Disclaimer: We do not guarantee that the Final Aeon will permanently defeat Sin, and in no way insinuate that you will live after using it. Use at your own risk.
Jon Irenicus sniffed a couple of times, then smiled: Ah... I smell eggs.
Dislexic: Uh-huh. They're very good for you, the whites mostly. They're good for building muscles.
Irenicus: Then why do you still weigh 135?
Dislexic: Hey! I've only, like, just started weightlifting, like, in December. Give me a few more months, okay?
Irenicus: Heh heh, sure. Anyway, back to the interview. Now I am curious, Dislexic, Aren't you going to have some more imaginary guests here later on? What of Amylessan the Darkhearted?
Dislexic shook his head: Nope, can't spell her name right, so says de people. But you might see some Characters from other games here.
Irenicus: Until then... Well anyway, as we saw in the previous chapter, Jaheira, Imoen and Valygar are on the trail of the Murderer, while Minsc and Korgan."
Dislexic: Don't forget Boo and Lilarcor.
Irenicus: Riiiiiight. While Minsc, Korgan, Boo, and Lilarcor sojourn to Rasheman, making a pit stop in Waterdeep along the way to stock up on Lays and Coke.
Dislexic: Just about, yeah.
Irenicus: And what of Kincaid and Viconia? What will they be doing in the meantime?
Dislexic: For the most part, having sex.
Irenicus: I see. Say is this rumor about you writing a lemon going to be a reality?
Dislexic: It might, though I'm not sure if my work can keep up with that of certain 14-year-old girls who just squeeze them out like nothing. So I just may never write a full-fledged lemon, but there will be lemon-juice in my fics.
Irenicus: Lemon-juice you say?
Dislexic: Yeah, it goes well with tea.
----------------------
Chapter 5
Conspiracy
Athkatla. Waukeen's Promenade. The Adventurer's Mart.
Valygar shifted nervously as Imoen went from one spell scroll to the next, occasionally handing one to him. Despite the fact that he was more at ease where magic was concerned, the ranger still had his misgivings and doubted he would ever truly become comfortable with the magical arts. In fact, these misgivings helped to shape Valygar's skills as a ranger. While Minsc had honed his combat prowess to a priority, Valygar focused on resisting the vile effects of magic and could now ward off even the deadliest of spells. Despite this fact, Valygar shifted nervously while accepting another scroll from the pink-haired mage.
"Ah! Genai Lunare." The mage exclaimed as she fished out another scroll and read the sigil that sealed it.
"What spell is that?" Valygar asked wearily.
Imoen shook her head. "Not a spell, a mage, this was made by her, it seems."
Valygar waited restlessly for an explanation, then prompted her when none was forthcoming. "And she is...?"
Imoen looked up and blinked. "Hm? Oh, Kincaid and I knew her from a tavern we used to frequent. The Red Dragon Inn." Imoen paused and her face clouded over with momentary sadness. "Unfortunately it burned down years ago... we had a few good memories there."
Imoen sighed, holding the scroll in her hands like a precious memento before adding it to Valygar's armful. "I think I'll have it as a keepsake."
Valygar eyed the scroll as a guard would a known thief. "What does it do?"
"Well, knowing Genai..." Imoen stopped herself in mid-sentence as she remembered who she was talking to and turned away from him, her cheeks flushed a color that matched her hair. "It... uhm... well... it's one of those spells."
Valygar didn't quite understand enough about magic to even begin to grasp what she was implying. He let it drop, though, muttering under his breath about foul magic and why he'd ever let Imoen talk him into going with her to do some spell shopping. Imoen continued on to another scroll. She held it up to the light in her slim, delicate hands, and then set it back down.
Valygar regarded the young woman quietly, almost longingly. Behind her seemingly frivoles, cheerful demeanor was an intelligent, methodical woman. His respect for her had always been a constant, though you would not think it would be, given her magical background. Many times she had been responsible for quelling a would-be disaster. Her and her magic, he reminded himself. Yes, the ranger could also fail to hide his appreciation for her taking time to teach him about the art. As she had told him, he indeed felt that the more he learned about magic's mysterious ways the less fear and loathing he felt towards it.
"Valygar? What are you thinking?" Imoen asked softly when she noticed he had spaced out.
"Arguing with myself..." He murmured.
"What?"
Valygar snapped awake and straightened his stance. "Huh? Oh, nothing..."
Imoen peered cautiously at the man, but said nothing. The pair presented their selection to Ribald Batterman, the proprietor of the Adventurer's mart. He greeted them with a smile and the usual 'How are things?' before getting down to business. Valygar stood by in amazement as Imoen gradually brought Ribald's prices down to but a fraction of what he originally asked. Despite this, the merchant never seemed upset at the loss to his profits. Imoen's disarmingly cheerful demeanor kept a smile on his face as she worked her way down to paying dirt-cheap prices for some of the best-quality spell scrolls in Athkatla.
