Part 2

The inn's patrons stood paralyzed in panic and pathos
As Veraka searched the stiff and secured a scroll
Another bounty had been offered on the brash girl's body
Veraka sighed; it seemed spies sought her silence each second.
The well-worn warriors made way to their rooms
And settled down to sleep to ease their sore muscles.
Veraka did dream, but it did not delight her:
She saw cloistered Candlekeep close her off completely
And turned to the timberland she must now traverse.
Grave Gorion's pale ghost signed to go towards the grove
As if the dark wood were a welcome way to wander
But an easier path presented pure power
A trail tailored to her blood, a tempting overture;
She stood for a moment to study her selection.
The trail seemed too easy, she trusted to the truth
That life was ludicrous and lacked logic or laws
So the thorny thicket's unthinking bedlam appealed
More than a fated furrow fringed in foulness;
She turned away from the troubled tempting trail
And gave Gorion's ghost a glimmer of hope
that night.
But even as she woke,
She felt herself be spurned
A voice unknown had spoke
It just said, "You will learn!"

The voice rang in her ears as she roused rife with fear
Lingering long after she lay wakeful at dawn
She felt a fickle force untapped in her form:
Some new power was present. Perplexed and perturbed,
Veraka tested the new trick to see the truth
And cold confusion came when a surge of curing
Came upon her: not unlike a cleric's consecration,
But she did not draw a deity's divine dedication
It flowed crisp and cold and came from within.
She thought perhaps the power came parallel with spells
For at last her studies with Xzar showed promise:
She made Larloch's Minor Drain rest in memory
To show the nutty necromancer she knew how to cast.
The new cure was curious though, its cause unknown
No prayers or tome perusal had picked up the power
she felt.
Veraka's blood had bade
But she had then refused
The power yet had stayed
The energy was reused.

She readied herself and relinquished the room
Breakfast had began with biscuits and bacon,
Cornbread and beer, and Jaheira found berries
A strange banquet to bolster the bold heroes for battle
As they ate, all eyes asked for Veraka's aim
Whether they might meet the mines or make for Dynaheir.
Veraka spoke seldom as she ate and studied
So Minsc said, "Xzar, sing a story for stout soldiers
Or tell a tale of trying times and damsels with daring!"
Xzar arched his posture primly like unto a peacock
And deeply did he breathe before delving into song:
"Half a pound of tuppenny rice,
Half a pound of treacle.
That's the way the money goes,
POP! goes the weasel."
Minsc smiled and sang along in sonorous strife
While the others all groaned and gritted grim teeth;
Veraka just smiled as she sat and sampled breakfast,
Her jackanapes comrades revived the jovial jester
And soon she stood singing some sordid story
Caught from a cook she knew in Candlekeep
And the Amnish soldiers and patrons applauded.
Jaheira slipped a wry smile from her stoic expression
Khalid calmly chuckled and came back with seconds,
Seeing that breakfast would be their big meal
that day.
The heroes had their fun,
But soon came time to talk.
Veraka's song was done,
She picked which path to walk.

Veraka said, "Now, noble nonpareils, I need to choose
Our course, and both causes can be called worthy.
So I've studied the matter and seen fit to say
That Dynaheir's detainment does ring of dire need
While the mischief at the mines may wait a bit more.
What say you, friends?" Veraka awaited their words.
"Minsc and Boo be pleased, butts will be liberally kicked!"
Minsc made clear his most martial intent.
"Since we've spoken to the simpleton mayor, it seems fine,"
Xzar said, pleased to perceive Jaheira's provoked posture.
"Well our ways will part here, you're a ward no longer;
Gorion gave all a father could give daughter
But fate is yours to find, however fickle it may be
So work your will woman, and weather adventures
Perhaps our paths will cross again in this predicament,"
Jaheira said stiffly. Khalid spoken then, "Veraka,
Our b-b-b-best wishes I now betide you,
I w-wish we could w-wander but our course is h-here.
I hope to s-see you someday s-s-soon, fare thee well."
Veraka held Khalid in a hug to his surprise
And Jaheira gave an unconscious glare at the girl
now grown.
The half-elves parted ways,
Veraka was sad at heart.
"Let us not then waste the day!"
Minsc made ready to start.

As they sought the south bridge to seek the stronghold
Of gnolls, where Dynaheir was detained in distress
They noticed a red-robed man reacted to their rambling
And kept a wide berth of the bold combatants
Muttering most incessantly his mind's many thoughts.
Xzar called to him tritely, "Et tu, Brute?"
The man muttered, "The mongrels see me, I must now away,
Before the brutes begin asking questions and bore me."
Minsc stared with suspicion at the strange sorcerer
But shrugged and pushed on when he shrank away further.
As they strode through the farmlands supplying Nashkel
Xzar shouted, "A moment! My mind's eye makes clear
A furrow to find in a field not far from us
Where we will find welcome treasure for warriors."
Veraka and Minsc met eyes and shrugged mildly,
Following the foolish necromancer to find his furrow.
Yet sure enough, Xzar yanked past some yarrow roots
And caught up a cache slightly clipped by a plough
Green-plated armor gave gasps of delight
To those who saw it sheen in the striking sunlight.
"Ankheg armor! Does anyone know aught were it came?"
Veraka asked, viewing the vibrant armor's verdure.
"From an ankheg no doubt," Minsc duly did offer.
Xzar giggled, "My girl, 'tis a gift from the gods."
They decided that Minsc should don the dread armor
As Xzar must have mobility to muster his magic,
And Veraka felt the flexibility of chain fit for fighting:
It was simpler to strip off for slinging some spells,
she said.
Now armored in better ways,
They sought gnolls to the west.
Xzar's gift of sight was praised,
He gibbered in protest.

