Part 3

The companions camped once before coming to Nashkel,
And relief ran rampant when they had returned.
They gladly paid the proprietor of the inn for plain rooms;
Simple beds were the best his inn could boast,
Yet it seemed luxurious next to sleeping on stone.
Veraka used her curious cure to clear up wounds
Till their bodies were whole, ready for brave battle.
Veraka and Xzar studied scrolls they had salvaged
Out of treasure taken by gnolls and tiny xvarts
So now new knowledge could be put into practice
When next they needed to knock down foes.
The group gathered at breakfast and Veraka began:
"We have weathered the wilds a bit worse for wear,
And the mines may prove to hold more melancholy
So let us seek today to restore ourselves
And find fun at the fair just east from here.
We will take this day to indulge a dalliance,
But by breakfast tomorrow, we will be in the mines."
Xzar said, "This delay does damage my purpose...
Wait, we're going to the fair?! What fun we will have!"
He began to act boyish and blathered about bubbles.
Minsc said, "As you wish my witch, we will wander
And see some spectacles, as Boo has said."
Veraka could see Dynaheir still stayed in his thoughts
So she squeezed his hand and hoped for a good day.
Imoen said, "Well, a carnival could help ease our cares,
So sure big sister, let's step out in style!"
They traveled to the east, to the big tents of Nashkel's
carnival.
They planned a day in fun
At the carnival in the clearing.
Xzar acted like a son,
Imoen was quite endearing.

They came to the carnival and saw curious sights
Some performers put on a play most jocular
Filled with slapstick scenes and sordid satire
And they were made merry by the madcap troupe.
They heard a haunting poem of horror and sorrow
Named "Nosferatu" after vampire's night-kind,
Then they came to a thaumaturge performing there
Going by the name of The Great Gazib.
"Allow me to let you leer at Oopah, in all the world
The only exploding ogre!" An ornery ogre appeared,
And sure enough burst into blood and bits of body.
Imoen stood stunned while the others screamed for more,
So The Great Gazib gave in and the ghoulish act repeated:
The Amazing Oopah appeared, then presently exploded
Into paste and parts, and the party cheered the performance.
"Great fun! Right Boo?" Minsc grinned and guffawed.
They laughed and lauded the lurid hoopla
To so much merit the mage readied an encore
But Oopah was not amused and began to make melee
And The Great Gazib gathered up his robes and ran.
The heroes had been caught off-guard by this hatred
But soon brought the brute down, bloody and butchered.
Minsc looked on sadly, "So no more explosions?"
Veraka said, "Enough sadness, let's seek shopping instead."
As they came to the tents, a tall glowing figure
approached.
A man dressed as a fool
Came to Veraka's side.
"Your tailor is a tool,
If I wore that, I'd hide."