Not that the anti-mage city had an abundance of those, mind.
"Look you, I've never gone below a thousand for scrolls of that level, but seeing as you're a regular customer and that you're buying so many I'll ask for... 985." Ribald was saying when Jaheira entered. The Half-elf looked even more troubled then ever, and it showed plainly on her face.
Imoen smiled cheerfully at the merchant and casually brushed some hair from her face, she was about to make a counter offer when Jaheira tugged on her arm. "What?"
"It's happened again. Twice more in the city and I've received word that two more bodies have been discovered in Trademeet-" The half-elf stopped herself, and eyed Ribald. The merchant raised his hands in the 'I want nothing to do with whatever it is' gesture and remembered he had something important to do on the other side of the store.
Valygar watched him go, then looked over his shoulder at Jaheira. "The same way?"
The druid shook her head. "One was hung, the other poisoned. In Trademeet the first body was beaten with a blunt object and the other was thrown off of the top of the Alibakkar estate. It does not make much sense. The only constant in this is the circle of tear-shaped blood drops around the bodies. If not for that, we would have thought them to be any other-"
"Murder." Imoen quietly finished for her. She looked up into her half-elven friends eyes and saw that she understood. Valygar too, nodded.
"All murdered... it doesn't matter how" He breathed, leaning against the desk that now held Imoen's choice of scrolls.
Jaheira was silent for several moments before adding. "That's not all. According to my sources-"
"You mean your Harper friends." Valygar gently put. It was more a way to remind her that she need not keep secrets from them then anything else.
Jaheira nodded. "Call then what you would. According to them, the Murder's where committed in twelve-hour intervals. First a homeless man in the Bridge district was hung at dusk two days ago. Then, a young boy was hurled from the top of the Alibakkar estate at dawn."
Valygar took a moment to digest this. "Trademeet is a full day's travel from here."
Jaheira nodded. "So you see what worries me. This is no single murderer, lest he be a quick one.
Imoen sighed and waved Ribald over. The merchant, who had been subtly watching them from the far side of the shop, obliged.
The young mage smiled pleasantly and gestured towards the small pile of scrolls. "Say, we have some important, world-saving business to attend to so... let's say 650 each and I'll tell any young aspiring adventurer I meet where I get my good stuff from, eh?"
This time, Ribald fidgeted somewhat, but with a little more coaxing from the attractive young woman he let go a final offer of 720 each, which Imoen gladly accepted.
******************
Somewhere on the road. It doesn't matter.
Korgan's hand occasionally strayed to the handle of his axe, a blade legend called the Frostreaver. The world held weapons of greater power, Korgan knew, but such weapons were often in the hands of those who would use them more. The dwarf found that, these days at least, a mug of ale would just as likely be in his hand as an axe handle. Idle indeed. Walking on the road had painfully reminded him everywhere from his heels to his buttocks what toll that idleness had taken on his body. Korgan simply endured this with typical dwarven stoicism, though, and said not a word.
Not that he was interested in conversing with his addle-minded companion in any case, mind.
Minsc, for his part, was simply overjoyed to be breathing in the fresh air again. And to be on his way to his homeland. And to be known as a hero the world over, or so he fondly hoped. Every now and then he'd start singing a song most eight-year-olds could better. Boo seemed appreciative of this. Korgan did not.
"For the last blasted time you belly-bladder for a bagpipe," The dwarf roared when Minsc was in the third stanza of Evil cannot run from a hamster. "Shut yer hole else me axe may cut it off."
Minsc looked somewhat startled, then confused. "Err... Boo wants to know, how you cut off a hole?"
Korgan stopped and furrowed his brow. ".... It can happen."
The ranger was easily sidetracked, however, and started running off, yelling, "Ohh, squirrels! I know I saw them. Quick Boo! Throw nuts!"
"Damn ye." The dwarf huffed as he tried to keep up. By the time he reaches Minsc at the forest line, the ranger and his hamster were both kneeling and tossing small nuts this way and that. Korgan frowned at them and grumbled irritably under his breath. Minsc looked up at his arrival and smiled.
"Come on! Help us feed the squirrels." The ranger called out happily. "Boo says it will take your mind off of what makes your blood pressure go so high. Though I know not what this 'blood pressure' means."
Korgan favored the ranger with an incredulous look. "Ye mean you want me to throw nuts at these durned rats?" He demanded doubtfully.
Minsc nodded and tossed another handful into the trees. A few squirrels made an appearance and quickly snatched them up, stuffing the nuts into their cheeks until tripling the width of their heads. As one scampered up a tree, Korgan grabbed a fair-sized nut and threw it. The small missile hit its mark and the small rodent fell off the tree, letting go of its cache of nuts as it fell.
Korgan crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly while Minsc gave him a withering look. "When you're right, you're right."
With that, the dwarf scooped up a handful of nuts and pelted one squirrel after another. Boo scurried into the safety of Minsc's food pouch.
