Author's Note: Thank you for the continued reviews! Any feedback is welcomed, especially regarding the mixing of mod material with anything of my own -- let me know if things seem to flow naturally, or if anything looks out of place. I have to admit that I don't even know who will be in the main group when things begin to settle down -- just because there are characters already there now, doesn't mean they'll be permanent fixtures yet, though I am a stickler for having a nicely formed party early on when I tend to play ;) So if there's anyone you'd like to see playing a minor supporting role, fell free to let me know by PM or whatever -- I'm open to suggestions on who you'd think would work well in this particular Bhaalspawn's party. Since it's not about the story, as such, and more about relationships, the more interesting the combination, the better ;)

----------

Where is the moment when you need it the most

You kick up the leaves and the magic is lost

Tell me your blue skies fade to grey

Tell me your passion's gone away

And I don't need no carryin' on

-- Daniel Powter, Bad Day

----------

Days had passed since his rescue from the Nashkel Mines, and they were... well, still in Nashkel. Nuila didn't seem to be overly eager to go anywhere, and no one was doing much to encourage her to move on and follow the clues they had to work with. Instead, she'd wandered off to the carnival, where they'd inadvertently rescued another -- a woman who had been trapped in stone -- after the druid threatened the halfling presenting her as a 'curiosity' with actions best left unheard by any of delicate constitution.

Xan wished he'd missed the general gist.

So now they numbered five -- the druid, her husband, the pink-haired one, Nuila and this... this barbarian woman with hair even blonder than his elven companion's. He'd been asking himself, almost constantly, what he was doing with this group, but only with the addition of this cleric, 'Branwen', did he actually begin to fear the consequences of his alliance. To say she was eager for battle would be like saying that his companions may well end up being doomed; a gross understatement. The addition, however, seemed to manage to spur Nuila on with her plans, being that the very man who had seemingly imprisoned Branwen in her prison of rock many months ago, was the exact person named in the correspondence they'd found in the mines.

"How very convenient," Jaheira had muttered. Xan hated to admit it, but he agreed with the sentiment, and with the war priestess' encouragement, plans were made to head north to Beregost the next day, where the man was staying in one of the inns.

He soon found out, however, than 'plans' and 'Nuila' didn't go together very well, as that evening, they sat in their usual chairs by the fire, Imoen and Nuila listening with wide eyes as Branwen described her life as a servant of Tempus. Jaheira and Khalid were listening too, though it appeared to be more through politeness than any genuine interest, and their eyes would dart to each other for knowing glances all too often. Xan idly scratched his arm, and sighed heavily. Branwen paused in her tale and regarded him, seemingly thoughtfully.

"Do you find my tales dull, mage?" she asked in her thick accent.

He raised his eyebrow slightly. "I am sure your stories are... captivating... to the right audience," he answered carefully. He could hear Imoen giggling, and a quick glance showed Nuila grinning mischievously. Branwen continued to stare at him for several moments, then barked a laugh, leant forward, and clapped him soundly on the back before standing up.

"It has been a long day," she announced, raising her almost empty tankard to her lips and draining it completely. "If the march tomorrow shall be long, I will need my rest."

Xan barely managed to contain his sigh of relief, but his hopes the party slowly dispersing were shattered when the door to the inn swung open wildly, making everyone present, including him, leap from their seats in surprise. He turned to see a tremendously large figure almost filling the doorway, the wind outside blowing the leaves around in an unsettling manner. Confidently, the stranger marched into the inn, though he did stop and turn, carefully closing the door behind him with remarkable gentleness, then gazed around at his surroundings. Xan's heart fell when the group became the subject of his gaze; a smile lighting up his scarred face, and a purposeful march towards them beginning.

"We should probably all go to b-" he began, his words being drowned out before he could get to the point. He slumped back into his chair, defeated, as the others just stared at the massive man.

"Ah, Boo says you look like warriors who could help Minsc to rescue his witch!" he exclaimed, looking straight at Imoen. Imoen peered over to Nuila, causing the man to follow her gaze and turn slightly so he could address the elf.

"Ah, uhm," offered Nuila uncertainly. "Who is Minsc?"

The man frowned in puzzlement for a moment. "Why, I am Minsc, and Minsc is I," he nodded, thrusting his hand out towards her. Xan watched as she began to reach out herself to accept the offer of a handshake, only to look down at the last moment and scream. She leapt back as the half-elves instinctively reached towards their weapons.

"And this is Boo," continued the man, beaming a proud smile as Nuila's hands went up to her horrified mouth. "There is no need to shout in delight, he can tell you are greatly pleased to meet him. And you do not need to cover your face so -- Boo does not go for the eyes unless they belong to the butt of evil! Isn't that right Boo?"

A squeak came from somewhere -- Xan could only hope it was from the hamster. Nuila was looking worriedly at the female druid; Xan couldn't say he blamed her. It was hardly an everyday occurrence -- to be accosted by a madman and his pet rodent.

"Who is your witch, and where has she been taken?" asked Jaheira with a frown.