The man went on, "We couldn't leave the weapons and armor
At the inn, and enjoy less injurious pleasures?
This is a carnival, not an arena my ribald ruffians."
"Oh, but it could be," Xzar said, crazed and creepy.
"Och, but aet could be, laddy," Lord Binky belabored,
Mocking the man in the manner of a dwarf.
Veraka placed a hand on her hip and pointed,
Then shouted, "Fools' Duel!" flippantly through the fair.
Performers and pedestrians both came to perceive
The showdown she declared taking shape on the grounds.
"By what right are you called fool?" the man replied readily,
Though he had not expected to harangue a jester.
"By my studies sir," she said, taking a silly stance.
"And where have you studied?" he said sassily.
"I come from great Candlekeep, Veraka Cursebringer I'm called,
Where every book was brought to be held in my brain.
A cranky old coot of a cook taught me singing,
And my travels, to tell true, have made me insane.
Now I demand the degree of the dolt I'm stinging!"
Veraka rallied cheers, and the man made reply.
"You besmirch me bozo, I'm Lord Binky the Buffoon!
I braved many a barrel of brandy this moon,
I once may've been merchant who moved ingot iron
Which makes me as mad as the most testy wyvern."
"To the duel, then!" Veraka declared daringly.
"As the challenged, I choose puns," he chimed cheekily.
Veraka took a breath, then verily she vied:
"You're barking up the wrong tree, it's best to be leafing,
This branch has been closed, I'm berry serious, be fleeing!
Yew'll really root the day you crossed me, I'm nuts,
Pack your trunk, you're not poplar, Elm pities you Gus!"
The growing crowd cheered on the chiding jester's cheek.
"I shan't shirt my duties, so I'll sock it to you sister,
You're panting for poor puns but I'll coat you in blisters!
I'll shoe you the side door, no redress for this slip,
Your talent is underwear mine is, take tips!"
The crowd brayed boos, mostly because their buffoon
Was wearing thin with some and they wanted fresh jokes.
"The tourists almost rose to violets, my tulips are no intrusion,
I will make marigold, you'll be a black-eyed susan.
Your daisies here are done, but don't be a bummer
Your lilacs levity, say farewell to summer."
The crowd cheered for Veraka's flowery floral puns,
Then Lord Binky the Buffoon made his rebuttal:
"You better soup up your style, you don't impress this old salt.
Your season turns chili, you'll be desserted for faults.
If I egg you on now, I'll be on a roll
It'd be butter if you yeast out the door, don't be droll."
The crowd kept booing Lord Binky the Buffoon.
Veraka said, "The day is mine, so make tracks my friend,
Cart off ore I'll pick on you punk, this part's the end.
I've rocked you, you're shafted, you don't have the stones,
My digs have struck gold, I've hammered it home."
The crowd had many miners, and they made such clamor
That Lord Binky the Buffoon said, "Truly, I am beaten.
I cannot compete with Veraka Cursebringer,
The carnival is yours." He clomped off, downcast and
beaten.
Veraka verily won
Her Fools' Duel at the fair.
Lord Binky's time was done,
He walked off in despair.

Veraka was crowned Queen of Fools for the carnival,
And took as much pleasure performing as participating,
Taking part in some improvisation for pure fun.
They came to shops with curious commodities,
And gambled some money, losing a little good gold.
A man tried to pickpocket Veraka at one point,
Declaring, "It is your honor to be duped by dread Vitiare,
The cagiest pickpocket who ever came to the Sword Coast!"
The travelers took exception to his theft and fought,
And mighty Minsc laid low the bragging man meetly,
Cleaving him in twain for causing Veraka consternation
Before Vitiare got away with ill-gotten gold.
"Are you well, my witch? He did not wound you with poison?"
Minsc asked with concern, and Veraka smiled kindly.
"I'm fine, there's one less pickpocket to pilfer our purses,
Though this fair is proving more thorny than I thought,"
Veraka said, and it seemed odd in a place of such merriment
They still were beset and surrounded by death.
"Come, let's seek a new tent," she said, and stormed away
As Imoen hurried to help herself to Vitiare's belongings.
They entered a new tent, and saw two figures at odds:
Two mages, a man and woman, were casting magic
And the man seemed about to set loose a spell
When Imoen bounced in behind them: "Heya, I'm back!"
The man said, "Hold, I am Zordral, and I have here a witch,
The worse kind of woman, a wild one who will kill
The livestock of this land, and lure away the young men!
My spell is nearly done, stand aside so I may focus!"
The lady said, "This is ridiculous, you must see he's lying!"
Veraka said, "A witch, eh? Well I'm a witch too,
And we all use magic here, you're a mage yourself man!
How do I know you haven't hexed the livestock here,
And intend to attempt your terrible charms on me?"
"You mock the great Zordral? You must suffer now, maggots!"
The heroes clashed once more at the carnival with casting,
Xzar slung a spell quickly to interrupt Zordral,
And they had him soon dead, his head in the dust.
The lady began, "I thank you, I am Bentha brave heroes,
If you had not happened to help I would surely be dead.
Zordral was a rival of mine, and ready to rip
My lifeforce from me. Please, feel free to take
Anything from him or his tent, I have enough."
"Couldn't you spare something?" Xzar asked suggestively.
"I do have this potion I planned to sell, perhaps
It will do you more good, I give you this gift."
Bentha handed Veraka a bold hero's brew,
Then made her way meetly from the dead mage's tent.
Imoen and Xzar shrugged and stripped down the shelves
Set up like a merchant's tent might be, making money.
Veraka looked lost, and let loose a lament of fear and
sadness.
"Such dying here, but why?
This is a festival day!"
She looked about to cry
And quickly turned away.