"You don't need to force-feed them, friend." Minsc started. "Squirrels are able to feed themselves, though Boo says you have nice distance."
"Twenty-one... twenty-two... twenty-three." Korgan counted under his breath hurling nuts one after another. Another squeaking sound and the occasional falling body rewarded each throw. "Nonsense Minsc, we need to feed the things, right?"
Another squeak, another squirrel fell.
******************
The Planer Sphere. The Afterglow.
Viconia let out a long, well-satisfied sigh of content and stretched like a cat. The dim candlelight played on her bare, ebony skin. The sweat that covered her body, a testament to the excursion she had happily put herself through moments before, glistened like tiny diamonds all over her nude body. Her well-toned muscles flexed under that lust-inspiring skin. For a moment, she looked like the obsidian sculpture of a goddess.
Kincaid kneeled over her body, one knee on either side of her waist, watching her stretch. When most women raised their arms over their heads like that their breasts would flatten and disappear. Not Viconia's. Her's were full and perfect and, like every other part of her body, Kincaid found that he could stare at them for hours.
A lustful smile curved the drow's lips as she laced her fingers behind her head. "You're welcome to do more then look, Lover."
Kincaid responded his a wicked smile of his own. "Don't tempt me; we may never leave this bed."
Viconia waited expectantly before saying, "And your point is..."
The human threw his head back and sighed through his widening grin. He looked down to see Viconia staring at him. "I seem to remember your telling me that I was the only woman you'd ever been with..." She remarked quietly.
Kincaid nodded slowly.
"Then..." The elf continued, "Where exactly did you learn that?"
Kincaid smiled innocently, "Learn what?"
"You know what I'm talking about. That thing you did earlier." She nudged him with one shapely thigh.
The human smiled and licked his lips suggestively. "Oh... that. You liked that didn't you?"
The Drow's smile was more then enough of an answer.
He lowered himself on to her, planting small kisses on her still sweaty neck. "Would you believe 'From a book'"?
"I'm afraid not. I believe a woman taught that to you." She murmured, softly in her lover's ear as he worked his way up her neck. One slender, black hand crawled up and down his muscular back.
"Would I lie to you? I honestly learned it from a book in Candlekeep." Kincaid traced the outline of her ear with his tongue. Elves were sensitive to such attention, and Viconia was no exception. The elf let out a little gasp and shuddered in response. "It was a book brought over from Kara-Tur, I recall... The Karma Satara.... no, The Coma Surtra.... You know... one of those odd names."
Just then a glowing disk appeared not far from the two entwined lovers. Magical fire danced around the disk's edge as his formed a smooth, shiny, glasslike surface. A cloudy image slowly took focus into the face of a young woman with reddish-pink hair.
"Kincaid! Viconia! Are you ther-" The face in the disk stopped in mid-sentence. "Oh... I take it this is a bad time..."
Kincaid looked over his shoulder. "Hm? Oh, hi Imoen." He looked apologetically to a disappointed Viconia. The drow moaned and reached for her robe that was lying on the floor. Kincaid, however, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. In response, his cutoff leggings stood up and walked over to him.
"So," The wizard started to say as he pulled them on. "To what do I owe the honor of this sending?"
Imoen, who had been covering her eyes (though she peeked through them every now and then), said, "Look, I know you don't want to hear this but... there's a problem. People are being murdered and the symbol of Bhaal is left around their bodies. Ok, there. I said it."
Kincaid groaned and dropped his head to his hands. "You were right. I didn't want to hear that."
Viconia got into a more comfortable sitting position beside Kincaid. "What good does it do to tell us? We are thousands of miles away, and we're not about to get this thing working again just so we can rush headlong into another misadventure." She looked to Kincaid for support. "Right?"
The human nodded and turned to the disk. "She's right. If worse comes to worse, I can get this sphere moving again but it's not nearly as easy as you might think."
"That's not why I contacted you." Imoen replied. "Jaheira told me that-"
"Imoen, you can uncover your eyes now. It's rather unsettling to be talking to you while you look like that." Viconia pointed out dryly.
"Oh, right." the mage continued. "Jaheira said that she had been informed, through her Harper sources, that these murder's are happening elsewhere. They seem to be coordinated. I hope it's just here in Amn but..." The young woman went silent for a moment. Her face darkened. Despite all they had been through, she still did not like to see, hear about, or have anything to do with murder and death. Kincaid could easily understand that. "Well... I just hope its only happening here."
Kincaid nodded. A smile came to his lips as he remembered a quote. "Whenever I think I can relax someone hastens to brutally point out to me that I've fresh work to do. It's time to save the world again."
Imoen smiled. "From Storm Silverhand?"
Kincaid nodded. "It would seem that I can claim those words for myself, as well." He then turned to explain the quote for the benefit of his drow lover, who carelessly shrugged. When his gaze returned to Imoen's sending, he saw a wistful look on her face. "What is it?"