"And b-by who?" added Khalid. He was standing slightly behind both of the women, obviously seeking to protect them should this Minsc become a threat. Xan was quite amused by the thought in a morbid way -- he was tiny compared to the mountain of tattooed flesh that was seeking their aid, but the enchanter had no doubt he'd try his best to bring him down before he could hurt any of them -- especially his wife.

"It is shameful for me to admit it!" wailed Minsc, looking genuinely upset. "Glorious Dynaheir and I have been travelling on our dajemma from Rashemen for many months now, and Minsc and Boo have protected her for every step -- even after I suffered from my h-head wound in Cormyr."

"And she's been captured?" asked Imoen with concern. "That's terrible!"

Xan rolled his eyes slightly. How idealistic and naive of pink-hair.

"We were ambushed by gnolls to the west of the town," nodded Minsc furiously. "They were heading towards a large fortress building with many others of their kind when Minsc's world went black. Minsc and Boo swore to protect her, and we must go and rescue her -- though you would be welcome to accompany me on the glorious deed!"

Nuila looked over to the half-elves, who both nodded slightly, then to Branwen and Imoen. More nods. Xan looked away quickly before she could level that gaze at him, hoping to avoid her discrete conference.

"Xan?"

He closed his eyes and groaned softly, then reluctantly looked back to her. Her eyes were looking at him questioningly and he could feel Minsc's hopeful glare burning into him. Imoen was frowning slightly as her eyes found his form, and the half-elves were regarding him curiously.

"Well, mage -- is it not better to act than talk?" came Branwen's voice. Xan quickly dismissed the idea of lacing her next drink with silencing powder. It was quite valuable, after all.

Nuila's gaze still remained fixed to him, and everything else seemed to fade out of focus, as if they were the only two standing in a void of chaos. He forced this from his mind, allowed his shoulders to shrug in a non-committed manner, and felt himself relax when the green eyes moved away from him.

"We'll head towards the fortress in the morning," came Nuila's voice, much to his discomfort. "Xan has a spare bed in his room that you can use tonight, and we will head off at first light."

The mighty warrior expressed his delight loud enough for the whole town to hear, and Xan quietly slipped away to his room, hoping to enter reverie before his new companion joined him. Much though he'd complained to himself about the loitering around the town for the previous few days, he was beginning to realise that it hadn't been all that bad -- certainly, it couldn't be any worse than what they were about to enter into.

----------

They walked mostly in silence for two days before Minsc pointed to the distance, drawing their attention to a building far on the horizon that was seemingly perched on the top of a mountain. Wonderful, Xan thought, things only improve, I see. He was thankful, however, that Branwen seemed to prefer conversing with the half-elves or the berserker, rather than with him, and the two young girls were nigh on inseparable, so neither of them interrupted his thoughts as they walked, or his studies as they rested.

He looked up to Nuila, expecting to see Imoen beside her, but the pink-haired one was pestering Branwen about something, and the yellow-haired elf was walking along on her own. She looked thoughtful; a small frown was creasing her brow, and her attention seemed to be absent from her surroundings. It was unlike her to be so off-guard, he realised -- though they had not travelled long together, the only times he could remember her being truly relaxed were in the confines of an inn.

Before he knew what he was doing, he found himself by her side, inwardly cringing when he saw her smiling to him from the corner of his eye. He cleared his throat. "You look pensive." He sighed inwardly -- he'd never been very good at the subtle ways his peers had demonstrated when conversing easily with the other young elves. Quickly, he continued: "Though, of course, it is only natural in our current situation. Soon we will submit to overwhelming and violent numbers of our foes; in this case, we will have the joy of gnolls disembowelling us."

She chuckled slightly and he felt himself relaxing enough to steal a proper look over at her. Worry and concern still filled her eyes as they looked down at the ground she walked on.

"Do thoughts of Gorion weigh on you?" He managed to ask gently; gentler than he'd expected it to come. The question seemed to startle her, however, and she looked up to him abruptly with a surprised expression.

"I... "Her voice trailed off as her gaze drifted back to her surroundings. It was several moments before she continued, nodding slightly as she spoke. "I miss him, yes. I guess I have not yet grown accustomed to his death."

"Sooner or later, you will be," he replied with a sigh. "I have lost my share of fallen companions, as well. After the initial shock passes, emotions dull and curb. The pain will be there, but you will get used to it."

She was looking back at him. "Have you... have you seen many fall?"

He smiled wryly. "The life of a Greycloak is fraught with danger, it would seem. Too many have fallen, and every time I somehow survived, despite my companions being more accomplished and experienced."

"But you continue with your duties to avenge them," she said, her voice sounding thoughtful. "My father's murderer will pay for his crimes. I will see to it."

"What is the point, Nuila?" He shook his head sadly; her innocence, her human traits -- so much naivety and stupid notions. "You will not bring Gorion back to life by slaying another. Even if you manage to find and kill the man, which I doubt, will it bring you any satisfaction?"