Imoen said, "Hey, how 'bout you two take care of this tent?
Veraka needs some air, we'll be just south of ya, see?"
They stepped into the sunlight, but Veraka saw death
And she suppressed a sob as they stepped a little south.
Veraka said, "Why is it I see so much death?
Since Gorion said we had to leave, I've seen such slaughter.
Sometimes it's assassins, but I've slain simple mercenaries,
Saved some but slew others, I've killed more than I saved.
It's everywhere, always with me, it wafts in the air,
And I can't have one day to delve in innocent delights
And make Minsc forget just one moment about Dynaheir,
Or me about Gorion!" She gave over to gasping sobs.
Imoen had no words, but held her in a hug,
And cried with her because she cared, because Candlekeep
Felt a world away, and there would be no wise elder
To come take them home and keep them from killers;
The sworn sisters felt scared and small for a moment.
Eventually, Imoen ventured, "Hey Veraka,
A lot of folks had fun at the Fools' Duel earlier.
I saw Minsc smile some today, so I reckon
He'll recover, it just takes time to figure out.
I think it's weird too how we've witnessed so much;
Candlekeep seemed so safe, death there was solemn.
No matter what, we'll watch out for one another,
Even if the rest of the world is really rank."
Veraka raised an eyebrow and a rueful smirk,
And said, "Sworn sisters, even if Sword Coast stinks."
They placed palms together in the same pact they made
When they swore to be sisters at the age of seven.
They straightened up, and went to where their warriors
Waited to accompany them through the carnival
clearing.
Veraka had seen death,
But Imoen kept her sane.
They both had been bereft,
But fought on past the pain.

When the two returned from Veraka's troubles,
She said, "Perhaps we should seek out the mines,
For trouble finds us truly no matter the trip we take."
Minsc said, "As you wish, but Boo still enjoys the sights."
Xzar said, "The day is half done, and I don't desire
To sleep in the murky mines if it may be helped.
Let's finish with the festival and find an inn room
As per the plan, oh pulchritudinous one."
Imoen said, "Well sis, there's still some tents left,
And I know a Queen of Fools who should confound and befuddle
The crowds and caravans, Veraka." She grinned.
Veraka soon smiled and said, "It seems silly
To fight against the will of my fine friends,
So we'll canvass the carnival and confuse the locals."
As they walked, Xzar said, "Wait, we're friends?" with whimsy.
"Of course, now come on!" They came to more merchants,
And ran across a halfling hawking a stone heroine,
Offering to sell a scroll of Stone to Flesh to save
The captive now comprised of coarse granite on display.
Veraka said, "We will leave it to luck for this lady,"
And flipped her copper coin to consider the matter.
The coin turned to tails and she did not take the offer,
Saving some money for more merited actions.
The four had their fill of fun and returned to the inn,
One last rest before they reached the region's
iron mines.
They went early to bed,
So they rose fresh and fine.
Minsc scouted some ahead
As they approached the mine.