Imoen had been somber and sullen for days
Denied her tale of trollops and plug-tails true
So she sulked and said little, stomping without stealth
Until Veraka eventually viewed Imoen's vexation.
"Imoen, what ill now impairs your innocence?
Are you troubled by our troupe taking leave of others?"
Imoen quipped, "How queer that the queen should notice
Her subject seems sad, I am surely honored."
"Oh, knock it off knucklehead," Veraka said not unkindly,
"Tell me your troubles or I'll tickle them out of you!"
"Okay, okay, I'll obey your orders Overseer.
I'm not sad to see Jaheira scarce, really,
Since she stopped my favorite story and seemed so bossy.
I'm worried we won't have enough warriors though,
And I miss ol' Puffguts, all the people and places
In Candlekeep, honestly. It's hard to be here,
And I wanted a story so I'd be less scared and
homesick."
Veraka's eyes were wet
At Imoen's admission.
She said, "I think we'll get
A timely intermission."

Veraka held Imoen in a sisterly hug,
And said, "How about we all hear a happy tale
To keep company as we cover more ground for our quest?"
Minsc said, "Play on bard, our party will prepare
For gnoll knocking with tales of knights and hamsters!"
Xzar took a bold breath and looked ready to begin,
Till Imoen poked him, and the prod parted his puffed air.
"Let Veraka tell it!" she scolded the star-crazed spellcaster.
Smiling, Veraka set the story here said:
"To Candlekeep came curmudgeons three,
Cranky codgers all with carnal cravings
But ill luck was their lot when their lecherous view
Fell on Phlydia the Forgetful's fair hue.
The first of these men came to court her with care,
Yet it seemed she forgot the poor sot was there
With lust he loaned the lady his hotel room key
But soon she misplaced it at the foot of a tree.
Old Puffguts the proprietor said, 'Best find it soon,'
And the geezer searched still when ascended the moon.
The second old man seemed to think himself clever
When he wrote the rare lady a revealing letter
Telling temptations distasteful in full
But it slipped from her sash when she sashayed past Hull.
Hull was a keep Watcher too fond of white wine
A bit of a bully and bored all the time
When he nosed through the note he gave a nasty laugh
And made for the inn where the man made his gaff.
The man waited for Phlydia, hoping to feel her fine form
But in burst Hull like a bat from a storm
He pulled out the parchment from a belt-pouch's place
And fear framed itself on the fervid fool's face
Hull jaunted and jeered like the jerk that he was
And read the ribald letter to the room, just because.
The curmudgeon was cast from the room with clear cries
And he slunk off to sleep near the cows and the sty
His face red with rage as Phlydia rambled by
Yet she never noticed, a novel needed her eyes.
The third codger was crafty and crept towards her room
Wanting to woo her with a window-ledge tune
So the man waited merrily with his mandolin
Till he heard the hard footsteps of the woman within
So he smiled as she entered, made ready to sing
But her nose was in a novel; she didn't notice a thing.
She said to herself, "It seems there's a draft,"
The man at the shutters thought she surely was daft
So she walked to the window and whipped it down closed
Direct on the bridge of his bombastic nose
He gave a foul yell as he fell from the ledge
His fall had been broken by a rosebush hedge.
So as to a moral, my friends, I suppose
That to love the oblivious is like landing on a rose."
The adventurers laughed long and loud at the story,
And tears trickled down Imoen's cheeks; truly
As much from merriment as memory
of home.
Veraka told her tale
Such was the heroes' laughter
That all about the vale
It echoed moments after.

Imoen had improved, her impishness returning,
So they strolled through the stout stands of trees southward
Intending to cut west across the wilds with haste
To find a route not overrun with rivers and ridges.
They fought bears and xvarts, brigands and beasts
Till a sight wondrous strange struck them all still:
A dryad most beauteous and buxom besought them
Hailing the heroes in haste with her plea:
"Please warriors, a wondrous ancient oak will be whittled
Unless the loutish lumberjacks can be led away!"
"These brutes need bold answers, and my blade is the question!"
Minsc made ready for melee and looked to Veraka.
"The tree acts as phylactery for the fine-formed fey,"
Xzar mused and muttered, "I must try it sometime."
Veraka said, "We'll win over these warriors, worry not.
I'll make sure the men do not mar your old oak."
The dryad said, "Thank you, for though they're thick-witted,
They still could cause harm or even kill me."
Imoen whistled, "Gosh, that's one gorgeous girl,
She almost vies with Veraka, that's verily rare."
The group girded for gashes and found two men ahead
Strapped for strife, but struggling to string a
sentence.
The two were short on wits,
But not too short on brawn.
Veraka said, "I'll pit
These men against my song."

