Disclaimer: Anemone, or Clematis plant's juice, can sometimes cause a rash. While pruning them, I suggest wearing gloves.
The mage Jon Irenicus took another sip of his delicious Oolong tea and leaned back in his chair, leisurely crossing his legs: Interesting... So, what possessed you to have your character, Kincaid, paired up with the drow?
Dislexic: Well I should think it would be rather obvious.
Irenicus: You mean her breasts?
Dislexic: They are nice, aren't they? And oh-so-soft... Oh! But no. No no no, it's because she was the dark and brooding one of the bunch. The evil one.
Irenicus nods: Ohh. I see.
Dislexic: Say.... I thought I wasn't suppose to have any imaginary guests interview me until later. What are you doing here?
Irenicus: Drinking too much tea can do that.
Dislexic: Oh. So... by the way, what did you think of the player character when you first met him?
Irenicus: Well, the first few times around I stood a good chance of beating him, but now that he's up there in level 30, nothing can hurt him. I'm starting to think that becoming a god would be a step down for him.
Dislexic chuckles: Tcheh, yep, I chose his class well, didn't I?
Irenicus rubs a wicked scar on his neck: Uh-huh... So, now we have your character out 30 miles east south-east of the middle of nowhere... any idea where the plot will develop in that area?"
Dislexic shrugs: Hmm... haven't given it too much thought. I suppose they could just have sex until I think of something.
Irenicus slaps his forehead: They've Been doing that! Do you mean this story isn't finished yet in your head?
Dislexic sighs and goes back to the keyboard: It's not that! I'm just adjusting it as we go along.
Irenicus: Any reason why those two are always doing it?
Dislexic shrugs: Well yeah, it's to compensate for my life.
Irenicus: Tcheh. And Valygar passing out on the night Imoen starts going for him. What's with that?
Dislexic: It just wouldn't be right if the two so-quickly progressed in their relationship like that, y'know?
Irenicus: So you have Valygar, a strong ranger possessing an equally strong constitution pass out from alcohol?
Dislexic: Look, are you just gonna criticize my work? I don't have to listen to this! I have other imaginary guests...
Snake: The man has a point there...
Irenicus: Snake.... what do you know about Balduar's Gate?
Snake: Balduar's Gate? What? Is that a new type of Metal Gear?
Irenicus: Great choice, you obviously have an expert on your hands.
Dislexic: Oh shut up! Say... is the camera on?
Irenicus: Uh-oh.... it is. It's been on this whole time.
Dislexic: Oh S***. Play the story, just play the story. We'll do this later.
--------------------
Chapter 4
Signs of trouble
Greaker's Iron Chestplate
Jaheira, Imoen, and two Harpers stood over the body of Akel Arackelber, the young apprentice of Greaker Ironhammer, the half-dwarf blacksmith who ran the small shop in the Gem district. Greaker was a little less then 5 feet in height with his salt-and-pepper hair trimmed short. Likely, he kept his hair that way to keep it from catching on fire while working on the forge. His face was scarred and burnt from decades of smith labor, and despite his dwarven heritage, he bore the appearence of a short, muscular human. He sat on a chair over the boy's body with his head in his hands.
One of the harpers, a young thief named Isplin, turned to Jaheira and whispered, "The position of the body suggests that he was unaware of the intruder until shortly before his death. Most likely, he was invisible. The stab wound was made with a stone short blade..."
"Stone?" The half-elf inquired.
Isplin nodded. "A sacrificial weapon, perhaps. Stone daggers are commonly used as such. This, however, was longer then the usual dagger length." Isplin paused. "The time of death would be around sundown. Give or take an hour. We can't narrow it down further then that."
Jaheira turned to Imoen but said nothing. Imoen shook her head.
"There's more." Isplin continued. "The circle of bloody tears around the body... it's not Akel's blood. Morand examined it magically and he says that it's based on human blood. Whatever that means. He said that for the most part it's human, but there was other factors to it that he couldn't figure out."
Again, Jaheira looked at Imoen, but the girl shook her head again. This time more forcefully.
Isplin noticed the exchange and frowned. "Uh... do you know anything...?"
"No." The druid snapped, waving her hand to signal the end of the conversation. She went to where Greaker was sitting and placed a hand on his shoulder. The half-dwarf shifted and moaned as if to stifle a sob, but did not look up.
"Grey... " She said softly, "Look at me. Did Akel have any enemies? Listen Grey, I know this is hard, but I need you to answer me."
The half-dwarf did sob now. Greaker looked up and rubbed his eyes dry from the silent tears he had been shedding. "The... durned boy... he... I always yelled at him for not working fast enough. If... if he had been done an' finished with his chores... If..." Greaker let out a howl of despair and slammed his fist into a nearby end table, causing it to buckle and splinter. Greaker took a long moment to collect himself before answering Jaheira's question. "He... Akel was an orphan. I took the boy in as me own but... he spent his time here. All of it."
Jaheira nodded, "I see. Thank you, Grey."
The half-elf stood and signaled Imoen to follow her, but on her way out, Isplin stopped her. "Jaheira... ma'am... If you know anything at all that could help..."
His only reply was a cold, warning glare.
The other Harper, an old battle-worn veteran named Yar Ban, chose this moment to make himself known as he joined Isplin in blocking Jaheira's path. The older man towered over the half-elf, with a glare to match her own. "This is my investigation. Just because you have to personal backing of some senior Harper's does not give you the right to..."