A few hours' trek brought their troupe to the mine,
And the foreman found them fit for entering within
The dreaded darkness where many met their doom.
Xzar struck up a torch to light their travels,
And Veraka and Minsc moved into the mine's mouth.
The miners and guards gave them ghoulish stories
Of demons and dragons and undead in the deep,
But soon enough they saw for themselves some ways in
It was kobolds creeping in the darkness to kill,
One of the weakest foes a warrior would face.
Minsc laughed, "Mere kobolds cannot stop my might!
Come, we will clean this mine of cowering kobolds!"
The heroes hewed their way through hateful kobolds
Who brought bow and arrow and small blades to bear
But were quickly quelled by the questing champions;
Only numbers now favored the nasty invaders.
As they sliced a bloody swath through stubborn foes,
They saw that some kobolds carried flasks to coat
The iron ore in ruinous residue to render it
Brittle and barely useable, sabotage for sure.
"Why would kobolds want to wither iron?"
Veraka asked. Xzar replied, "They are wriggling marionettes,
Some schemer sends these lackeys to sloppy sabotage.
We will find the wily ones, they will wail for mercy!"
"My sword will be mercy to make them more behaved!"
Minsc cried, and they came to clear out the mine's third
level.
They cleared the upper halls
Killing kobolds with ease
Yet something made them stall
And filled them with unease.

They saw many miners murdered on the second mine level,
But the sight of a solitary corpse seemed a sign
Of foreboding for the few that foolishly entered
The third level of those mines, with thick and foul air.
"I'm scared, mommy!" Xzar said in a small child's voice,
Hiding behind Veraka as he shivered and held her hand.
"Take heart, mewling mage, mighty Minsc will protect you!"
Minsc said to Xzar, then swiftly stepped out and sprung
A trap down a side passage, piercing him with a spear point
That found purchase to puncture the side of his leg plate.
"Ow!" Minsc exclaimed, and came back for clean bandaging.
"You were saying?" Imoen said as she made a silly face.
"Imoen, I need you to do some searching and scouting,
You're trained to find traps, right?" Veraka asked intently.
"Uh, sure, but it's not my specialty sis,
Candlekeep wasn't crawling with traps and crypts,
So I don't have much practice doing dungeon delving."
"You're all we've got, so give it your best girl,"
Veraka said, bandaging Minsc's bleeding spear-bite.
With a shrug, Imoen slunk off searching and scouting,
But soon came back saying, "I need light to see,
You all stay close so I can seek traps to disarm."
The heroes headed on with Imoen at the head,
Taking care as they crept through the creepy mine
tunnels.
Some traps had now been laid,
They ventured on with care.
They often were waylaid
By kobolds in that lair.

Now fought they fell kobolds in far greater number
With some called commandoes with cruel fire arrows
Whose accurate archery gave aches all around
To the tempestuous troubadour's trial-tested team.
They had harrowing times with no healer to help them,
And quaffed questionable quantities of curing potions
To deal with the denizens of that dank den.
They faced a foul bridge fraught with traps and fiends
But claimed a clear triumph over cowardly kobolds
And plunged ahead into the perilous pits.
Minsc crowed a war cry when came into view
Three spiders made monstrous in size and mien;
Their hisses were hellish as they hastened for harm
But the bows of brave heroes beat back the beasts.
Imoen did disarm her divvy of dire traps
While Veraka and Minsc bore the brunt of brutality:
Xzar selectively saved some spells and slung stones
In case they came across some worse confrontation.
It surely seemed an age they soldiered on stalwart
Against the grim foes gathered here to gouge iron
And make the mines murderous to most honest miners,
But at last the way led the lyricist and her allies
To a strange cavern carved in dome-like curves
With an inner domed redoubt defended by moat
And kobold commandoes to kill any that come near
the door.
They boldly cleared the way
And stood before the dome.
Imoen did potions array,
Xzar glanced at his spell tome.

