Montaron frowned down at the crumpled stone across the floor down the right passage. It looked odd. Like many more rocks had hit the ground than he could find there. Glancing around at the broken stone, he happened to look up and found crackles splitting out from a low overhang, where large chunks- unexplainably large- had been torn out of the stone. His brow furrowed together. After a moment he scuffed his feet over the ground, sifting aside debris and feeling carefully for anything unusual.
His toe brushed up against the corner of a raised plate, and he took in a slow breath. Clever. Much more clever than the traps they'd seen higher up in the mine. Were there more? He glanced around and then a spike of panic tore through him when he noticed the same unexplained crumbling in the stone just in front of the party.
"Imoen, how about you and Urso scout ahead again. We need to be careful this low in the mines... and maybe you'll find us some place to aim for sleeping tonight."
"Right-O!" the girl gave a cheerful salute, undaunted by their long hours under ground.
"Imoen!"
The halfling reached her just in time. He dashed forward and grabbed Imoen's arm, just a split second before her left boot came down on the smooth pressure plate ahead of her. Montaron was light, and it took him a moment to dig his feet in so he could overbalance her. But it worked. Imoen glanced down, realizing what had almost happened and sucking in a slow breath.
The archer looked up to see large chunks of rock missing from the ceiling just above her, and light scorch marks that suggested some explosive trap had once and still could turn the surrounding area into a huge stone fall trap. She might have buried the entire party alive if they'd been unlucky!
"Nice catch," Imoen whispered to Montaron as the halfling eased her back from the plate. She immediately stooped to investigate it. "How the devil did you see that? Everyone back up a bit! It's a trap!" Aegis didn't need to be told twice, and she herded the party backwards. Only a moment later they heard yipping from a side xooridoe, and so most of the melee fighters readjusted to deal with the problem. Dynaheir waited to see if either group would need her, while Xzar sat down to play with surreptitiously gathered pieces of ghoul bone.
"Intuition, ye might invest in it," Montaron growled at her, bending down so that he could also have a good look. "That's double ye owe me now," he told her in a lower voice.
"Well both times it was worth it," Imoen teased back. "But yeah. Any idea what payment you'd like? Two magic items, maybe?"
"I'm doin' half the looting," The halfling muttered irritably, still mixed parts angry and annoyed with Imoen for her part in Jaheira's survival. "Ya know... I could think of a few forms o... 'payment' I might be likin' though..." he growled low.
Imoen was wearing leather armor which had openings near the armpit for flexibility (and for Montaron's knives to sheathe themselves). As he spoke he reached about her and slipped two fingers up under her arm, sliding them into the front of her leather hauberk to touch the swell of her breast.
The girl jumped and stared at him. "Really?" she asked, shoving his hand back. Nearby, Edwin perked up suspiciously at the two thieves, and Dynaheir made a disapproving grimace. "Really." Imoen repeated, then snorted out a giggle. "That's the best you could come up with?"
"Seein' as ye owe me, Pink," he snarled, irritated more by the condescending way she dismissed him than by the actual refusal, "I'm not sure yer in the position to be saying 'no.' " He sneered at her as he spoke, thinking her near as bad as a Harper in the moment. All goody-goody, soaped and combed, with nary a thought in her head and no stomach for real work; and too good for real people or a real morality either. But Imoen frowned at him uncertainly and then actually seemed to contemplate the offer.
At the sight of her consideration, a bit of the anger seeped out of Montaron and he realized he was in the process of extorting sexual favors from a kid less than half his age whose sister had just calmly explained the ways in which she'd be inclined to murder someone. Gods, he needed to kill something; the kobolds weren't enough and his anger at Jaheira was twisting his perspective.
"Forget I said annit," the halfling muttered, not inclined to apologize but wanting to establish an explicit retraction of the grope. "Ye can pay me back by not blowin' our heads off our bodies when ye disarm this damn thing."
Dynaheir was looking away and trying to ignore what she'd seen, reasoning Imoen could and would come to her or Aegis if there were a problem. The little man's reaction to Edwin suggested of a sense of camaraderie between the two thieves. Were they also 'together?' Unlikely.
But perhaps the halfling was actually slightly endeared to Imoen, and that was the fuel behind his inappropriate behavior. One of the first ugly lessons she'd learned out in the world was that not all cultures taught their men healthy ways to respect a woman. Minsc had been happy to 'educate' some chosen 'volunteers' as to their errors.