"So Elminster is now called 'Some senior Harper' by the impertinent youth, is it? I wonder if he would see things as you do." Jaheira shot back.
Yar growled at the word, youth, but could not refute the accusation. Not only was Jaheira older then he by several years, but he had been out of line and was wise enough so as to not argue that. For several moments, the two simply stared at each other until Yar finally turned and left with Isplin in tow. The younger man turned and cast a look of apology at the two women, who smiled their thanks.
"The Amnish guard will soon be here." The young mage whispered. Jaheira nodded and regarded Greaker again. This time it was necessity that governed her words.
"Grey. When the Amnish Guard come, tell them everything. Do not feel inclined to hold back because of us.
The half-dwarf looked up in surprise. "You... are not working with them?"
Jaheira shook her head. "We who harp do not work that way. Trust us, we will find who did this."
Greaker nodded, but took little comfort in her words.
**************
Valygar watched the two harpers leave Greaker's Iron Chestplate. He noted the troubled expression on the older one's face and frowned. To them, it was the start of some great load of work. To Valygar, it was just another day.
Imoen and Jaheira followed shortly thereafter. Imoen paused to give the ranger a smile, which he warmly returned. If Jaheira thought anything of the exchange, she said nothing.
"Jaheira, I know what you must be thinking, but.." Imoen started to say.
The half-elf shook her head. "The time fits, but I don't think it was Kincaid. The Harpers, however, may think differently. That worries me."
Valygar frowned. "Don't think it was Kincaid.." He echoed softly, regarding the half-elf with a withering look. "Was he ever suspect?"
Imoen and Jaheira shared a troubled glance. The half-elf walked away in the direction of the slums district. The ranger and thief-mage followed at a short distance. Curious, Valygar tugged on Imoen's arm and leaned over her. "Did I miss something?"
"Hmm..." The young woman took some time to collect her thoughts. "We don't think he did it but... we have to be careful. You see Val... where divine events are concerned, well... it's just... different, you know?"
The dark-skinned ranger shook his head. "No. I don't. How could you even consider the possibility that Kincaid would do such a thing?"
Imoen sighed. "The Kincaid we know and love would never but... Listen, I lived with him longer. I know there's a dark side. He... he used to tell me about his dreams. They were so terrible, I never had any dreams like those..."
The ranger's brow furrowed as he regarded his companion. "So you mean that... what? That he has multiple personalities or... Does this have anything to do with his use of magic?"
Imoen laughed mirthlessly. "No, but divinity and all godly things have everything to do with magic. It's not that. It's just that... Jaheira and I were fearful that maybe..." The young woman sighed again and brushed her reddish-pink hair from her face. "Well, like I said, he has a dark side to him. Sometimes you can see it in battle, it's like blood lust, but different. Anyway, it's a side of him that very few understand."
"Who does?" The curious ranger inquired.
Imoen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Jon Irenicus understood... as do Serevok and Viconia."
Valygar blinked. "Viconia?"
Imoen smiled sweetly. "You didn't think he was taken with her just for her looks, did you?"
Stupefied, the ranger could only gape.
Imoen slapped his shoulder playfully. "You never thought much of her, I know. I, too, had my differences with her but... There's more to her then meets the eye, Kincaid knew that. To him, they're the same, those two. They both have that inner darkness, that's why they understand each other."
Valygar absorbed this as a sponge might absorb, say, a boulder. For a while, the two just walked in silence a few steps behind Jaheira. They became oblivious to their surroundings as the buildings progressively lost their luster and became more and more run-down by turns. The sweet, refreshing air that wafted from the Gem District was soon replaced by the rotten stench of the Slums. Try as he might, Valygar could not imagine the brave, confident, goodly Jered Kincaid he knew and trusted to be such a murderer.
"Hm... I think you're right to doubt his involvement, Imoen."
The young woman nodded. "I hope so."
***************
Athkatla Gates.
"Ahh... what a great day for Minsc and Boo and Sword!" Said a large, proud barbarian-like ranger as he left the city of Athkatla. The guards standing at attention at either side cast a curious glance his way. "The city and thousands of evil fallen to the sword of justice behind, and the road to my homeland of Rashman ahead! And woe be to any foul creature that does any harm to any small and furry animal while we are passing by! You hear me evil? Say WOE!"
"Woah! Slow down you long-legged empty-headed rolling paintball!" A gruff voice huffed. The voice happened to belong to Korgan Bloodaxe. The dwarf was wearing a fresh, clean change of clothes under a brand-new set of lightly enchanted full plate mail armor, replendid with a new pair of traveling boots and a cloak fit for a nobleman.
Minsc peered at him curiously. "My head may not be very full, but far from empty it is, you can count on that, yes sir! And good for me that I have Boo here to help. But... Boo wants to know, why are you dressed up for bad dwarfly fashion show?"
Korgan glared, huffed, and put his fists firmly against his hips. "Just what I'd expect from some durned sun-baked human. These I bought with me money left from that little tomb-raid we did a while back, remember ye fallen log? We did all the fightin' an' you did all the 'I'm gettin bitten by vampires' shyte."
Minsc nodded gravely. "Stop making me try to remember. You're words are making Boo worry."