Now rationed and ready for rigorous strife
They came in the dome-cave to cleave the commander
Who poisoned the iron and persecuted poor miners
But eerie quiet quelled the questers a moment
A short hall had three grottoes for the heroine to heed.
Looking left led to naught but a lifeless pool
So they soon stepped back and struck straight ahead
And curiously came across a cowled elf in confinement
Who must have known misery at the hands of monsters.
His robes were rich purples and blues of rare silk,
Though sullied from time spent stuck in bondage.
His grave eyes gave a glimmering glimpse of hope
As Veraka broke his bonds and unbound his mouth,
He whispered, "I thank you for my freedom, friends,
For too long I languished in these lugubrious vaults.
The mine's master Mulahey might still be near,
Unless you poisoned the profligate in his sleep, perchance."
"We will take him to task," Veraka told the elf,
"Tell us quick how you came to be tied and trussed."
"My mission required me to mend these mines,
I am a Greycloak of Evereska, given tasks to guard the peace,
And investigate the vagaries and volatility here.
Unfortunate was my fate: I found Mulahey a fierce foe
And alone I was unable to apprehend him,
So I suffered here until you set me free."
"Then join us in meting out justice and judgment,
For Mulahey must answer for mayhem and murder.
Tell us what you need for the battle to be braved,
And we will equip you with what we have spare."
"Truly, I need sleep, my spellbook and some components
For I am an enchanter, master of mutable minds.
I will be of little use, but one work I will try:
My moonblade is kept in Mulahey's chest.
If you can recover that keepsake I'll clash,
Even though it mean the deaths of our doughty defenders."
Veraka said, "Well then, even if we will die,
I would know your name now, my noble Greycloak.
Veraka is verily my name, I avow."
"Know now that my name is Xan, fair lady."
"Oooh, your name is Xan? Hey dude, I'm Xzar!
Xan and Xzar rock the X-words like, uh, xylophone."
"Now that Boo has beheld you, he says you are dandy;
Minsc has many doubts, but we must make melee!"
"Heya, so I'm Imoen. We had better hush,
so 's we can sneak up on ol' snarky in there."
Veraka said, "Sis, let me try to trick him,
I'll talk my way close to take Xan's moonblade for
melee."
With doubt still in her mind,
Imoen sighed and agreed.
The moonblade they would find
For Xan in battle's need.

With a sure nod, she stepped in the showy cavern
Bedecked with bright pillows in bizarre luxury
Against the gray stone of the grotto's glum walls.
A half-orc rose up, now rattled and riled,
Clad in chain mail with a mace and modest shield,
The man who must be Mulahey made inquiry,
"How'd you get in here?" He paused, dumbstruck.
"Wait, Tazok has sent you, hasn't he? How hateful!"
Veraka said, "Yes, it was Tazok, now talk true!
Reveal your treachery to trade for your life,
And we may yet spare you, simpering sap!"
"The letters will show I am loyal," he wheedled,
"Just check the chest, it will undo these charges!"
Veraka walked warily with Mulahey to the chest,
And she saw he seemed ready to spring on her soon
So she snapped back the lid and swift as a snake
Drew forth a dire blade wreathed in dolent blue flame.
Mulahey sprang forward and snapped shut his chest,
"Fool! You won't live to laud lies to Tazok!
Minions, attack!" Now marauders set for melee
Came forth from foul alcoves to flay the five heroes
A half-dozen kobolds came clashing with shortswords
And four skeletons stripped from stalwart miners
Now animated anew with Mulahey's necromancy.
Veraka cried, "Xan, carve your captors with this!"
And threw the brilliant blade to the elf for battle.
It hitched to his hand with disquieting ease,
The blue flames burned brighter as he brought it to bear;
The kobolds quailed in cowardice to see their captive
Made ready for melee, his mien most cold.
Minsc made for the marauders to safeguard the mages,
But he longed to bring a breach in the blood of
Mulahey.
Minsc guarded at the rear,
And Xan was close behind.
Mulahey felt icy fear
Slip now into his mind.