Veraka stepped forward while Minsc followed fast
And Imoen and Xzar rallied at range, ready,
So she spoke to the simpleton who seemed the smarter
And said, "Sir, what seems to bring strangers here?"
The cad drawled, "My name's Caldo, this is my brother Krumm,
We found us a treasure I figger for sure!
That there tree 's got magic, so we thwack it down
And get the gold gath'rin inside, that's the plan."
Veraka stared at their stupidity in some disbelief,
But recovered and replied, "A most rousing plan!
Come dance with me darlings, to dedicate the deed
While I sing celebration and soon rich we'll be!"
"Derrr, dance?" Krumm asked in a dubious drawl,
And Caldo said, "Okay, we c'n cut a rug can't we?"
Veraka began cavorting and capering madly
And the two tried to follow the tricky jester.
"Oh Willow, my wanderer, lend me your wand
Let's put politicians to work in the pond.
Old Oak and Old Crone, come caper with me,
Make merry these men and their madness be free!"
Veraka sang a spellsong, the secret of jesters,
And Caldo and Krumm came to calamitous confusion.
Dizzy with dancing, Caldo dealt Krumm a decking
And Krumm came about and cracked Caldo's ribcage
They wandered off whirling then wheeled in again
And grabbed in a grapple like gamboling partners
Bucking and biting as the bard bade them on.
"What's happening?!" wailed Caldo and ran off wincing,
As Krumm clomped after him, kicking and clawing.
Caldo came about addled and unsure of direction
And in synchronous strife their struggle did cease
When the two knocked noggins in nearly waltz-time
And fell mercifully unconscious. Veraka cackled at Caldo,
And swiftly stole supplies so the two would not trouble
The dryad, or any other travelers they dared delay.
Her companions watched in wonder and worry,
wide-eyed.
Veraka's secret store
Of power then was shown.
She tapped her ancient lore,
Her foes did snore and moan.

The dryad said, "Damsel, you disport the old magic,
I thought none of mortal number knew such secrets.
How is it a human holds the magic of the heart?"
Veraka said, "Verily, a bard's mind is a vault
Filled to overflowing with facts and frippery,
But a jester's true talents are tacit, not taught,
To say more would sound silly, I can't explain further."
The dryad smiled and said, "No need for such as I.
The Seelie would swoon for such skill as yours
But all I can confer is a cordial against poison.
What moniker shall I remember my mortal heroine by?"
"Veraka Cursebringer is my name, kind caretaker,
These woods will be safe while I watch them, I warrant."
Minsc said, "Twice true for me, and triple for Boo!"
Imoen smiled, "Good on you girl, give it your best!"
The heroes turned then to talk with the dryad
But she stepped into the stout oak and secluded herself.
A potion to purify poison was presented on a rock
Veraka took the flask and their trek towards the gnolls
went on.
The dryad was impressed
With the jester's jaunty power.
She took some time to rest
Within her leafy bower.

They dragged away Caldo and Krumm to a cave
Where they slept in seclusion in their unconscious state
After fending off wolves duly dire and dreadful
They came across coins and a magical halberd
Within the hollow halls of that hale cavern,
Treasure from a time too old to remember.
They walked past a waterfall, wild and wondrous,
And fought a white wolf who wielded the frost
It spat snowy ice from its mouth at Veraka
But the belt she had gotten from Gorion did grant
Protection from the power of the polar peril.
The beast was soon stopped by arrows and spells
And they took its pelt: a wintry white and warm when fashioned.
They continued on their quest, skirting around cliffs
Yet soon could not ignore a need nearby,
The sound of a solitary soul: somewhere close a girl was
crying.
Minsc said, "We must give aid!"
Xzar said, "Let's give sharp shins!"
Veraka made her way
Along the cliff's cruel bends.

The group found a girl who was given to sobbing
Sitting on the cliff trail in somber solitude
Veraka said, "My, what a lovely little lady
To be troubled and travailed. What's your name, dear?"
The girl sniffed, "Drienne, but my cat slipped and skittered,
Falling over the waterfall. Could you find Pixie please?"
"Of course I can, Drienne," Veraka said calmingly,
"We'll be back with Pixie before you know it."
Imoen said, "Drienne, it's dangerous to dare here,
Why don't you play where it's less wild and steep?"
"Like the roof of the inn?" Veraka prodded Imoen's ribs.
"That was different, there weren't wolves and waterfalls there,"
Imoen muttered, and made a mischievous mean face.
"Different indeed," Veraka said sadly, downcast as she thought
Of her hearth and home, and how Gorion would not be there.
Imoen's expression changed instantly from impishness
And she seemed like a sister as she spoke solemnly,
"We'll make it Veraka. It might be melancholy,
But my beautiful big sister is a bard after all.
This isn't the way we wanted to adventure,
But we'll make the best of these buffleheads yet."
Veraka sadly smiled and held her in a hug,
And said to Drienne, "Yes, we'll seek for some sign
Of Pixie." Then the party paced to the waterfall's bottom,
While Xzar rambled and raved of rabbit-footed dragons.
At the bottom they beheld the body of a cat,
Poor Pixie had perished in her plummet to earth.
Veraka grimly gathered up the gray tabby cat
And returned up the ridge to reach young Drienne.
Drienne came crying when she collected her cat,
And Veraka spoke thus to the sad struggling girl:
"Drienne, you must know now that death does come,
A part of the path we all walk in this place.
You should seek to accept that some things make no sense,
For life defies logic, all things fade at the last."
Strangely, Drienne did not draw back at her words;
She replied, "You're right, every time daddy raises her
She seems to get sicker and struggles so much.
Maybe this time I'll tell him to bury her;
Here, have this scroll for hauling her back."
Drienne gave Veraka a goodly gift goodbye,
And made her way meetly along meandering cliffs
towards home.
Minsc said, "This is so sad,
That Boo may surely cry!"
Veraka said, "My lad,
Your witch is nearly nigh."