For a moment the purple clad girl merely worked. Then she grinned to herself. "So... what if I said yes?" Imoen asked slowly, looking slyly over her shoulder at the halfling. Edwin wrinkled his nose, catching the body language.
Montaron gave her a puzzled look; then his eyes widened slightly when he realized Imoen might be serious. "There be prettier faces than this one for ye to tempt," the halfling gestured to his scarred visage, and he was glad to be leaning over because it hid his mild interest. He'd spoken with a gutter mind in an ill temper moments ago; but now thinking about it, he knew better than to tempt Tymora.
"Is that a rejection, he-who-grabs-boobs?" the archer queried, amused.
"I told ye ta forget I said anythin'," the older thief muttered.
"Well I just didn't figure you as the kind to play coy, Monty," Imoen teased, leaning over to feel around the edge of the trap. The halfling snarled and grabbed her chin and neck, forcing her to look at him.
"I don't play," the halfling growled at her. "So don't ye either. Pay some damn, serious attention." He jerked his chin at the trap.
Imoen regarded him for a moment. "You nearly started a fight, and not just with Jaheira," she told him. "And you did it because he was threatening me. That was sort of nice, you know."
Montaron pulled back with a surprised grimace, releasing her face and trying to remember if this was so. Then he snarled, because he hadn't remembered it that way, but it sort of was the truth. He'd jumped on Edwin's case while the idiot had been spouting off at Imoen. Did that mean anything? No. He'd been as tired of the Red Wizard as anyone else.
"I didn't do it for you, Pink, I did it because I was pissed," he growled. "Don't put words in me mouth."
"I can tell," the other rogue chirped. "You're as high strung as old Master Ulraunt. I'd point out the nearest soft squishy human to stab- brothel oriented stabbing or otherwise- but... well..." She pointed up instead of in any cardinal direction. Then with a giggle she began working her dagger around the circumference of the plate, peeling it out of the ground and inspecting the magical runes she found underneath.
"Don't test me," the halfling grumbled, glancing at what she'd unearthed.
"No women and nothing to kill but mangy dog demons. Maybe if I simply fed you..." Imoen speculated aloud. "There is some good goat cheese in my pack and a loaf of sourdough."
Montaron glanced at her. Then without another word he began untying the tethers to her pack. Indeed it was as she said; she was laden with fresh food straight out of Nashkel. Montaron pulled out the carton of cheese and the loaf of bread, looking between them for a moment before offering them to her.
"No no," she protested, "I think you need them more than I do. I've a flask of wine on my belt, should go good with it."
Montaron furrowed his brow, but then settled down in the dirt beside her to eat as he supervised her work. She was digging around trying to figure out how the trap was rigged. If she managed to navigate it successfully she might even be able to extract it and sell it for prime coin. If not, then they could at least learn a bit more about how to avoid the damn thigns in the future. Or explode. T'was a common danger in their profession. "When'd ye get so knowledgeable about food?" he asked her. "No one else thought to pack fresh for two days. Best anyone has is jerky."
"I was raised by a tavern keeper, Montaron. I know absolutely everything there is to know about the wonderful thing we call food. I know how it goes best together; I know how to make it; and I know exactly how much it means to people when they're trapped in a tight space together for too long and things start getting emotional."
The halfling lifted a brow, taking a big bite of cheese and bread and then reaching to her side- much more respectfully this time- to take the flask. "So..." he said slowly, "yer a tavern wench?" He grinned. "Never would have thunk it, but then ye do have the breasts for it."
Imoen shot him an amused look. "Watch out, I'm armed to the teeth with rolling pins for battering off charming vagabonds. I am definitely a tavern wench. With pointy arrows. And the sneakies. Rawr."
He sputtered into the flask and coughed, laughing at that. He wiped a few stray droplets from his face and then broke off a chunk of the sourdough, dipped it in cheese, and offered it to her as she worked. "Can't eat it all," he argued when she looked at him in surprise. "Much as I'd like ta, there's only eighty pounds o' me." She'd been right about the food, though. He felt his temper improving.
Imoen grabbed the chunk with her mouth and finished fiddling with the trap's actuator before lifting a hand up to help her eat it. "Maybe I meant my offer," she suggested carefully.