Imoen bit her lip. "Things are going well for you, aren't they?"
Kincaid smiled and brushed away and errant lock of hair. "I'm greatly enjoying my vacation time, yes."
Viconia wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and leveled a cool look at Imoen. "Actually, we're greatly enjoying each other, or were, I might add. A certain sending appeared in our bedchambers and caused an interruption. Were this the underdark, such an action would warrant death, brutal and immediate. I would know."
Imoen lowered her gaze. "Uh, yeah... really sorry about that."
Kincaid sighed and shook his head at the ever-neutral ceiling. "Things are not going as well for you?" He asked quickly.
"Well... yes, I suppose. Things are great, aside from the murders and the odd stares people send my way and the... " Her voice trailed off.
Kincaid nodded. "Imoen... Valygar is one of those strong-and-silent walking monolith types. Honor is his creed. You need to be more assertive, methinks." He flashed her a cheerful smile, encouraging her to do likewise. "You'll be fine."
The face in the disk nodded once, then faded. The disk followed soon thereafter.
For a while, the two sat in the darkness silently. Viconia rested her head in her lover's shoulder and he reached up to gently stroke her silky white hair. "You're not happy about this." He noted quietly.
"You've pointed out what's already painfully obvious, good for you." The elf murmured.
"I'm good at that, aren't I?" The man replied easily. "Why, just the other day I made the discovery that the sky was blue. This being a thing of historic importance, I decided to write it down."
Viconia smirked despite herself. "And here I was thinking it was black."
Kincaid looked thoughtful. "Well... it's been known to change colors."
"I just don't get it." She sighed as she let herself fall back on to the bed. "If some knife-happy murderers weed out the weak, those who let themselves be killed, why should you care?"
Kincaid half-smiled. "You have a point. If it were some knife-happy murderer, I would care not. But anything that has to do with Bhaal will eventually come back to me, I've learned." He took one of her slender black hands and held it against his face meaningfully. A simple gesture, perhaps, but far more powerful then words between the two. "I'd rather confront it, and hope for the best."
The drow resigned herself to her fate, shaking her head as she watched the road ahead take a rockier path. She had been serious when she brought up the idea of a quiet, peaceful place to live that day in the forests north of Umar Hills. The surface was indeed a hostile place for any drow to make herself at home. With Kincaid by her side, it seemed a better place to be. No other human, no other surfacer had offered as much as he without demanding anything in return. Most surface dwellers took one look at her dark skin and reached for the nearest bladed object.
The dark elf reflected on their lives together. Once, after all his kindness and understanding, she had felt unworthy of him. Him! A male! And a human male at that. She had tried to push him away, first with deceit then with a full-blown argument, but he would have none of it. He had saved her life more then once, more then twice, and had the capacity to bring himself to fall in love with an outcast drow. They had argued, true, and insults had often gone both ways, but in the end he had defeated her. Viconia could not succeed in pushing him away. Further more, she no longer wanted to. His patience and understanding won in the end, and Viconia knew that if to follow him were to walk into death, she would go quietly.
"I'll come with you." She whispered quietly.
Kincaid nodded. "Tomorrow we'll check Tentowns and see if there's been any murders there. Then we'll head south."
Viconia absorbed this quietly then looked up to meet his intense blue eyes. "But not until tomorrow." She said suggestively. Her hand snaked around to get a grip on her lover's hair and pulled him down. Kincaid was only too eager to comply.
---------------------
I've had less tea this time, and for that I apologize. Though in recompense, I've eaten plenty of eggs. I know some of you may think that my updates are long in coming... well, you're wrong. They take days because they're long, and I have work, sleep, workouts, and sleepouts. Furthermore, I have less tea. You know... I hit overtime last night, so they might give me tomorrow off. Not that any off this means anything to you. Sometimes I wonder about the whole lemon deal.
Why lemons? Why not peaches? What? Are peaches too obvious?
"Why yes, I just ate myself a peach and had a glass of lemonade." I suppose it's nothing. Everytime I change to a new environment, though, I must adapt to the new protocol. But still, have you tried to eat a lemon? It makes your face go like THIS! Look at me; my cheeks are all sucked in and... Well... it's the lemon-face deal. Eat a peach and you look like THIS! See? I'm smiling! I have that fresh-peach-taste-in-my-mouth smiley face on. And don't even get me started on cherries. That taste is just... mph! Oh yeah!
But I guess cherries are too obvious also. So we write lemons, rather then any other type of fruit.
"How do you like them apples?"
There's another one. Apples. Red and ripe, you could just bit right into them and let the flavor flow. And for you ladies, we have bananas! I remember this watermelon I had once, I couldn't finish it by myself because it was too big.
Now before I pass out (The pill's wearing off) I'd like to thank you for your time. Those of you who read, please review (One in ten will actually do so, I know). Also, I hope those of you who like to smell lemons enjoy to mild lemon-scent I add to my chapters.