Minsc said, "By Boo, I believe you are right!
Let us loiter no longer, there's a lady to save!"
They traversed across trackless lands till they came
In sight of a bridge crossing a cruel crevasse
Into a land crammed with caverns and crags,
And they saw at some distance the Gnoll Stronghold
A fortress so ancient it was forgotten, or feared,
Built by hands unknown and betraying no secrets.
Minsc was willing to walk on despite his weariness
But the journey had been injurious, so the jester decided
To call camp for the night; the companions did not complain.
As they eased aching feet and unfit armor's friction,
Imoen said, "Hey Minsc, you haven't made mention
Of your own story yet, so why don't you yammer?"
Minsc said, "I see not how yams suit a story,
But you shall behold some butt-kicking through words!
I was raised in Rasheman to learn the ways of rage
To become a brave berserker of the Ice Dragon lodge.
Some have said I sought too much to champion nature,
And truly I resemble a ranger more rightly,
But I learned to be berserk nevertheless! Right, Boo?
Still, they called into question my curious credo,
And duly did ask I perform my dajemma
A ritual passage from boy to bold berserker.
I was granted a gift, the honor of guarding
My witch, a wondrous Wychlaran of Rasheman,
You do know as Dynaheir. We did travel daily,
To what purpose I know not, but plain pure adventure!
In an ancient stone shrine most slathered in sigils
We beheld the bold Boo, born of the stars,
A miniature giant space hamster stood on the stone,
And spoke to me of-" Boo squeaked, and Minsc did stop.
"Are you certain? Yes Boo, but I... yes, I am sorry.
Boo does not wish to discuss his details too much
So suffice to say simply, he joined my struggle.
I've had a few h-head wounds on this hazardous trek
But none worse than the one when Dynaheir was taken.
Gnolls came in the night and knocked me unconscious
And stole away Dynaheir! Ever since I have sought
To bash in their brains till they behave better.
Now we are nearly there, let's not tarry longer!"
Minsc said, but a yawn slipped out, staving off sleep.
"No Minsc, with no healer to have our health steady,
We will need all our wits to weather this task,"
Veraka replied readily. Imoen sighed in relief and
laid down.
The companions took their rest,
For mortal maidens need sleep.
That night was surely blest,
No foes disturbed their keep.

In earliest morning after a cold meager meal,
They made for the mountains with Minsc at the lead.
They crossed the creaking bridge over a cruel chasm
But two ogre-kin trod out to take a bridge toll.
The ogres were willing to speak of their wants,
But the party apparently sought no parley
For they answered with arrows the approach of ogres.
The first one fell far before he could reach them,
But the second came swinging his sword with strength
The blow bounced away from bold Minsc's new armor
And Minsc made return a most dolorous melee
Lopping limbs like a lumberjack until he laid low
The ogres overseeing the old bridge crossing.
Taking their two-handed swords to hand,
Minsc and Veraka grinned in great fun at the group
Before bringing the battle boldly before the gnolls.
Xzar declared, "I am become Death, Destroyer of Worlds!"
And ran to remain near the rigorous raiders.
Imoen seemed scared but soldiered on stoically
Determined to prove she could dare the dire deed.
They stormed up the slopes with Minsc slashing sure
Cutting down gnoll defenders and dealing out death
As Xzar slung spells and Imoen sniped stragglers.
Tymora smiled upon them: so far they had surprise,
A few paltry patrols had pestered them to this point.
They came across allies of the gnolls at a crest,
Blue-skinned little bullies known abroad as xvarts
Who swarmed in with shortswords seeking for slaughter;
The heroes had them handled with a few hard hacks.
The ranger Minsc rallied them to regroup for respite
At the foot of a stair that sought the source of their struggle.
"I will walk up first to weather the worst attacks,
Step lively to lend aid and lash them, my lady!"
Minsc said. Veraka nodded, "It needs no amendment."
So Minsc stepped up the stairs and soon violent struggle
began.
The first few fell with ease,
The heroes became heady.
Minsc was most surely pleased,
And strutted on most steady.