She seemed to relent to his point. "Perhaps not." A small shrug of her shoulders -- they were ascending the first of the hills that rolled towards their destination, and with each step that they took the air seemed to grow colder around them. He found himself worrying subconsciously about her warmth levels -- ridiculous really, as he was clad in almost the exact same as she; though he had the elven good sense to care about how he looked, and to wear robes with style and finesse.

She sighed, shaking him from his wandering thoughts. "But I loved Gorion, and I cannot allow his murderer to go free."

Every bit of him wanted to shout at her, to tell her how folly it was to seek out such a risk -- a risk she didn't seem to understand, to realise the seriousness of. But her pained expression softened him, and he carefully reached out, touching her on the shoulder. "I understand your desire, but it is not a wise one," he said solemnly. "If your mysterious enemy killed a powerful mage so easily, he would find you an easy target."

"I have friends now, though," she pointed out. "Khalid and Jaheira are experienced in their travels, and Branwen seems to be a mighty warrior. Minsc is... well, he's certainly large -- did you see the way he wrestled with that bear yesterday?!"

Xan groaned slightly, remembering the scene vividly; a walk through the forest had quickly turned into encounter with an annoyed grizzly bear, and Jaheira's attempts to guide them away without further antagonising it were failing quickly when Minsc strode forward, a tuneful whistle flowing from his pursed lips. The bear stopped in its tracks to regard him, then turned around, slowly lumbering away. At that point, Xan had let out an almighty sneeze, causing everyone to jump, Minsc's whistling to cease, and the bear to remember its unhappiness. It had raced towards the Rashemeni warrior, and he'd thrown himself at it, rolling over and over with the beast writhing in his arms. Somehow the whistling had started up again, and they both stood back up -- the bear allowing him to give it an affectionate pat before it went on its way, allowing the companions to continue unscathed.

"It was... quite a demonstration," remarked Xan dryly. Nuila giggled to his side, and he brightened slightly -- another glance to her made his cheer short-lived, however, as the melancholy still hung over her. He sighed. "You are of different heritage to Gorion, so he was clearly your foster father, am I correct?" She nodded. "Your real parents might still be alive, then; do you know who they were?"

His attempt to bring some hope into her world was dashed as her features only darkened and her sorrow increased. "I never knew them," she said quietly. "As I said before... my mother died in childbirth." Xan winced and cursed himself for forgetting. "My father... well, Gorion never spoke of him."

He frowned slightly, puzzled by her complete mysteriousness. "You were educated in the way of humans, away from our lands, and you never knew your parents' name?" He couldn't hide the surprise from his voice, though his words were mainly meant for himself. He caught her curious gaze and shrugged apologetically for his words. "Indeed, this is a most unusual occurrence. If someone had told me this a year ago I would have found it difficult to believe, but you are standing in front of me; too real for a cruel, nonsensical joke. Why would he deny you the privilege to know your people?"

She was frowning at him now; words that appeared to be spoken against the man she knew as a father were obviously not welcomed by her, and he quickly wished he'd not spoken at all. "He was a well-known adventurer in his day, so he must have had powerful enemies. I think that was the reason we stayed within the fortress," she replied, somewhat coldly. Her words made him flinch with their dismissive tone.

"But if he loved you he would do everything for your sake," he reasoned. "Perhaps he was concerned about your own safety, not his."

She stopped walking at his words, her face losing its glare, the gaze from her eyes seeming to become gentler. He paused just ahead of her, looking back to watch as she mulled over his words. Slowly she began nodding, then a small look of concern appeared. "But why? What reason would he have to fear my safety?"

Xan threw up his hands in exasperation. "Nuila, you have had how many assassins, brigands, evil-doers, passers-by and otherwise insignificant strangers make an attempt on your life?"

"You have a point," she relented, picking up her pace again and allowing him to continue by her side. He caught Imoen staring over at them with a wide grin, then the pink-haired girl darted over to the druid and pulled on her sleeve. The half-elf's gaze was quickly cast over to the two elves inquisitively. Xan offered a polite, if sardonic, wave of his hand, and both turned away quickly, their discussion continuing in whispers.

He sighed and drew his attention back to his companion. Silence had fallen around her again, but this time she was looking at him, almost as if she was hoping he'd talk more. Desperately he racked his brains for something to say. "Judging by your words, you have spent your youth in the atmosphere of utmost secrecy," he noted, summarising what he'd learnt so far for his own benefit. She helped him by nodding slightly. "That could only mean that a deadly peril threatened you, and whoever wanted your death would not stop until they saw your lifeless body. I fear you are doomed, Nuila, and everybody close to you is doomed, as well. I am certain your company will lead me to a shallow grave."

She continued staring at him, then let out an almighty snort and seemed to dissolve into giggles. He sighed -- he'd been perfectly serious, but she seemed content to take it as an attempt at humour, and soon she was wiping some tears from the corner of her eyes and applauding his wit. He smiled slightly, bowed politely, and manoeuvred himself away from her to walk alone again.

That hadn't been his desired effect, at all.