Lemon-scent is where you can smell a lemon... but you never actually see one......
Jon Irenicus sniffed a couple of times, then smiled: Ah... I smell eggs.
Dislexic: Uh-huh. They're very good for you, the whites mostly. They're good for building muscles.
Irenicus: Then why do you still weigh 135?
Dislexic: Hey! I've only, like, just started weightlifting, like, in December. Give me a few more months, okay?
Irenicus: Heh heh, sure. Anyway, back to the interview. Now I am curious, Dislexic, Aren't you going to have some more imaginary guests here later on? What of Amylessan the Darkhearted?
Dislexic shook his head: Nope, can't spell her name right, so says de people. But you might see some Characters from other games here.
Irenicus: Until then... Well anyway, as we saw in the previous chapter, Jaheira, Imoen and Valygar are on the trail of the Murderer, while Minsc and Korgan."
Dislexic: Don't forget Boo and Lilarcor.
Irenicus: Riiiiiight. While Minsc, Korgan, Boo, and Lilarcor sojourn to Rasheman, making a pit stop in Waterdeep along the way to stock up on Lays and Coke.
Dislexic: Just about, yeah.
Irenicus: And what of Kincaid and Viconia? What will they be doing in the meantime?
Dislexic: For the most part, having sex.
Irenicus: I see. Say is this rumor about you writing a lemon going to be a reality?
Dislexic: It might, though I'm not sure if my work can keep up with that of certain 14-year-old girls who just squeeze them out like nothing. So I just may never write a full-fledged lemon, but there will be lemon-juice in my fics.
Irenicus: Lemon-juice you say?
Dislexic: Yeah, it goes well with tea.
----------------------
Chapter 5
Conspiracy
Athkatla. Waukeen's Promenade. The Adventurer's Mart.
Valygar shifted nervously as Imoen went from one spell scroll to the next, occasionally handing one to him. Despite the fact that he was more at ease where magic was concerned, the ranger still had his misgivings and doubted he would ever truly become comfortable with the magical arts. In fact, these misgivings helped to shape Valygar's skills as a ranger. While Minsc had honed his combat prowess to a priority, Valygar focused on resisting the vile effects of magic and could now ward off even the deadliest of spells. Despite this fact, Valygar shifted nervously while accepting another scroll from the pink-haired mage.
"Ah! Genai Lunare." The mage exclaimed as she fished out another scroll and read the sigil that sealed it.
"What spell is that?" Valygar asked wearily.
Imoen shook her head. "Not a spell, a mage, this was made by her, it seems."
Valygar waited restlessly for an explanation, then prompted her when none was forthcoming. "And she is...?"
Imoen looked up and blinked. "Hm? Oh, Kincaid and I knew her from a tavern we used to frequent. The Red Dragon Inn." Imoen paused and her face clouded over with momentary sadness. "Unfortunately it burned down years ago... we had a few good memories there."
Imoen sighed, holding the scroll in her hands like a precious memento before adding it to Valygar's armful. "I think I'll have it as a keepsake."
Valygar eyed the scroll as a guard would a known thief. "What does it do?"
"Well, knowing Genai..." Imoen stopped herself in mid-sentence as she remembered who she was talking to and turned away from him, her cheeks flushed a color that matched her hair. "It... uhm... well... it's one of those spells."
Valygar didn't quite understand enough about magic to even begin to grasp what she was implying. He let it drop, though, muttering under his breath about foul magic and why he'd ever let Imoen talk him into going with her to do some spell shopping. Imoen continued on to another scroll. She held it up to the light in her slim, delicate hands, and then set it back down.
Valygar regarded the young woman quietly, almost longingly. Behind her seemingly frivoles, cheerful demeanor was an intelligent, methodical woman. His respect for her had always been a constant, though you would not think it would be, given her magical background. Many times she had been responsible for quelling a would-be disaster. Her and her magic, he reminded himself. Yes, the ranger could also fail to hide his appreciation for her taking time to teach him about the art. As she had told him, he indeed felt that the more he learned about magic's mysterious ways the less fear and loathing he felt towards it.
"Valygar? What are you thinking?" Imoen asked softly when she noticed he had spaced out.
"Arguing with myself..." He murmured.
"What?"
Valygar snapped awake and straightened his stance. "Huh? Oh, nothing..."
Imoen peered cautiously at the man, but said nothing. The pair presented their selection to Ribald Batterman, the proprietor of the Adventurer's mart. He greeted them with a smile and the usual 'How are things?' before getting down to business. Valygar stood by in amazement as Imoen gradually brought Ribald's prices down to but a fraction of what he originally asked. Despite this, the merchant never seemed upset at the loss to his profits. Imoen's disarmingly cheerful demeanor kept a smile on his face as she worked her way down to paying dirt-cheap prices for some of the best-quality spell scrolls in Athkatla.
Not that the anti-mage city had an abundance of those, mind.