Now came they to a strange courtyard covered in chasms,
Round pits in the pavement for people to be imprisoned
But new gnolls now neared them, gnashing and nasty,
Elite looters and villains their lord Yeenoghu would laud.
The raiders rushed past the front rank of the heroes,
And sought to slaughter some less armored and stalwart.
Xzar and Imoen managed to mow down a marauder
Struck with arrows and spells till he slumped over slackly
But another beset them after breaching the brave battlers
And Imoen swung her shortsword while Xzar stabbed his dagger.
Veraka and Minsc were waylaid with wicked warriors,
And came carving a path to contribute some cover
But before they could bring battle, Imoen took a hard blow:
The gnoll's halberd had hit and her heart's blood flowed.
Veraka rushed forward with a roar of rage resounding
And pulped the peccant gnoll into pieces which plastered
The palisades and parapets of that perilous rampart.
"I feel so cold," Imoen shivered and shuddered as she bled.
Veraka called upon the curing she could not explain,
And touched the torn wound that troubled Imoen's shoulder.
With wonder, Imoen gasped as she was made whole;
Giving a guilty glance, Veraka got back to carnage.
Now the gnolls' tribal chieftain came to clash in contention
With the best bringers of bloodshed his brutes could offer,
And Minsc made mighty melee with the murderous gnolls
Dealing out dread blows and taking dents in return
The heroes were hard pressed, Xzar slung his last spell
And stepped forth with his dagger, daring the dire fight
Bolstered by bleeding off his enemies' essence.
Imoen stood well back, but her bow drew gnoll blood
And Veraka fought fiercely at Minsc's side, finding flaws
In the fighter's defenses, and the gnolls began falling.
Minsc stepped in to struggle against the gnoll chieftain
And swung his sword so soundly that Tempus did pause,
And smile to see the blow struck to save Dynaheir,
Shattering his sword and the gnoll chief's skeleton.
Blood-soaked in sanguine success and sore won,
The heroes heaved hard and held up a moment
For the warriors all carried wounds that would scar.
Minsc alone made inspection of each pit meetly,
Till he discovered with joy that Dynaheir was not dead
below.
He strode the steep steps down
Into the foul gnolls' pit.
A lady came soon around,
In feature and form most fit.

The Wychlaran witch made her way from the pit,
As Minsc helped her navigate the harrowing steps
And soon all could see the serious sorceress Dynaheir.
It was clear from her countenance and candor 'twas a lady
Of no small knowledge, nubile and Nubian.
Despite her detainment, the gnolls did not defile her
So she seemed slightly cleaner, not soaked in blood at least.
She spoke in a rich accent, understated yet strong:
"I thank thee for my freedom, thou art refreshing
When so many we meet can be most... lacking."
Veraka was wiping off the worst gore with a loincloth
She had snatched from a scoundrel; self-consciously she said,
"Um, you're welcome. So, you're a Wychlaran witch, right?"
"I see Minsc has made mention of many of my details,"
Dynaheir said coolly; Minsc was cowed with a creeping blush.
"But Dynaheir, I did not tell them what we do here;
In fairness, even Boo has not ferretted out the facts!"
Minsc protested. Dynaheir replied, "I am perturbed
Thou wouldst risk well-kept secrets for want of curiosity!
However, thou hast my thanks for helping me here,
I am Dynaheir of Rasheman." Her bearing was regal.
"Veraka Cursebringer of Candlekeep," she curtseyed,
And Imoen giggled at the gesture grimed with gore.
"Cursebringer? A most maleficent moniker for maidens,
Though I imagine it might menace foes in mercenary work.
How much did Minsc offer to merit thy might?"
Dynaheir asked. Imoen boggled in blatant disbelief.
"He said you'd supply 500 gold pieces to your saviors,"
Xzar spoke up suddenly, and Minsc spluttered in outrage.
"These are no base bruisers who battled to save you!
We came when Minsc called for combatants on his quest
For no finer reason than to free you and find glory,"
Veraka ventured; verily, the vixen was vexed.
"It is true, Dynaheir, you'd do no better with Ice Dragons,
They be bold as berserkers and belong at our side!"
Minsc said with worry, wanting both women pleased.
"I am sorry, it seems I was hasty to judge thee.
Minsc has mentioned thy merit most highly Veraka,
I fear thou hast found me ill-tempered from gnolls,
And parted from my possessions; truly, I am pleased
To hail hearty heroes and have my freedom,"
Dynaheir apologized politely to the party.
"Very well, the more the merrier, right Minsc?"
Veraka said, though the slights of Dynaheir
still stung.
They took up treasured baubles
The gnolls pillaged and plundered.
The group balance had wobbled
From Dynaheir's catty blunder.

They made way past marauders, more gnoll patrols,
Dynaheir borrowed a sling and shot stones, since spells
Would elude her till she wakened with spellbook in hand;
The only possession not pitched by pernicious gnolls.
Veraka became curious about the caverns and crags
That littered the lands which lay near the stronghold
So she led them around ledges and lingered in valleys
And they fought the foul xvarts that infested the cliffs.
Finally they found a treasure in a foul-smelling cavern,
A tome truly tempting but dangerous to take in
Without being aware of what words it may hold.
Veraka said, "I'll identify this item in the morning,
We can camp in a cave till the sun clears the horizon."
"It seems it must be so, darkness falls," Dynaheir said.
The group gathered their gear and got a fire going,
Soon supper was served, simple stew and some rations
And wounds were rebound by battle-wise warriors.
Soon Imoen was settled in, and said with a smile,
"Hey Dynaheir, why don't you dazzle us with your story?
I've heard everyone here once except you, let's have it!"
"I'm afraid I am sworn to secrecy, I'm sorry,
I cannot recount in full candor my tale.
Suffice to say simply that the Sword Coast has need
Of my sect, and some strange sights will soon
be seen."
Imoen then huffed and held
Her lips pursed in a pout.
Dynaheir smirked but withheld;
No secrets were given out.