Korgan laughed and slapped the ranger's thigh as he walked past him. "It matters not. I'll make this quick. You travelin' north?"
Minsc nodded. "We go ahead to were snow falls from the sky and where hamsters and rangers tell of their great deeds of goodness and..."
"Oh shut yer yapper," Korgan huffed, "I'm sayin' I'll go with ye as far as Waterdeep. Are ye goin' there or not?"
Minsc blinked, then held Boo up to his ear for a moment. "Boo says Ok. But only if you wash your mouth with good powerful cleaning oil."
"Tell that rodent he can bite my..."
And so the two set off. Heading north to touch base with Candlekeep first, and of course stopping at any of the hundreds of tiny villages along the way. Their destination would be Waterdeep, the Jewel of the North. From there, Minsc would continue on to his homeland... or... that was the plan.
***************
Icewind Dale. Flats before the Western Mountains.
"Well.. it IS hard to make out, hmm? Not a bad spot, well concealed." Kincaid observed, leaning over to his lover as the two tried to make out the Planer Sphere. Neither paid much attention to the biting cold wind. Kincaid was naturally highly resistant, and Viconia's fluffy white boots granted her more then adequate resistance to cold. Aside from her boots, Viconia wore only a light, translucent robe that covered her about as well as it protected from the wind. One her wrists she wore a pair of Holy Symbols. Curiously enough, she possessed two. On her eyes she wore a gift from her lover, a pair of special lenses not even a hairsbreadth in thickness that Kincaid had enchanted to protect her sensitive eyes from the blinding light of the sun (A thoughtful gift indeed, considering that the snow reflected that sunlight a hundred fold).
Kincaid wore little more then she. A Pair of leggings that he had cut off just below the knees and some waterproof boots completed his attire. A belt held up the half-leggings, which he had nicknamed "shorts", and a bag of holding hung at the belt. His wild, dark-blue hair was tossed in whipping wind. Kincaid was loving every moment of it. After enduring the blistering sun and heat of Athkatla, and then the desert region of Saradush, Icewind Dale's cold chill was a welcome experience. With their casual dress and stance, the two looked like a pair of Gods who had come down from their lofty thrones to examine one of their latest creations.
Viconia chuckled. "Hmm. Well-concealed in the middle of nowhere. When you said you wanted to choose a peaceful place, I didn't think it would be one so desolate."
Kincaid sighed. "You are a difficult woman to please."
The drow smiled but said nothing. Then she noticed a movement to her right. Were it not for the lenses, the blinding sunlight would have kept her from seeing anything at all. Something large was crawling in the snow. It was able to do so silently, thanks to the howling wind, and it blended it so well that she only saw it move by sheer luck, Viconia knew. She nudged Kincaid, and whispered something in drow, a language he was starting to understand well. The man nodded and glanced around.
"What is it?" She hissed after a moment.
"Tundra yeti, would be my guess." He murmured. He reached in his bag of holding and withdrew one of his surviving weapons, the Blade of Roses. The beautiful weapon gleamed in the sunlight, adding even more layers of beauty to its already lustrous make. Viconia noted how the sword also made him look even better, if at all possible, and smiled darkly.
As she reached into Kincaid's bag of holding for her own weapon, the now two-headed Flail of Ages (the surviving heads were acid and poison) she asked, "Any helpful clues as to what they are?"
The man scratched his chin for a moment, then pointed to one area of snow to another, then another, counting as he went. "Three.. four, five.... Hm. Well, apparently, they are pack-hunters." When the dark elf did not look amused, he continued. "I've read a little about them in Candlekeep. They are... well, think of them as kin to your own deep bears, fur and all." With that he turned back to face the mountains, whispering. "I don't think they know we know... so let's...."
The drow nodded imperceptivity and followed suit.
The two waited, weapons bared but not moving. Both breathing slowly to counter their heightening heart rate. Two times Viconia thought she saw out of the corner of her eye one of the yet prepare to burst our of the snow and had to stop herself from pre-empting her own attack. Beside her, Kincaid had closed his eyes, his weaponless hand reached out to hold hers.
The crunch of snow behind them was their only warning. The two sprinted away from each other instantly, a moment later the spot where they were standing was smashed by a large driftwood-club.
Kincaid cartwheeled to his left and came to his feet, weapon ready. To his chagringe, he faced off against three Yeti, rather then two. "My mistake." He whispered to himself as he dove aside, avoiding one vicious swipe of a nearby Yeti's paw. Using his lesser height to his advantage, Kincaid charged in under the attack and scored a deep gash across the attacking Yeti's thigh. The blow cost him, though, as he was immediately blasted back by the second Yeti's attack, a crushing paw-swipe across his chest. He landed hard and deep in a snowdrift, winded.
Viconia had better luck, immediately after evading the initial attack, she sprung at the first Yeti. Still recovering from his failed attack, the Yeti had no defense against the limber drow's flail. The two heads crushed the creature's right leg at the knee. Howling in pain, the Yeti tried to swat the drow with a backhanded blow. The agile drow smoothly turned and threw herself into a half-backflip, using the momentum to strike overhead with the flail as she fell just a foot short of the powerful blow. The Yeti, however, caught the attack fully and both his elbow and forearm were crushed. Viconia landed in the soft snow and instantly scrambled back to her feet. With both it's right limbs rendered useless, the Tundra Yeti fell to it's remaining knee, keening in agony. The drow's eyes narrowed darkly at the beast and she swung hard at his head, now within range. The keening stopped.