"Look you, I've never gone below a thousand for scrolls of that level, but seeing as you're a regular customer and that you're buying so many I'll ask for... 985." Ribald was saying when Jaheira entered. The Half-elf looked even more troubled then ever, and it showed plainly on her face.
Imoen smiled cheerfully at the merchant and casually brushed some hair from her face, she was about to make a counter offer when Jaheira tugged on her arm. "What?"
"It's happened again. Twice more in the city and I've received word that two more bodies have been discovered in Trademeet-" The half-elf stopped herself, and eyed Ribald. The merchant raised his hands in the 'I want nothing to do with whatever it is' gesture and remembered he had something important to do on the other side of the store.
Valygar watched him go, then looked over his shoulder at Jaheira. "The same way?"
The druid shook her head. "One was hung, the other poisoned. In Trademeet the first body was beaten with a blunt object and the other was thrown off of the top of the Alibakkar estate. It does not make much sense. The only constant in this is the circle of tear-shaped blood drops around the bodies. If not for that, we would have thought them to be any other-"
"Murder." Imoen quietly finished for her. She looked up into her half-elven friends eyes and saw that she understood. Valygar too, nodded.
"All murdered... it doesn't matter how" He breathed, leaning against the desk that now held Imoen's choice of scrolls.
Jaheira was silent for several moments before adding. "That's not all. According to my sources-"
"You mean your Harper friends." Valygar gently put. It was more a way to remind her that she need not keep secrets from them then anything else.
Jaheira nodded. "Call then what you would. According to them, the Murder's where committed in twelve-hour intervals. First a homeless man in the Bridge district was hung at dusk two days ago. Then, a young boy was hurled from the top of the Alibakkar estate at dawn."
Valygar took a moment to digest this. "Trademeet is a full day's travel from here."
Jaheira nodded. "So you see what worries me. This is no single murderer, lest he be a quick one.
Imoen sighed and waved Ribald over. The merchant, who had been subtly watching them from the far side of the shop, obliged.
The young mage smiled pleasantly and gestured towards the small pile of scrolls. "Say, we have some important, world-saving business to attend to so... let's say 650 each and I'll tell any young aspiring adventurer I meet where I get my good stuff from, eh?"
This time, Ribald fidgeted somewhat, but with a little more coaxing from the attractive young woman he let go a final offer of 720 each, which Imoen gladly accepted.
******************
Somewhere on the road. It doesn't matter.
Korgan's hand occasionally strayed to the handle of his axe, a blade legend called the Frostreaver. The world held weapons of greater power, Korgan knew, but such weapons were often in the hands of those who would use them more. The dwarf found that, these days at least, a mug of ale would just as likely be in his hand as an axe handle. Idle indeed. Walking on the road had painfully reminded him everywhere from his heels to his buttocks what toll that idleness had taken on his body. Korgan simply endured this with typical dwarven stoicism, though, and said not a word.
Not that he was interested in conversing with his addle-minded companion in any case, mind.
Minsc, for his part, was simply overjoyed to be breathing in the fresh air again. And to be on his way to his homeland. And to be known as a hero the world over, or so he fondly hoped. Every now and then he'd start singing a song most eight-year-olds could better. Boo seemed appreciative of this. Korgan did not.
"For the last blasted time you belly-bladder for a bagpipe," The dwarf roared when Minsc was in the third stanza of Evil cannot run from a hamster. "Shut yer hole else me axe may cut it off."
Minsc looked somewhat startled, then confused. "Err... Boo wants to know, how you cut off a hole?"
Korgan stopped and furrowed his brow. ".... It can happen."
The ranger was easily sidetracked, however, and started running off, yelling, "Ohh, squirrels! I know I saw them. Quick Boo! Throw nuts!"
"Damn ye." The dwarf huffed as he tried to keep up. By the time he reaches Minsc at the forest line, the ranger and his hamster were both kneeling and tossing small nuts this way and that. Korgan frowned at them and grumbled irritably under his breath. Minsc looked up at his arrival and smiled.
"Come on! Help us feed the squirrels." The ranger called out happily. "Boo says it will take your mind off of what makes your blood pressure go so high. Though I know not what this 'blood pressure' means."
Korgan favored the ranger with an incredulous look. "Ye mean you want me to throw nuts at these durned rats?" He demanded doubtfully.
Minsc nodded and tossed another handful into the trees. A few squirrels made an appearance and quickly snatched them up, stuffing the nuts into their cheeks until tripling the width of their heads. As one scampered up a tree, Korgan grabbed a fair-sized nut and threw it. The small missile hit its mark and the small rodent fell off the tree, letting go of its cache of nuts as it fell.
Korgan crossed his arms over his chest triumphantly while Minsc gave him a withering look. "When you're right, you're right."
With that, the dwarf scooped up a handful of nuts and pelted one squirrel after another. Boo scurried into the safety of Minsc's food pouch.