Montaron thought about that, watching her as she managed to unearth the whole of the trap and twisted it about to have a better look. It was quite a marvelous little device from what he could see; one that could be loaded by creatures as dumb as kobolds, but was capable of incredible damage and hid itself so snugly against the floor. "If ye did," he said slower, "it best be a free offer and not cause I asked ye. Yer sister might could use some sourdough herself, and I ain't keen to cross her."
"Hmm, that depends," the archer drawled, and then tossed him the trap so he could have a look. He dropped the bread in his lap so he could catch it, and turned it about to look it over.
"On what, exactly?" he muttered, marveling at the craftsmanship. This was going to fetch a pretty penny on the right market. He'd show Imoen the ropes of that business while he was at it.
"On whether you're any good at it," Imoen explained.
Montaron lifted dark eyes to her. "Yer serious," he muttered.
"Women are complicated to please!" Imoen made a 'spooky hands' gesture as if telling a horror story. "I'm not so sure about you; do you have any experience with women that doesn't involve a red light district? What are your credentials? Have you ever successfully bedded a tavern wench who then requested a second tumble?"
His left eye twitched, his brow arched in complete disbelief of her. It took him a moment, and then he shook his head in dismay at her antics. "Yer one hell of a goose, Pink."
"Why thank you," she giggled. "I shall endeavor to remain so!"
Imoen and Urso were scouting ahead at the front of the party when the scent of wet seaweed put everyone on their guard. "Make a circle!" Aegis ordered quickly. "Xzar, can you do anything?"
"No, exhausted," the necromancer responded. "Minor disruption spells only. War might be able to offer some small assistance; but insufficient experience to do much, I think."
"I can attempt to turn it, but I am not certain I am advanced enough," Branwen told them, lifting up her hammer and permitting it to glow more brightly. They heard a hiss from a nearby chamber.
"Khalid!" Aegis called, but for once the half-elfin fighter wasn't sure he could join her.
"M-my... heart's really not in this," he sputtered weakly. Aegis glanced at him in surprise, then nodded understandingly.
"Minsc shall charge forward in assistance," the barbarian told her, sneaking up to join her side. "Now?"
"Don't let it touch you. Keep it on the other side of your sword," Aegis warned him, and he nodded. Then the two of them went tramping headlong into the cavern with Dynaheir behind them, lighting up the room in fire. Branwen followed them to keep the monster unsettled, if not in check, and to offer help in the event of another paralysis.
Just then Imoen quickly returned the group, with Urso bounding ahead of her. "Montaron!" she hissed. "Kobolds, they're coming towards us fast!"
"Tch, perfect timing," the halfling muttered. "Alright, I'll head down the passage ta get behind em. Ye back up and get ready with your bow, Pink."
Imoen decided that 'Pink' was an acceptable alternative to her name, particularly if a person should want to address her by an abbreviation and could not manage to stomach the overwhelming cuteness of 'Immy' or 'Imm.' "Got it," she agreed, falling back near Edwin and Garrick.
Edwin was watching the two half-elfin tarts whisper quietly to one another. "I'd keep an eye on them, if I were you," the Red Wizard told Imoen tauntingly as she reached him, a remark which earned him a stern look from Khalid. Jaheira was too cowed to be glaring at anyone. "The self-righteous are always the most dangerous companions."
"Stop being so rude," Garrick muttered, loading a crossbow he'd managed to find in one of the abandon guard's stations. It was quite a large contraption, and Imoen was surprised to see he not only looked familiar with the weapon but had the necessary strength to cock it. Doing so involved pressing the nose to the ground and stepping on a bar while pulling up hard with both hands on the string.
"Can you shoot that thing?" Imoen asked, blocking off a rebuttal from Edwin that no doubt would only make life gloomier.
"Yes. I mean, yes, I've used a crossbow before," Garrick told her, hoisting the weapon up and settling a bolt in place. "It takes awhile to reload, however."
"I feel so much safer with you fools guarding me," the Thayan sighed.
Xzar frowned, looking around. Then he gave a delighted little shudder. "Ooh, I'm just never so comfortable as when I'm at least six feet under," he mumbled happily.
Edwin glanced at the necromancer thoughtfully. He wasn't certain what exactly to make of Xzar, but he could no longer dismiss him as a simpleton. True command of the undead was the realm of dark-minded priests, not wizards; and every spell Edwin knew of to control a ghoul would have been far out of the madman's league. Edwin dismissed the idea that the necromancer could be some kind of undercover archmage; it was highly unlikely given his difficulty in controlling the ghoul coupled with how badly he'd permitted himself to be injured by Jaheira. No.