Kincaid burst out of the snowdrift, weapon leading in one hand and fire burning in his other. As soon as he was within range of his first opponent, he stopped and pointed at him with his burning hand, speaking a single syllable as he did. Fire streamed in a straight, 2-foot jet from his hand and hit the leading Yeti full in the chest. The beast screamed and ran the other way, allowing Kincaid to hit his back too. Unfortunately, his fur did not catch on fire, being so full of snow as it was.
Kincaid sighed and prepared another spell as the other two Yeti quickly closed the space between them. With a singular gesture, the air around Kincaid erupted into a blazing inferno. The sunfire spell threw the two Yeti on to their backs, giving Kincaid a moment to catch his breath and see how Viconia was doing. One Yeti already lay dead, another was held immobile and forced to watch as the drow faced off against the third.
"I got first blood, you make dinner tonight." She shouted at his as she nimbly sidestepped a powerful overhead strike and retreated.
"No. I got first BLOOD! You just got the first kill." Kincaid retorted, hands already moving through the gestured of another spell.
"The two terms are the same where I come from. You make dinner."
Kincaid smiled as a thought occurred to him. "I hope you like steak, we'll have them in great supply."
The drow made a face. Her opponent swung hard parallel to the ground, making the same mistake its companion had. Namely, underestimating the drow's agility. Viconia waited until the last moment and crouched down to jump, avoiding the blow in the process. The Yeti's arm went out wide and up came Viconia. The Flail of Ages stuck hard, caving in the beast's skull with one stroke. It fell heavily to the ground. It did not move. The remaining Yeti, held immobile, could only watch in fear as the comparatively tiny drow advanced. If it could, it would be shaking.
Meanwhile, with one of Kincaid's Yeti being crushed to a pulp by a gigantic, disembodied hand, the other two were somewhat hesitant about taking on the blue-haired mage. Kincaid used their hesitation to his advantage, casting Greater Malision on the two. The two Yeti blinked, unable to comprehend to effects of the spell, then slowly advanced. Kincaid smiled at one and waved, as if to wave goodbye and pointed. A spectral hand shot from his finger and flew unerringly towards the doomed Yeti, slamming into its chest. At that moment, the Yeti knew no fear, or pain, only death. Its life had been snuffed out. Angered, the remaining Yeti, the one with burn marks on it's chest and back, went into a mad frenzy and charged headlong at the mage.
Kincaid braced himself for the attack, raising his bloodstained (But still quite beautiful) sword in front of him. Hesitating for just a second, he then changed his mind and dove straight ahead instead, right between the charging Yeti's legs, slicing an ankle as he did. Kincaid rolled and came up quickly, completing the stroke by digging the sword deep into the beast's other leg, right behind the kneecap. Desperate, the Yeti threw itself on it's back in an attempt to squash to human under it's weight. However, it only landed on snow. Kincaid stood where it had been standing a second before making a gesture with his hand. The Yeti struggled to get at him, but as soon as it sat up it was pelted in rapid succession by four brightly burning arrows. Three did little damage, but at the close range, Kincaid was able to put the forth right through the creature's throat.
"Hmm... didn't you say 'five'?" Said a familiar feminine voice behind him.
Kincaid turned from the dying Yeti, ignoring its death throes as a parent would ignore the screams of a disobedient child. "Everyone is entitled to make mistakes."
Viconia's dark eyes softened as she got a better look at her lover, and her hands went to his chest. "You're hurt."
"It's.."
"Nothing?" She finished for him. "If that is so, then you should have no problem making dinner..."
Kincaid look positively horrified for a moment. "No... I was trying to say 'It's terrible. I don't think I can go on.'"
Viconia smirked, then allowed herself to smile, as though she'd been fighting it. "I thought you wanted someplace peaceful."
Kincaid looked at her as though she had just turned into one of the Tundra Yetis they had put down. "Viconia.... this IS peaceful. It doesn't get any quieter then this."
-------------------
I'm sorry this took so long, but I normally drink my tea with milk. Not too much, of course, but some milk and surger. Well.. I guess it depends of the type of tea. Anyway. This was chapter 4, so I guess the next chapter would be.... uh... uhmm.... like... uh....
uhh.... err..... hmmmm..... y'know... like seven or something.
I know a lot of you are thinking or asking a lot of questions, or maybe not, who knows. All I know is that I cannot repel the words of the Golden Eel. There's really not much you can do about it... it's like some sort of psyonist or something. And then there's Kung Paw, which, like Final Fantasy the movie, will become a cult classic given several decades. It had a lot of laughs, and I had the whole theater to myself so I could laugh as loud as I want. That was cool. I could be like... mystery science theatering the movie.
"It's called a change-over. The movie goes on, and no one in the audience has any clue."
I'd like to take a moment to thank those few of you who have reviewed my work. I'm really happy. You guys think well of me. You REALLY think well of me. I'm so touched. And I used to be worried that you guys were all kind and yes-man like with the reviews, so I didn't know what to think of mine. However, after reading the reviews for this fanfic called "Data" I felt a whole lot better.
Again REALLY sorry about taking so long with this update but you see... something happened to me last Thursday while I was writing. I had a few paragraphs to go--- I looked up and saw a strange glowing object heading for me. It was moving very irregularly. When I came to, I was on the floor...