"You don't need to force-feed them, friend." Minsc started. "Squirrels are able to feed themselves, though Boo says you have nice distance."
"Twenty-one... twenty-two... twenty-three." Korgan counted under his breath hurling nuts one after another. Another squeaking sound and the occasional falling body rewarded each throw. "Nonsense Minsc, we need to feed the things, right?"
Another squeak, another squirrel fell.
******************
The Planer Sphere. The Afterglow.
Viconia let out a long, well-satisfied sigh of content and stretched like a cat. The dim candlelight played on her bare, ebony skin. The sweat that covered her body, a testament to the excursion she had happily put herself through moments before, glistened like tiny diamonds all over her nude body. Her well-toned muscles flexed under that lust-inspiring skin. For a moment, she looked like the obsidian sculpture of a goddess.
Kincaid kneeled over her body, one knee on either side of her waist, watching her stretch. When most women raised their arms over their heads like that their breasts would flatten and disappear. Not Viconia's. Her's were full and perfect and, like every other part of her body, Kincaid found that he could stare at them for hours.
A lustful smile curved the drow's lips as she laced her fingers behind her head. "You're welcome to do more then look, Lover."
Kincaid responded his a wicked smile of his own. "Don't tempt me; we may never leave this bed."
Viconia waited expectantly before saying, "And your point is..."
The human threw his head back and sighed through his widening grin. He looked down to see Viconia staring at him. "I seem to remember your telling me that I was the only woman you'd ever been with..." She remarked quietly.
Kincaid nodded slowly.
"Then..." The elf continued, "Where exactly did you learn that?"
Kincaid smiled innocently, "Learn what?"
"You know what I'm talking about. That thing you did earlier." She nudged him with one shapely thigh.
The human smiled and licked his lips suggestively. "Oh... that. You liked that didn't you?"
The Drow's smile was more then enough of an answer.
He lowered himself on to her, planting small kisses on her still sweaty neck. "Would you believe 'From a book'"?
"I'm afraid not. I believe a woman taught that to you." She murmured, softly in her lover's ear as he worked his way up her neck. One slender, black hand crawled up and down his muscular back.
"Would I lie to you? I honestly learned it from a book in Candlekeep." Kincaid traced the outline of her ear with his tongue. Elves were sensitive to such attention, and Viconia was no exception. The elf let out a little gasp and shuddered in response. "It was a book brought over from Kara-Tur, I recall... The Karma Satara.... no, The Coma Surtra.... You know... one of those odd names."
Just then a glowing disk appeared not far from the two entwined lovers. Magical fire danced around the disk's edge as his formed a smooth, shiny, glasslike surface. A cloudy image slowly took focus into the face of a young woman with reddish-pink hair.
"Kincaid! Viconia! Are you ther-" The face in the disk stopped in mid-sentence. "Oh... I take it this is a bad time..."
Kincaid looked over his shoulder. "Hm? Oh, hi Imoen." He looked apologetically to a disappointed Viconia. The drow moaned and reached for her robe that was lying on the floor. Kincaid, however, put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. In response, his cutoff leggings stood up and walked over to him.
"So," The wizard started to say as he pulled them on. "To what do I owe the honor of this sending?"
Imoen, who had been covering her eyes (though she peeked through them every now and then), said, "Look, I know you don't want to hear this but... there's a problem. People are being murdered and the symbol of Bhaal is left around their bodies. Ok, there. I said it."
Kincaid groaned and dropped his head to his hands. "You were right. I didn't want to hear that."
Viconia got into a more comfortable sitting position beside Kincaid. "What good does it do to tell us? We are thousands of miles away, and we're not about to get this thing working again just so we can rush headlong into another misadventure." She looked to Kincaid for support. "Right?"
The human nodded and turned to the disk. "She's right. If worse comes to worse, I can get this sphere moving again but it's not nearly as easy as you might think."
"That's not why I contacted you." Imoen replied. "Jaheira told me that-"
"Imoen, you can uncover your eyes now. It's rather unsettling to be talking to you while you look like that." Viconia pointed out dryly.
"Oh, right." the mage continued. "Jaheira said that she had been informed, through her Harper sources, that these murder's are happening elsewhere. They seem to be coordinated. I hope it's just here in Amn but..." The young woman went silent for a moment. Her face darkened. Despite all they had been through, she still did not like to see, hear about, or have anything to do with murder and death. Kincaid could easily understand that. "Well... I just hope its only happening here."
Kincaid nodded. A smile came to his lips as he remembered a quote. "Whenever I think I can relax someone hastens to brutally point out to me that I've fresh work to do. It's time to save the world again."
Imoen smiled. "From Storm Silverhand?"
Kincaid nodded. "It would seem that I can claim those words for myself, as well." He then turned to explain the quote for the benefit of his drow lover, who carelessly shrugged. When his gaze returned to Imoen's sending, he saw a wistful look on her face. "What is it?"
Imoen bit her lip. "Things are going well for you, aren't they?"