Veraka said, "Enough secrets! It seems all I meet
Are part of some sect or a clandestine cult.
Normally I'm content to live and let live,
But such covert companions keep me confused!
I feel like a blind hamster bumbling with birds of prey."
"We are no birds surely, but hamsters of high honor!
We give guidance until you may get cured of blindness
And fend off foul birds with our ferocious little fangs!"
Minsc made quick reply, and Veraka smiled at him.
"Well you know me V'aka, no nuances here,
If I did have dark secrets you'd delve 'em right out!
I may as well be your sister, so sincerely you know me,"
Imoen said seriously, and Veraka clasped her shoulder.
Xzar sighed, "Oh very well, this warrants one telling,
But trouble me not trollops, to tell more than this!
Know now that I represent a merchant consortium,
Who are not responsible for riling this region
But wish to investigate what willpower ruins iron
And avert all false blame to the appropriate agents."
They all stood in surprise that Xzar spoke so clearly,
Then Veraka said, "I believe you, you belong at my back."
They turned then to Dynaheir, who frowned at this test
of truth.
The witch then cleared her throat,
And made ready to speak.
Xzar got ready to gloat
If her tale refused to leak.

Dynaheir spoke, "Thou must understand my mind,
It is strange to seek answers so far from my home.
I am used to tasking others rather than taking orders,
For the Wychlaran witches are word of law in Rasheman.
I was approached by an othlor, a true one of my order,
And tasked to tend the troubles to come on this coast.
A prophecy presides here that could put the world in peril,
Speaking of the spawn of a slain god, it seems.
I dare not say more, lest my mouth be made silent;
It is dangerous to delve deep in this dread subject."
Minsc said, "Most revered Dynaheir, you do honor us this day
To speak your secret knowledge to we so undeserving."
Veraka raised her eyebrow as she read Minsc's expression:
He seemed a different person in the presence of her, plainly.
Veraka disliked Dynaheir, yet could not now deny
She had spoken of her secrets, so she sighed and said,
"I was leaving my home, the largest library Candlekeep,
For my foster father Gorion feared we were in danger.
I have since been pursued by strange assassins at each step
And sliding into struggles that seem insignificant
Compared to losing my beloved father. Yet I could not last
Alone in this land without friends to lend aid,
So such is the story of a saddened jester."
Veraka looked around and was reassured readily:
Imoen had a hug for her before she had finished,
And Minsc made a vow to avenge Veraka's father.
Xzar said, "I'll strip the souls of these savages for you,
So they cannot come back to try killing twice.
Their bodies could serve as skeletons, if you so wish."
The others were aghast at this grim offer given,
Though Veraka considered it carefully a moment.
Dynaheir said, "It seems we all seek similar ends,
Or may yet come across what we need with this crew."
Veraka nodded, "It needs no amendment for now,
Let us rest and recover for our return to Nashkel."
They bedded down and began taking watch against
bandits.
The night began most calm,
Till thunder and wind did wrack.
It seemed they'd have no balm
To start the journey back.

They weathered the storm in the cold cliff cavern,
Taking turns at watch till it came time to travel.
In the darkest night hours there did approach deviants,
Xvarts stepped stealthily seeking their vengeance
Against the heroes who had hewn their comrades.
It was Minsc's turn at watch, but the man's merit at this
Was sketchy, his sight and perception sore lacking,
And he nearly nodded off as the night wore on.
The xvarts slipped in, not disturbing the sentry,
Until a troubling troupe hemmed in to take lives.
At the last moment before they were most all murdered,
Minsc saw a flash of steel as lightning struck outside
And roared warning to wake the warriors within.
It was complete chaos as they clashed in the darkness,
The humans could hardly see their hateful foes
So Imoen set about striking up a torch
While the others were contending with xvarts in the blackness.
As Imoen at last shed light to lend aid,
A startled scream struck them all silent a second
Dynaheir had been flailing with her fists forlornly
But they saw she was run through by a xvart shortsword
And fell dead so fast they could scarcely fathom it.
Minsc cried out despairingly, "Dynaheir, NOOOOOO!
You will be avenged!" Lightning flashed on his fierce face,
And all who saw him took two steps back
For he was ranger no more, but a bloody berserker.
He was heedless to all, and had no sense to tell
Friend from foe, so they fell further back in the cave.
Minsc's sword had shattered slaying the gnoll chief,
But his fists were sufficient to flatten his foes
So the pugilist pounded the perpetrators soundly.
When all had fallen, the fury was still fixed in his eye
And Minsc turned in murderous wrath to meet
his friends.
Veraka came forth then
And said, "You've slain the xvarts!
Remember we're you're friends?"
But rage still held his heart.