The mage Jon Irenicus took another sip of his delicious Oolong tea and leaned back in his chair, leisurely crossing his legs: Interesting... So, what possessed you to have your character, Kincaid, paired up with the drow?
Dislexic: Well I should think it would be rather obvious.
Irenicus: You mean her breasts?
Dislexic: They are nice, aren't they? And oh-so-soft... Oh! But no. No no no, it's because she was the dark and brooding one of the bunch. The evil one.
Irenicus nods: Ohh. I see.
Dislexic: Say.... I thought I wasn't suppose to have any imaginary guests interview me until later. What are you doing here?
Irenicus: Drinking too much tea can do that.
Dislexic: Oh. So... by the way, what did you think of the player character when you first met him?
Irenicus: Well, the first few times around I stood a good chance of beating him, but now that he's up there in level 30, nothing can hurt him. I'm starting to think that becoming a god would be a step down for him.
Dislexic chuckles: Tcheh, yep, I chose his class well, didn't I?
Irenicus rubs a wicked scar on his neck: Uh-huh... So, now we have your character out 30 miles east south-east of the middle of nowhere... any idea where the plot will develop in that area?"
Dislexic shrugs: Hmm... haven't given it too much thought. I suppose they could just have sex until I think of something.
Irenicus slaps his forehead: They've Been doing that! Do you mean this story isn't finished yet in your head?
Dislexic sighs and goes back to the keyboard: It's not that! I'm just adjusting it as we go along.
Irenicus: Any reason why those two are always doing it?
Dislexic shrugs: Well yeah, it's to compensate for my life.
Irenicus: Tcheh. And Valygar passing out on the night Imoen starts going for him. What's with that?
Dislexic: It just wouldn't be right if the two so-quickly progressed in their relationship like that, y'know?
Irenicus: So you have Valygar, a strong ranger possessing an equally strong constitution pass out from alcohol?
Dislexic: Look, are you just gonna criticize my work? I don't have to listen to this! I have other imaginary guests...
Snake: The man has a point there...
Irenicus: Snake.... what do you know about Balduar's Gate?
Snake: Balduar's Gate? What? Is that a new type of Metal Gear?
Irenicus: Great choice, you obviously have an expert on your hands.
Dislexic: Oh shut up! Say... is the camera on?
Irenicus: Uh-oh.... it is. It's been on this whole time.
Dislexic: Oh S***. Play the story, just play the story. We'll do this later.
--------------------
Chapter 4
Signs of trouble
Greaker's Iron Chestplate
Jaheira, Imoen, and two Harpers stood over the body of Akel Arackelber, the young apprentice of Greaker Ironhammer, the half-dwarf blacksmith who ran the small shop in the Gem district. Greaker was a little less then 5 feet in height with his salt-and-pepper hair trimmed short. Likely, he kept his hair that way to keep it from catching on fire while working on the forge. His face was scarred and burnt from decades of smith labor, and despite his dwarven heritage, he bore the appearence of a short, muscular human. He sat on a chair over the boy's body with his head in his hands.
One of the harpers, a young thief named Isplin, turned to Jaheira and whispered, "The position of the body suggests that he was unaware of the intruder until shortly before his death. Most likely, he was invisible. The stab wound was made with a stone short blade..."
"Stone?" The half-elf inquired.
Isplin nodded. "A sacrificial weapon, perhaps. Stone daggers are commonly used as such. This, however, was longer then the usual dagger length." Isplin paused. "The time of death would be around sundown. Give or take an hour. We can't narrow it down further then that."
Jaheira turned to Imoen but said nothing. Imoen shook her head.
"There's more." Isplin continued. "The circle of bloody tears around the body... it's not Akel's blood. Morand examined it magically and he says that it's based on human blood. Whatever that means. He said that for the most part it's human, but there was other factors to it that he couldn't figure out."
Again, Jaheira looked at Imoen, but the girl shook her head again. This time more forcefully.
Isplin noticed the exchange and frowned. "Uh... do you know anything...?"
"No." The druid snapped, waving her hand to signal the end of the conversation. She went to where Greaker was sitting and placed a hand on his shoulder. The half-dwarf shifted and moaned as if to stifle a sob, but did not look up.
"Grey... " She said softly, "Look at me. Did Akel have any enemies? Listen Grey, I know this is hard, but I need you to answer me."
The half-dwarf did sob now. Greaker looked up and rubbed his eyes dry from the silent tears he had been shedding. "The... durned boy... he... I always yelled at him for not working fast enough. If... if he had been done an' finished with his chores... If..." Greaker let out a howl of despair and slammed his fist into a nearby end table, causing it to buckle and splinter. Greaker took a long moment to collect himself before answering Jaheira's question. "He... Akel was an orphan. I took the boy in as me own but... he spent his time here. All of it."
Jaheira nodded, "I see. Thank you, Grey."
The half-elf stood and signaled Imoen to follow her, but on her way out, Isplin stopped her. "Jaheira... ma'am... If you know anything at all that could help..."
His only reply was a cold, warning glare.
The other Harper, an old battle-worn veteran named Yar Ban, chose this moment to make himself known as he joined Isplin in blocking Jaheira's path. The older man towered over the half-elf, with a glare to match her own. "This is my investigation. Just because you have to personal backing of some senior Harper's does not give you the right to..."