The half-orc hastily had a spell on his lips
Wrought of foul magic from some fetid god
But Imoen's arrow interrupted the incantation
As Veraka drew steel for the deadly debacle.
Xzar timed his spellslinging to stop further spells
The cantankerous cleric might cast to their harm,
Minsc struck down skeletons and Xan slew kobolds
Stopping the small army at the svelte entrance.
Veraka now brought bloody battle to bear,
The hardy half-orc reeled hard at the blows
But struck some in turn with his steady mace
While Imoen and Xzar reached the wretch at range.
The row raged rampant, ravaging both sides
Till at last Mulahey made a plea for mercy,
"Enough, I know now that I am nigh beaten!
Accept my surrender, oh savage she-devil!"
"You die this day, defiler!" Veraka retorted,
And pressed on in perilous pugnacity.
"You besmirch my beg off? A black heart is before me!"
Mulahey mewled in fear and made further melee.
Veraka soon struck off the saboteur's head,
Crying with weal and wounds, hard-won triumph.
The brave back-line brawlers were sorely hurt
So Xzar and Imoen moved in the mean melee
So to succor their soldiers and stand in the breach.
Veraka found Xan fallen from the fierce fighting,
He whispered, "My wounds are too grave, warrior woman,
I do not doubt I am a dead man." He gasped and winced.
"Not today," Veraka claimed, clasped his wound calmly,
And the maiden's hand mended him, bright as the
moonblade.
The final foul ones fell,
Success had been hard-won.
The heroes had done well,
The mystery just begun.

While Imoen picked through kobolds' poor possessions,
Veraka took the treasure from traitorous Mulahey
And exchanged exotic spell scrolls with Xan and Xzar
Fetched from the chest with a few fair items:
Gold and gear enough to give even the greedy
A share worthy of smiles, celebration and song.
From this loot she found letters lashing out at Mulahey
Telling him to expect tribulations for taking
The lives of mining men, all made out by Tazok.
"We should take these to the town mayor to tell our tale
And claim the reward by right we have wrought,"
Veraka declared, and her companions concurred.
"One moment miss, if I may interject,
Do you wish for me to walk with your warriors' band,
Or part ways now that prison and peril are behind?"
Xan asked, almost assured they all wished him away.
"Of course you can come! You were quite courageous,
Considering you were a wizard with no spells to wage,"
Veraka smiled. "Enchanter," he said, slightly stunned.
"Right, enchanter. You should show me some illusion spells,
Since Xzar seems unable, an opposed school or something."
"You cast spells? Well, I mean, I would welcome the study,
I'm just surprised you know sorcery in such warlike attire,"
Xan said, now impressed with the warrior woman.
"Truly, my witch is a woman of wondrous many talents,"
Minsc smiled. "Your witch?" Xan asked, his eyebrow raised.
"My ward, my witch, I guard this woman with my life,
Ever since Dynaheir... died," Minsc said darkly.
"It's for his dajemma, to be a bold berserker,"
Veraka cut in quickly, "so I became his witch,
So his quest can continue to keep on progressing."
"Ah," Xan said, suddenly sphinxlike,
And turned to the text of his recovered spellbook.
Veraka blushed breezily, but did not
know why.
They loaded up the loot,
And went along their way.
They found a surface route
Past slimes within the cave.