They did not wish to wound the brave warrior Minsc,
Nor were they well able: Xzar still lacked sleep for spells,
And Imoen mutely watched Minsc as she held the torch;
She was not strong of limb and her bow was unstrung.
It was clear that Veraka must vie with vim and verve
If she was to save Minsc's life, and themselves,
So she rushed forward in struggle with the savage brute
The girl in grim grapple with the great guardian Minsc.
Her muscle was no match for the might of Minsc plainly,
But the bard was both strong and slippery to beat
She trusted to luck and her lissome elusiveness
As she wriggled and writhed against his wrath.
Imoen and Xzar stared at the sight standing before them,
As though two titans clashed in tumultuous struggle
Backlit by lightning and the lurid torchlight
As they flailed into walls and fought on the floor,
Minsc's face twisted terribly and terrified Imoen.
They rolled from the cave and came clashing on the cliff,
One misstep in their struggle would send them to death
But the pugilists were prone, and Veraka was pinned
Minsc caught her at last and clamped down crushingly.
Veraka faced fear and fatality in full fairness,
Glad she gave Imoen and Xzar a gamble at life
And maybe Minsc too; she smiled a moment
And Minsc hesitated, his haymaker halted.
Echoing across the cliffs came a voice,
Soft in the storm but still surely heard.
"Calm thyself, Minsc," a serene spirit said,
And for a second the strugglers saw her in the rain,
The departed Dynaheir did flicker in the lightning,
Ghostly and gorgeous, and then she was gone.
Minsc came to his senses and slackened his grip,
crying.
Minsc curled up on the stone,
As sobbing wracked his chest.
Veraka shushed his moans,
And held him against her breast.

"But why, warrior women? How could we lose her, Boo?"
Sure enough, the small rodent had survived their struggle
And nuzzled Minsc's cheek as the stormy night endured.
"We came so far, we carved a whole clan of gnolls,
Stormed a stronghold with only four yet still we saw victory!
Now I have failed her twice, all is fickle and foulness,
My dajemma is doomed, I shall never be an Ice Dragon,
A warrior is nothing without a witch to guard!"
So moved was Veraka by Minsc's melancholy,
The heroine had reply, her voice heavy with emotion,
"Maybe I could be your witch, mighty Minsc."
The jester's offer was so genuine it jarred him from moping,
And he asked, "A warrior woman like you is a witch?"
She smiled, "A jester stores many secrets away,
And spells are one. Watch." She walked in the cave
And found a fallen xvart knocked unconscious by Minsc.
She was not clad in chainmail so was capable of casting,
And she drained its life, killing it and healing herself.
Xzar sniffled, "You see? They grow up so fast."
Minsc said, "Well, I wouldn't have believed that a witch
Could fight so fiercely, yet I find it fair and true!
If you will have me I am happy to help you,
And be your berserker, at your beck and behest."
"A friend and a guardian is good enough," she grinned,
Then grew more somber as she stepped in from the storm.
"I don't know the rituals she would rate in Rasheman,
But I could help build a cairn, this cliff has plenty of rocks."
"We might wait till morning for the storm to move past,"
Imoen murmured, making study of Veraka.
"Yes, I will watch and be wakeful my witch.
At first light I will load up large rocks for a cairn,
I hope our hard works are heard D-Dynaheir,"
Minsc faltered.
They waited until dawn
The storm soon struggled past
Before the group moved on,
They built a cairn to last.

As Minsc moved stones in melancholy manner,
Imoen said, "Guys, we're gonna go have girl-talk,
So keep stacking stones and we'll see you soon.
Don't worry, we won't go far on our walk."
Veraka said, "We are?" Imoen whisked her away.
Before they traipsed far Imoen turned to Veraka,
Her countenance almost cold; Veraka was concerned.
"Time to spill the beans sister, I want the whole story.
Did you do something to get Dynaheir killed?"
Veraka was scandalized, and said with some shock,
"No, Imoen! Now how could I get a xvart night raid
To work with me anyway, and why would you think that?"
Imoen stared at her hard, but her face finally softened.
"Okay, so maybe Minsc needed more light
To be a good guard and give us protection.
If you didn't want Dynaheir dead, then why
Aren't you talking about taking her body to town?
We could resurrect her," Imoen replied, eyebrows raised.
Veraka was struck still by the question for a second,
But she said, "Imoen, it takes money to muster
A cleric's cures, let alone casting resurrection!"
Imoen muttered, "That malarkey might work on Minsc,
But I keep a count on our coins and rare crystals.
When we sell off this stuff at the Nashkel store,
We could raise her a dozen times and drown in drinks,
And live like royal ladies in Beregost for a month.
Don't placate me Veraka, we're sworn sisters since seven,
Tell me the truth if you trust me at all!"
Veraka saw Imoen was sincerely serious,
So she struggled to find words to suit the story:
"I admit I didn't like Dynaheir when we met;
She meant much to Minsc, but to her he's mere servant.
She came across cutting and cold when we met,
It might've been a mistake yet it sticks in my mind.
It may just be jealousy, this journey unnerves me
And I'm at my wit's end. I don't want his witch,
Does that make me a murdering monster, Imoen?"
"No, V'aka," Imoen sighed and sat on a stone,
"Maybe Minsc is better off to make his own way.
I don't like the doctrine of letting her die,
But we always had different ideas on death.
I know Gorion pledged himself to peace when he passed,
Or I bet you'd 've brought 'im back by now." She nodded;
Imoen's insights always impressed Veraka,
it seemed.
Imoen was far more wise
Than the bard she bravely followed.
Veraka had no guise
Her friend did not find hollow.