"So Elminster is now called 'Some senior Harper' by the impertinent youth, is it? I wonder if he would see things as you do." Jaheira shot back.
Yar growled at the word, youth, but could not refute the accusation. Not only was Jaheira older then he by several years, but he had been out of line and was wise enough so as to not argue that. For several moments, the two simply stared at each other until Yar finally turned and left with Isplin in tow. The younger man turned and cast a look of apology at the two women, who smiled their thanks.
"The Amnish guard will soon be here." The young mage whispered. Jaheira nodded and regarded Greaker again. This time it was necessity that governed her words.
"Grey. When the Amnish Guard come, tell them everything. Do not feel inclined to hold back because of us.
The half-dwarf looked up in surprise. "You... are not working with them?"
Jaheira shook her head. "We who harp do not work that way. Trust us, we will find who did this."
Greaker nodded, but took little comfort in her words.
**************
Valygar watched the two harpers leave Greaker's Iron Chestplate. He noted the troubled expression on the older one's face and frowned. To them, it was the start of some great load of work. To Valygar, it was just another day.
Imoen and Jaheira followed shortly thereafter. Imoen paused to give the ranger a smile, which he warmly returned. If Jaheira thought anything of the exchange, she said nothing.
"Jaheira, I know what you must be thinking, but.." Imoen started to say.
The half-elf shook her head. "The time fits, but I don't think it was Kincaid. The Harpers, however, may think differently. That worries me."
Valygar frowned. "Don't think it was Kincaid.." He echoed softly, regarding the half-elf with a withering look. "Was he ever suspect?"
Imoen and Jaheira shared a troubled glance. The half-elf walked away in the direction of the slums district. The ranger and thief-mage followed at a short distance. Curious, Valygar tugged on Imoen's arm and leaned over her. "Did I miss something?"
"Hmm..." The young woman took some time to collect her thoughts. "We don't think he did it but... we have to be careful. You see Val... where divine events are concerned, well... it's just... different, you know?"
The dark-skinned ranger shook his head. "No. I don't. How could you even consider the possibility that Kincaid would do such a thing?"
Imoen sighed. "The Kincaid we know and love would never but... Listen, I lived with him longer. I know there's a dark side. He... he used to tell me about his dreams. They were so terrible, I never had any dreams like those..."
The ranger's brow furrowed as he regarded his companion. "So you mean that... what? That he has multiple personalities or... Does this have anything to do with his use of magic?"
Imoen laughed mirthlessly. "No, but divinity and all godly things have everything to do with magic. It's not that. It's just that... Jaheira and I were fearful that maybe..." The young woman sighed again and brushed her reddish-pink hair from her face. "Well, like I said, he has a dark side to him. Sometimes you can see it in battle, it's like blood lust, but different. Anyway, it's a side of him that very few understand."
"Who does?" The curious ranger inquired.
Imoen pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Jon Irenicus understood... as do Serevok and Viconia."
Valygar blinked. "Viconia?"
Imoen smiled sweetly. "You didn't think he was taken with her just for her looks, did you?"
Stupefied, the ranger could only gape.
Imoen slapped his shoulder playfully. "You never thought much of her, I know. I, too, had my differences with her but... There's more to her then meets the eye, Kincaid knew that. To him, they're the same, those two. They both have that inner darkness, that's why they understand each other."
Valygar absorbed this as a sponge might absorb, say, a boulder. For a while, the two just walked in silence a few steps behind Jaheira. They became oblivious to their surroundings as the buildings progressively lost their luster and became more and more run-down by turns. The sweet, refreshing air that wafted from the Gem District was soon replaced by the rotten stench of the Slums. Try as he might, Valygar could not imagine the brave, confident, goodly Jered Kincaid he knew and trusted to be such a murderer.
"Hm... I think you're right to doubt his involvement, Imoen."
The young woman nodded. "I hope so."
***************
Athkatla Gates.
"Ahh... what a great day for Minsc and Boo and Sword!" Said a large, proud barbarian-like ranger as he left the city of Athkatla. The guards standing at attention at either side cast a curious glance his way. "The city and thousands of evil fallen to the sword of justice behind, and the road to my homeland of Rashman ahead! And woe be to any foul creature that does any harm to any small and furry animal while we are passing by! You hear me evil? Say WOE!"
"Woah! Slow down you long-legged empty-headed rolling paintball!" A gruff voice huffed. The voice happened to belong to Korgan Bloodaxe. The dwarf was wearing a fresh, clean change of clothes under a brand-new set of lightly enchanted full plate mail armor, replendid with a new pair of traveling boots and a cloak fit for a nobleman.
Minsc peered at him curiously. "My head may not be very full, but far from empty it is, you can count on that, yes sir! And good for me that I have Boo here to help. But... Boo wants to know, why are you dressed up for bad dwarfly fashion show?"
Korgan glared, huffed, and put his fists firmly against his hips. "Just what I'd expect from some durned sun-baked human. These I bought with me money left from that little tomb-raid we did a while back, remember ye fallen log? We did all the fightin' an' you did all the 'I'm gettin bitten by vampires' shyte."
Minsc nodded gravely. "Stop making me try to remember. You're words are making Boo worry."
Korgan laughed and slapped the ranger's thigh as he walked past him. "It matters not. I'll make this quick. You travelin' north?"