After battling bubbling oozes they broke through to find
An old shaft to the surface streaming sunlight below
The short climb became perilous with risk of collapse
And they heaved past as hundreds of rocks rained hard,
Filling the forgotten tunnel and forcing them forward.
They emerged in a rocky waste wailing with wind,
And bristling cacti to keep them company.
It was now night, and nearly pitch black without stars
And the torches guttered ghastly in the gale outside.
"We should shelter here, the entrance shields us a little,"
Veraka hued over the howling blast,
So they camped at the cold cliff where the mine emerged,
Huddled near a helpless fire, hard at work to stay lit
In a land lacking firewood; they burned large dry weeds.
Minsc remembered his ranger training and readied camp,
Gathering more fuel and finding windbreaks for sleep,
While Imoen asked Xzar about spell after spell,
Her curiosity about casting came in waves.
Xan sat as far back from the wind as fate allowed,
Practicing spells long parted from him in prison.
Veraka came closer in curious observance,
Seeking some shelter from the stormy gusts.
"Our illustrious leader," Xan gave a wan smile,
"Have you come to cast illusions? I know Color Spray,
Though enchantments are much more to my liking, miss."
"Leader indeed," Veraka let loose a sigh,
"I suppose the shoe fits, someone has to do it."
"Responsibility is a great weight we all wear;
The more we must shoulder, the more it mires us,"
Xan sighed in echo to her serious sentiment.
"And what weighs on you, wandering Greycloak?"
Veraka asked, sharing a small friendly smile.
"Five and four score days' torment far from the sunlight
Has taken its toll and taxes me still.
I had hoped our emergence would find happier lands,
What a fool I was to wish for such childish wants.
It is clear there can be no rescue from cruelty,
The world is full of woes and all works end in death."
Veraka gasped silently in the gusting gale,
Not in shock but surprise to find someone who understood
The pointless predicament all people are put through,
And be brave enough to bespeak the bleak thoughts.
"I understand," she said with such solemn conviction
That Xan met her eyes, and the mage nodded mutely.
He spoke to her softly of his brand of spellcasting,
Leaning close so she could hear incantations over
the wind.
They camped through the cold night
In shelter from the wind.
Xan set his spells aright,
While others' wounds would mend.

In the morning they made ready to leave in much haste
To be rid of the raw wind in that roasted wasteland,
And the breeze did abate as breakfast was brought
To sustain the stout heroes and strengthen Xan,
Newly freed from foul torments and feeling the sun.
They traveled to the west to seek troubled Nashkel
To meet with the mayor and make good their promise
They would clear out the kobolds and find the cause
Plaguing the poor miners and pitting Nashkel's iron.
Berrun Ghastkill grinned when they got in view,
And declared the deed done as they drew near:
"It seems I was right to trust you all, truly,
For few others could fare so finely or fiercely.
Word came last night that the way was cleared,
But none knew if our nonpareils yet lived.
I give you this gold, and our grateful thanks,
For finding the fiends who befouled our iron."
So saying, the mayor presented a sack of coins
As a fair reward given for hard-wrought triumph.
They strode up the street fetching smiles and stares
Intent to trade off troves of treasure and shortbows
But a figure faced them down full-furbished in black;
Eyeing each exemplar evilly, every exchange entered
silence.
He parted crowds of folk,
No need to hide nor flee.
The stranger softly spoke,
"I am death come for thee."

He continued, "I know not why the likes of NIMBUL
Must stoop to strife with strumpets and stringy soldiers,
But a contract to kill I consider binding, carrion."
"Now I never knew an assassin named NIMROD,
But I bow to the buffoon who brings throwing axes.
Seriously, who specializes in a short-range weapon
That weighs one so wearily they can't wear armor?
Now I know it to be NIMROD, that knucklehead nutter
Pretending the profession of pugnacious assassin
As he stands in the sun, surrounded by Amnish soldiers
Telling us to our faces he will try to kill us,"
Veraka shot back venomously, ready to vie with vim.
As weapons were brought to bear while Nimbul fumed,
Suddenly the stout soldier Bardolan snapped shackles shut
On Nimbul, who did not notice Bardolan's approach.
"Nothing to see here people, just some knavish nutjob,"
Bardolan said as he brought Nimbul to the brig.
"This is impossible, I am NIMBUL, you insolent ingr-"
Bardolan knocked out Nimbul and dragged him nearer jail.
"That was anticlimactic," Xan said with some whimsy.
"Well, we have to catch a break sometime," Veraka winked,
Then made her way to the merchant to make
some coin.
Evil might have a name,
But that name is not Nimbul.
The heroes enjoyed fame
With no cause to dissemble.