Significantly more likely was the possibility that Xzar had access to spells unavailable to Edwin or to Thay because of his background. Jaheira had accused the necromancer of being a Zhent, and there was every reason to believe that necromancers working for Manshoon could harbor targeted spellcasting knowledge unavailable in other parts of the Realms. Interesting, and something Edwin would have to investigate for himself. Which meant (briefly) that the Red Wizard needed a thief.
For all that Montaron seemed easily swayed by promise of coin, and for all that he loathed Xzar, Edwin doubted the halfling would be so foolish as to assist a wizard he'd just threatened and then expect to profit. Edwin could try using a compulsion, but there were better ways.
Far more easy to manipulate was Imoen, with her soft emotions and her malleable attraction to any show of 'kindness.' A little acting here and a little misleading there, and he could have the silly child led about by her nose. He scratched the edge of his beard, irritated at how it needed to be trimmed, regarding the archer thoughtfully. An easy opener would have been to let her glance at his spellbook. Loathed as he might be to permit such a violation, it would immediately lower her guard. At least he knew her too foolish to actually understand anything past the first few pages. Perhaps it was a negligible sacrifice to make in pursuit of new magic.
Xzar glanced over at where they were standing and then gave a dreamy smile. "Oh," he said in realization but without alarm, "there's another one."
Edwin frowned, narrowing his eyes. What? Then sharp fingers dug into the Thayan's robes and he kicked out in surprise when something dragged him clear into the darkness of a nearby chamber. Immediately he felt his magical protections crumbling as they absorbed the creature's paralyzing fingers. He had moments to act and he sputtered out the words of his Burning Hands spell.
"Edwin!" Imoen shouted, spinning to face him instead of looking towards the onrushing kobolds. When she loosed an arrow his eyes momentarily widened in disbelief. The crazy harpy! She could never possibly hit the ghoul with her laughable skill! She was shooting into the dark against a foe whose body his was largely eclipsing-!
But then her flaming arrow rippled past Edwin with a glimmer from his Protection From Arrows spell. It skimmed past him the same way it had with Dynaheir, and buried headlong into the ghoul's gaping maws with a puff of flame. Edwin's robe of fire resistance soaked any secondary damage.
The creature shrieked right beside his ears, hauling him back further as Edwin grabbed swiftly up for its claws. Under his fingers its flesh blistered, popped, and released all sorts of ungodly smells. This time the damage made the creature release him. Dropped to the ground with a painful thud, and feeling his abjurations had been largely stripped from him, Edwin twisted about to get a bead on the monster. His face dripped into a snarl and he seized up one of his spell component pouches, throwing it forward.
"Sosshik, hi gro wah dii ahmik zu'u bel!"
Draconic runes bloomed red across the ground before him in the shape of an old, familiar summoning circle. The component pouch blossomed with flame, and then a hideous rolling mound of flesh and tumors lurched forward, bathed in red light. The creature- a Lemure Devil- moaned in pain and pathetic excitement. It would be sufficient to hold the ghoul off of him, and that was all it needed to do!
Edwin stood up with an irritated hiss, his fingers tingling with the energy of his craft as he decided exactly how he'd prefer to blot this undead problem from existence. He didn't expect for it to suddenly flee, whirling about to to bound down a nearby hallway. The Lemure and he laughed. Oh no, no it would not be getting away. Edwin Odesseiron did not forgive.
Fire! the ghoul thought unhappily, trying to get out of the chamber as Edwin hissed out draconic. Fire, not like, not like-!
"Edwin!" came a Imoen's shout; not a query but rather a warning. What was wrong now? The kobolds? He had more immediate cares! If five armed people couldn't hold off a pack of yipping lizard dogs then they deserved to delay them with their own corpses! He was no babysitter and he was busy! He had had quiet enough of-
The ghoul stepped down hard on a pressure plate, right as a fresh acid arrow materialized in Edwin's fingers. The Thayan didn't hear the click, exactly, but he felt the answering magical surge. He lifted his eyes to the ceiling just time to see small explosions fracture open the stone, shedding the whole of the chamber's roof. A deeper and more ominous rumble signaled the rock fall traps had gone off one time too many. Support timbers cracked and shattered on all sides of him.
The upsetting thing about the situation was not the ceiling coming at him, but rather the realization that he wasn't prepared for it.