Minsc nodded. "We go ahead to were snow falls from the sky and where hamsters and rangers tell of their great deeds of goodness and..."
"Oh shut yer yapper," Korgan huffed, "I'm sayin' I'll go with ye as far as Waterdeep. Are ye goin' there or not?"
Minsc blinked, then held Boo up to his ear for a moment. "Boo says Ok. But only if you wash your mouth with good powerful cleaning oil."
"Tell that rodent he can bite my..."
And so the two set off. Heading north to touch base with Candlekeep first, and of course stopping at any of the hundreds of tiny villages along the way. Their destination would be Waterdeep, the Jewel of the North. From there, Minsc would continue on to his homeland... or... that was the plan.
***************
Icewind Dale. Flats before the Western Mountains.
"Well.. it IS hard to make out, hmm? Not a bad spot, well concealed." Kincaid observed, leaning over to his lover as the two tried to make out the Planer Sphere. Neither paid much attention to the biting cold wind. Kincaid was naturally highly resistant, and Viconia's fluffy white boots granted her more then adequate resistance to cold. Aside from her boots, Viconia wore only a light, translucent robe that covered her about as well as it protected from the wind. One her wrists she wore a pair of Holy Symbols. Curiously enough, she possessed two. On her eyes she wore a gift from her lover, a pair of special lenses not even a hairsbreadth in thickness that Kincaid had enchanted to protect her sensitive eyes from the blinding light of the sun (A thoughtful gift indeed, considering that the snow reflected that sunlight a hundred fold).
Kincaid wore little more then she. A Pair of leggings that he had cut off just below the knees and some waterproof boots completed his attire. A belt held up the half-leggings, which he had nicknamed "shorts", and a bag of holding hung at the belt. His wild, dark-blue hair was tossed in whipping wind. Kincaid was loving every moment of it. After enduring the blistering sun and heat of Athkatla, and then the desert region of Saradush, Icewind Dale's cold chill was a welcome experience. With their casual dress and stance, the two looked like a pair of Gods who had come down from their lofty thrones to examine one of their latest creations.
Viconia chuckled. "Hmm. Well-concealed in the middle of nowhere. When you said you wanted to choose a peaceful place, I didn't think it would be one so desolate."
Kincaid sighed. "You are a difficult woman to please."
The drow smiled but said nothing. Then she noticed a movement to her right. Were it not for the lenses, the blinding sunlight would have kept her from seeing anything at all. Something large was crawling in the snow. It was able to do so silently, thanks to the howling wind, and it blended it so well that she only saw it move by sheer luck, Viconia knew. She nudged Kincaid, and whispered something in drow, a language he was starting to understand well. The man nodded and glanced around.
"What is it?" She hissed after a moment.
"Tundra yeti, would be my guess." He murmured. He reached in his bag of holding and withdrew one of his surviving weapons, the Blade of Roses. The beautiful weapon gleamed in the sunlight, adding even more layers of beauty to its already lustrous make. Viconia noted how the sword also made him look even better, if at all possible, and smiled darkly.
As she reached into Kincaid's bag of holding for her own weapon, the now two-headed Flail of Ages (the surviving heads were acid and poison) she asked, "Any helpful clues as to what they are?"
The man scratched his chin for a moment, then pointed to one area of snow to another, then another, counting as he went. "Three.. four, five.... Hm. Well, apparently, they are pack-hunters." When the dark elf did not look amused, he continued. "I've read a little about them in Candlekeep. They are... well, think of them as kin to your own deep bears, fur and all." With that he turned back to face the mountains, whispering. "I don't think they know we know... so let's...."
The drow nodded imperceptivity and followed suit.
The two waited, weapons bared but not moving. Both breathing slowly to counter their heightening heart rate. Two times Viconia thought she saw out of the corner of her eye one of the yet prepare to burst our of the snow and had to stop herself from pre-empting her own attack. Beside her, Kincaid had closed his eyes, his weaponless hand reached out to hold hers.
The crunch of snow behind them was their only warning. The two sprinted away from each other instantly, a moment later the spot where they were standing was smashed by a large driftwood-club.
Kincaid cartwheeled to his left and came to his feet, weapon ready. To his chagringe, he faced off against three Yeti, rather then two. "My mistake." He whispered to himself as he dove aside, avoiding one vicious swipe of a nearby Yeti's paw. Using his lesser height to his advantage, Kincaid charged in under the attack and scored a deep gash across the attacking Yeti's thigh. The blow cost him, though, as he was immediately blasted back by the second Yeti's attack, a crushing paw-swipe across his chest. He landed hard and deep in a snowdrift, winded.
Viconia had better luck, immediately after evading the initial attack, she sprung at the first Yeti. Still recovering from his failed attack, the Yeti had no defense against the limber drow's flail. The two heads crushed the creature's right leg at the knee. Howling in pain, the Yeti tried to swat the drow with a backhanded blow. The agile drow smoothly turned and threw herself into a half-backflip, using the momentum to strike overhead with the flail as she fell just a foot short of the powerful blow. The Yeti, however, caught the attack fully and both his elbow and forearm were crushed. Viconia landed in the soft snow and instantly scrambled back to her feet. With both it's right limbs rendered useless, the Tundra Yeti fell to it's remaining knee, keening in agony. The drow's eyes narrowed darkly at the beast and she swung hard at his head, now within range. The keening stopped.