Kincaid smiled and brushed away and errant lock of hair. "I'm greatly enjoying my vacation time, yes."
Viconia wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders and leveled a cool look at Imoen. "Actually, we're greatly enjoying each other, or were, I might add. A certain sending appeared in our bedchambers and caused an interruption. Were this the underdark, such an action would warrant death, brutal and immediate. I would know."
Imoen lowered her gaze. "Uh, yeah... really sorry about that."
Kincaid sighed and shook his head at the ever-neutral ceiling. "Things are not going as well for you?" He asked quickly.
"Well... yes, I suppose. Things are great, aside from the murders and the odd stares people send my way and the... " Her voice trailed off.
Kincaid nodded. "Imoen... Valygar is one of those strong-and-silent walking monolith types. Honor is his creed. You need to be more assertive, methinks." He flashed her a cheerful smile, encouraging her to do likewise. "You'll be fine."
The face in the disk nodded once, then faded. The disk followed soon thereafter.
For a while, the two sat in the darkness silently. Viconia rested her head in her lover's shoulder and he reached up to gently stroke her silky white hair. "You're not happy about this." He noted quietly.
"You've pointed out what's already painfully obvious, good for you." The elf murmured.
"I'm good at that, aren't I?" The man replied easily. "Why, just the other day I made the discovery that the sky was blue. This being a thing of historic importance, I decided to write it down."
Viconia smirked despite herself. "And here I was thinking it was black."
Kincaid looked thoughtful. "Well... it's been known to change colors."
"I just don't get it." She sighed as she let herself fall back on to the bed. "If some knife-happy murderers weed out the weak, those who let themselves be killed, why should you care?"
Kincaid half-smiled. "You have a point. If it were some knife-happy murderer, I would care not. But anything that has to do with Bhaal will eventually come back to me, I've learned." He took one of her slender black hands and held it against his face meaningfully. A simple gesture, perhaps, but far more powerful then words between the two. "I'd rather confront it, and hope for the best."
The drow resigned herself to her fate, shaking her head as she watched the road ahead take a rockier path. She had been serious when she brought up the idea of a quiet, peaceful place to live that day in the forests north of Umar Hills. The surface was indeed a hostile place for any drow to make herself at home. With Kincaid by her side, it seemed a better place to be. No other human, no other surfacer had offered as much as he without demanding anything in return. Most surface dwellers took one look at her dark skin and reached for the nearest bladed object.
The dark elf reflected on their lives together. Once, after all his kindness and understanding, she had felt unworthy of him. Him! A male! And a human male at that. She had tried to push him away, first with deceit then with a full-blown argument, but he would have none of it. He had saved her life more then once, more then twice, and had the capacity to bring himself to fall in love with an outcast drow. They had argued, true, and insults had often gone both ways, but in the end he had defeated her. Viconia could not succeed in pushing him away. Further more, she no longer wanted to. His patience and understanding won in the end, and Viconia knew that if to follow him were to walk into death, she would go quietly.
"I'll come with you." She whispered quietly.
Kincaid nodded. "Tomorrow we'll check Tentowns and see if there's been any murders there. Then we'll head south."
Viconia absorbed this quietly then looked up to meet his intense blue eyes. "But not until tomorrow." She said suggestively. Her hand snaked around to get a grip on her lover's hair and pulled him down. Kincaid was only too eager to comply.
---------------------
I've had less tea this time, and for that I apologize. Though in recompense, I've eaten plenty of eggs. I know some of you may think that my updates are long in coming... well, you're wrong. They take days because they're long, and I have work, sleep, workouts, and sleepouts. Furthermore, I have less tea. You know... I hit overtime last night, so they might give me tomorrow off. Not that any off this means anything to you. Sometimes I wonder about the whole lemon deal.
Why lemons? Why not peaches? What? Are peaches too obvious?
"Why yes, I just ate myself a peach and had a glass of lemonade." I suppose it's nothing. Everytime I change to a new environment, though, I must adapt to the new protocol. But still, have you tried to eat a lemon? It makes your face go like THIS! Look at me; my cheeks are all sucked in and... Well... it's the lemon-face deal. Eat a peach and you look like THIS! See? I'm smiling! I have that fresh-peach-taste-in-my-mouth smiley face on. And don't even get me started on cherries. That taste is just... mph! Oh yeah!
But I guess cherries are too obvious also. So we write lemons, rather then any other type of fruit.
"How do you like them apples?"
There's another one. Apples. Red and ripe, you could just bit right into them and let the flavor flow. And for you ladies, we have bananas! I remember this watermelon I had once, I couldn't finish it by myself because it was too big.
Now before I pass out (The pill's wearing off) I'd like to thank you for your time. Those of you who read, please review (One in ten will actually do so, I know). Also, I hope those of you who like to smell lemons enjoy to mild lemon-scent I add to my chapters.
Lemon-scent is where you can smell a lemon... but you never actually see one......