"Another thing," Imoen then said thoughtfully,
"How long have you kept your cleric cures secret?
I know you offer prayers pell-mell through the pantheon,
And bards don't have to devote to deities, do they?"
Veraka said, "Imoen, it scares me just slightly,
I don't know why I warrant a cure from my will.
I had a strange dream where I dared the dark wood
Instead of a straight path that seemed so easy.
Gorion's ghost gave me a smile, but then
When I woke I heard words: You will learn.
I found this fickle cure from inside me upon waking."
Imoen looked worried. "Well, I was glad to get
That heal, so perhaps it's a heavenly gift.
Just keep me posted on weird powers or pranks,
We're sworn sisters, right?" Veraka then smiled,
and said, "Just promise not to get pummeled by punks,
And I'll tell you my troubles and trickery, okay?"
The two traveled back to face Dynaheir's
cold cairn.
The stones were set in place,
The cave did hold her form.
The shelter of that base
Would keep off wind and storm.

Once Dynaheir was delivered into death's house,
Minsc said, "There is some speech we should give Dynaheir,
But I know not the words that are needed for witches."
Xzar said, "You know, I was nearly a noble cleric,
Perhaps I could provide some poignant parable."
"Don't you dare, I will speak on behalf of the dead,
Now is not the moment, necromancer," Veraka said.
"Death is every moment," Xzar muttered most darkly.
"We carefully commit Dynaheir's body to the cairn;
Earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust;
In the sure and certain hope of the passage to life eternal,"
Veraka said solemnly, and it seemed suitable enough.
Minsc kneeled near the cairn and intoned a foreign tongue
But his words were brief, and he walked to Veraka.
"Boo is simply overcome with such sadness, let us strive
To go wheresoever my new witch would bid,"
Minsc said with some struggle. Veraka took his hand,
Their calloused skin came in comforting contact.
"We will walk back to Nashkel, take time to resupply,
Then head towards the mine to make good the mayor's promise.
We might remain a day to rest and recover,
To start healing the wounds we wear," Veraka said.
They gave grim nods, then gathered to leave for
Nashkel.
They paused to honor she
Who fell in fatal fight.
Veraka vowed to see
Them leave that land of blight.

They left the cruel crags and came again to lands
More green and giving as the hours gave way.
Imoen stepped to stand near Veraka and soon
The sworn sisters were speaking in soft undertones.
"Not to pry, but I was peeking at your pal Minsc,
And the man is pretty meaty if you catch my meaning,"
Imoen giggled, and Veraka gave the girl a push
In mock outrage. "Imoen! You mean you stole a glance,
And didn't include me? How dare you, little deviant!"
"Hey, I'm not so little, and HE is quite large!" she laughed,
And Veraka began pelting her with pokes, prods and tickles
Till the two took off on a tear through the fields
For all the world warring like they were kids in Candlekeep.
"Take this you trollop, for talking of plug-tails!"
Veraka grinned gaily as she gave gaff to Imoen.
"I happen to recall you helped drill a hole
In the wall of the Watcher's barracks with me
And took more than your share of time to peek!"
Imoen challenged cheekily, and was chased once more.
"Them kids could wreck a whole region, Ah reckon,"
Xzar spoke in a drawl and shook his head slightly.
Minsc gave a mild grin as he watched the girls gallivant,
And his heart was less heavy from his harrowing thoughts
Of the punishment that might pass for failing to protect
His Wychlaran witch Dynaheir; he watched his new ward.
When at last they collapsed and lay among flowers,
Imoen turned to Veraka and asked, "What's the tome?"
Taken offguard, Veraka said, "Oh, the tome we took
From the cliff cave. I can't lie, there's powerful magic,
It seems one who studies it will strengthen charisma
And be more puissant in their power with people."
Imoen smiled, "Don't worry, we want you to have it,
A likeable leader lends us all luck."
Veraka pulled out the tome and peeked at the pages
The words took to her in a torrent, more quickly than normal,
And within one minute Minsc's new witch was transformed.
Veraka had always been a handsome heartbreaker,
But she approached angelic allurement after this
Her magnetism passed the mention of mortals
And Imoen sat stunned at the sudden switch.
"I thought it took time to read those tomes!"
Imoen stammered as she stared at her sworn sister.
"A week without interruption," Veraka whispered,
Sensing some power struggling within
her soul.
Her beauty and her charm
Now surpassed mortal measure.
She guessed there was no harm
In speeding up the treasure.

"Gosh, I never knew a girl could be so gorgeous,"
Imoen said as she stared, her eyes seemed starstruck.
"Imoen, it's still me, I'm Veraka, are you in there?"
Veraka said, suddenly uncomfortable with such praise.
"Oh, of course! Wow, that's cool, I still can't believe it,
It's like the magic leapt off the page and latched on you."
Veraka nodded, knowing this was not normal.
"Well, I was going to ask about you being a 'witch,'
Before that book made you even more beautiful.
Are you just being nice to Boo's brave berserker,
Or is there something more?" Imoen asked with a smile.
"Too soon to tell, though the trial on the cliffs
Made me feel close to Minsc; and all that muscle and musk..."
Veraka trailed off, and Imoen took to teasing.
"Well, if you like scary guys who swing giant swords,
And big weapons too, I guess he and Boo aren't bad."
Veraka tickled Imoen back to the group
And said, "Enough, you sassy strumpet! I'll sing a song,"
And the companions kept on to Nashkel in camaraderie and
cadence.
Minsc's spirits then did lift
To see the bard at play.
Her jesting was a gift
To mend his heart that day.