After selling some stock from their store of found loot
They came to the inn and bought a banquet with beer,
And soon were made merry with mirth not miniscule
As Veraka cavorted in vigorous diversions.
Curiosity overcame Imoen, and she called,
"Hey Xan, give us a gag oh garrulous Greycloak,
Sing a song, tell a tale, share some stories sir!"
Xan sighed, "While it wearies me to weave woeful wiles,
I will tell you some truths in place of a tale,
If our leading lady would have lamentable legends."
Veraka smiled, "Verily, I would have verisimilitude
If not downright fact, if no frippery can be found."
Letting loose a loud and lamentable sigh,
Xan cleared his throat and commenced this chronicle:
"I hail from Evereska, and every elf whose eyes beheld it
Would tell you that words will not give justice to the wonder
Of the grounds, hanging gardens and elegant architecture
My people have proudly produced, and which I protect.
My heart hangs heavy with ache, doomed heroes,
To think how I will never touch the trees, taste the fruit,
Or hear the sweet singing settling soft in the twilight
Since my mission bids me here, to meet my morose end.
I am sent to give succor to the Sword Coast from strife,
Bound by my moonblade to achieve brave, bold deeds
For it judges my actions, silent jury to just cause,
And if I am found wanting, it will warrant punishment;
Yet however hopeless and hapless our endeavors may be,
Sometimes with you I almost feel we stand some small chance."
Xan's eyes met Veraka's, then turned to the table suddenly,
most shy.
Imoen said, "Not too bad,
But add trollops next time."
Veraka's smile had
A touch of the sublime.

Coughing, Xan commented, "So Xzar, if you could,
Enlighten me of your morbid tale, I'm most curious
How it happens you have hardened through unhappy times."
"So we don't focus on your fixated flirting?" Imoen cooed.
"I have no notion what needless nonsense you speak of,"
Xan said, as a blush brought color to his bearing.
Minsc seemed about to say something, but then Xzar gasped,
And arched at an angle almost agonizing, and appeared
To be having some bout of bedevilment or breakdown.
He sucked through his teeth as his insufflation sizzled,
And cried, "Come, cruel comedians! My clarion call
Will make your eyes weep with the woeful truth!
My tale never told till now takes the stage,
How a mere boy might suffer as an orphan in Moonsea
And take tragic triumph from his bittersweet trade
Of innocence for experience, sanity for sorcery,
For truly he defied Fate, to his fantastic misfortune,
But won the respect of ones within the shadows.
He took a tome only to be seen with gods' eyes
And that brief glimpse gave him great power to gamble
With the forces of life and finality, a fierce necromancer,
But the book robbed that boy of his brains, I believe.
Now I come from malevolent Moonsea to make my magic
The mightiest ever seen by mortal mage's merit,
And serve those who seek to destroy some usurper:
Our common enemy, the killer who cast down Gorion
must pay."
At this tale told most bleak,
The group glanced all around;
Except for Boo's small squeak
There was no other sound.

"You're a queer fellow," Imoen quipped quietly,
"I like the other legends of your life better."
"So do I," Xzar said, sipping his stein sullenly.
"Minsc was going to make known some mindful mention,
But I have forgotten, and Boo is being coy.
Let us linger no longer with lager, my ladies,
And sleep so we might strike a swift kick to evil!"
"Yes, sleep and silent study are surely needed
If we want even a waning chance of withstanding our quest,"
Xan said, and soon the stalwarts strode towards sleep.
Veraka dreamed darkly of departed Mulahey,
His ghost gazing grimly at the gorgeous girl
While a dagger of bone hung between them, the blade
Ready to sever the soul and send Mulahey to oblivion.
Though Veraka could be vehement and even vicious
In pursuing cold justice - judge, jury and executioner -
The scene sent a chill down her spine as she saw
The power she wielded over the poor puppet Mulahey.
Recoiling, she drew back and the razor of bone
Clattered calm to the cave floor; she could not cleave his soul.
Surprised and thankful, Mulahey staggered past
As he left to find whatever fate his afterlife afforded.
With a cry from the depths, the cruel knife came keening
To bury itself in the breast of the beset bard
Veraka.
She woke in a cold sweat,
Though power in her burned.
She would not soon forget
The whisper, "You WILL learn!"