Kincaid burst out of the snowdrift, weapon leading in one hand and fire burning in his other. As soon as he was within range of his first opponent, he stopped and pointed at him with his burning hand, speaking a single syllable as he did. Fire streamed in a straight, 2-foot jet from his hand and hit the leading Yeti full in the chest. The beast screamed and ran the other way, allowing Kincaid to hit his back too. Unfortunately, his fur did not catch on fire, being so full of snow as it was.
Kincaid sighed and prepared another spell as the other two Yeti quickly closed the space between them. With a singular gesture, the air around Kincaid erupted into a blazing inferno. The sunfire spell threw the two Yeti on to their backs, giving Kincaid a moment to catch his breath and see how Viconia was doing. One Yeti already lay dead, another was held immobile and forced to watch as the drow faced off against the third.
"I got first blood, you make dinner tonight." She shouted at his as she nimbly sidestepped a powerful overhead strike and retreated.
"No. I got first BLOOD! You just got the first kill." Kincaid retorted, hands already moving through the gestured of another spell.
"The two terms are the same where I come from. You make dinner."
Kincaid smiled as a thought occurred to him. "I hope you like steak, we'll have them in great supply."
The drow made a face. Her opponent swung hard parallel to the ground, making the same mistake its companion had. Namely, underestimating the drow's agility. Viconia waited until the last moment and crouched down to jump, avoiding the blow in the process. The Yeti's arm went out wide and up came Viconia. The Flail of Ages stuck hard, caving in the beast's skull with one stroke. It fell heavily to the ground. It did not move. The remaining Yeti, held immobile, could only watch in fear as the comparatively tiny drow advanced. If it could, it would be shaking.
Meanwhile, with one of Kincaid's Yeti being crushed to a pulp by a gigantic, disembodied hand, the other two were somewhat hesitant about taking on the blue-haired mage. Kincaid used their hesitation to his advantage, casting Greater Malision on the two. The two Yeti blinked, unable to comprehend to effects of the spell, then slowly advanced. Kincaid smiled at one and waved, as if to wave goodbye and pointed. A spectral hand shot from his finger and flew unerringly towards the doomed Yeti, slamming into its chest. At that moment, the Yeti knew no fear, or pain, only death. Its life had been snuffed out. Angered, the remaining Yeti, the one with burn marks on it's chest and back, went into a mad frenzy and charged headlong at the mage.
Kincaid braced himself for the attack, raising his bloodstained (But still quite beautiful) sword in front of him. Hesitating for just a second, he then changed his mind and dove straight ahead instead, right between the charging Yeti's legs, slicing an ankle as he did. Kincaid rolled and came up quickly, completing the stroke by digging the sword deep into the beast's other leg, right behind the kneecap. Desperate, the Yeti threw itself on it's back in an attempt to squash to human under it's weight. However, it only landed on snow. Kincaid stood where it had been standing a second before making a gesture with his hand. The Yeti struggled to get at him, but as soon as it sat up it was pelted in rapid succession by four brightly burning arrows. Three did little damage, but at the close range, Kincaid was able to put the forth right through the creature's throat.
"Hmm... didn't you say 'five'?" Said a familiar feminine voice behind him.
Kincaid turned from the dying Yeti, ignoring its death throes as a parent would ignore the screams of a disobedient child. "Everyone is entitled to make mistakes."
Viconia's dark eyes softened as she got a better look at her lover, and her hands went to his chest. "You're hurt."
"It's.."
"Nothing?" She finished for him. "If that is so, then you should have no problem making dinner..."
Kincaid look positively horrified for a moment. "No... I was trying to say 'It's terrible. I don't think I can go on.'"
Viconia smirked, then allowed herself to smile, as though she'd been fighting it. "I thought you wanted someplace peaceful."
Kincaid looked at her as though she had just turned into one of the Tundra Yetis they had put down. "Viconia.... this IS peaceful. It doesn't get any quieter then this."
-------------------
I'm sorry this took so long, but I normally drink my tea with milk. Not too much, of course, but some milk and surger. Well.. I guess it depends of the type of tea. Anyway. This was chapter 4, so I guess the next chapter would be.... uh... uhmm.... like... uh....
uhh.... err..... hmmmm..... y'know... like seven or something.
I know a lot of you are thinking or asking a lot of questions, or maybe not, who knows. All I know is that I cannot repel the words of the Golden Eel. There's really not much you can do about it... it's like some sort of psyonist or something. And then there's Kung Paw, which, like Final Fantasy the movie, will become a cult classic given several decades. It had a lot of laughs, and I had the whole theater to myself so I could laugh as loud as I want. That was cool. I could be like... mystery science theatering the movie.
"It's called a change-over. The movie goes on, and no one in the audience has any clue."
I'd like to take a moment to thank those few of you who have reviewed my work. I'm really happy. You guys think well of me. You REALLY think well of me. I'm so touched. And I used to be worried that you guys were all kind and yes-man like with the reviews, so I didn't know what to think of mine. However, after reading the reviews for this fanfic called "Data" I felt a whole lot better.
Again REALLY sorry about taking so long with this update but you see... something happened to me last Thursday while I was writing. I had a few paragraphs to go--- I looked up and saw a strange glowing object heading for me. It was moving very irregularly. When I came to, I was on the floor...