Claimer: Seeing as these fanfics could never really be traced back to me,
I've decided to claim everything. Oh yeah! I OWN Balduar's Gate 2! I
reserve all rights! I own Minsc, Viconia, Imoen, and all the others. They
are mine! I claim them! And if I'm wrong and this does come back to me...
I hope my friends and Black Isle and Wizards of the Coast have a healthy
sense of humor.
Dislexic: Another long night, another meager clock out slip. Greetings there, avid readers of the life of Jered Kincaid. I am, as always, your humble author Dislexic, the tea drinker. Here with me tonight is my co- host or, if you prefer, split personality, Jon Irenicus. Jon, it's great to have you here.
Irenicus: And it's good to be here, though I fail to see why you've waited this long to introduce me. In any case, the first question for tonight is likely burning in the minds of nearly every reader; Will Drizzt and his companions make an appearance now that Kincaid and Viconia are in the area of Tentowns?
Dislexic: Uh... I may be a pretty good author, but I'm not God! Do you have any idea how hard it is to even do characters like Korgan and Viconia justice? I could never aptly write even a passage about one of Salvatore's characters!
Irenicus: So you don't exactly have to confidence necessary for such an undertaking?
Dislexic: No, and rightly no. Robert Salvatore is a best-selling author. People have fallen in love with his characters because of how well he has worked them up. They have gotten to the point where no author, himself excluded, could give those characters the justice they are due. I'd rather not risk it just yet. However, I can say that Drizzt will make an appearance at some point.
Irenicus: But is that not what you are trying to do with your own Character?
Dislexic: It is indeed what I am attempting. Though it is not an easy thing. You see, Kincaid is very unusual, thus being a problem in itself because it would be more difficult for people to identify with someone so strange.
Irenicus: Perhaps not so hard. Kincaid comes from the Forgotten Realms, and everyone who reads these fanfics is familiar with such a setting.
Dislexic: That too is my hope.
Irenicus: My next question is also on the minds of your readers. Why the long wait?
Dislexic: Well, you see there are various factors that must be understood. Such as working overtime, working out, and sleeping much. I get less time to write this story then I used to. I hope all of you readers understand that I am not quitting my authoring here, just slowing down somewhat. Take heart.
Chapter 7
Trail of death
Icewind Dale. Bryn Shander.
The cold, ever-biting wind that had accompanied the pair ever since their departure from the Planer Sphere lessened when they approached the walled city of Bryn Shander. Alturiak was one of the coldest months of the year, and the denizens of this northbound city all dressed as such. The guards looked more like walking suits of armor with clothing spilling out of the places their splint mail did not cover. Yet the newcomers were not so well- insulated. One was well-covered, alright. nothing of her skin or face could be seen behind the darkness of her cloak, only her feminine figure could be seen. Still, the silky texture of the fabric she wore bespoke more of comfort then heat. Every now and then, her eyes glowed under the hood of her cowl, making the guards shift nervously.
Her companion, however, was even more of an oddity, Dressed only in a loosely-fitting robe of no meager enchantment, silken leggings and a waistcoat to match, the tall, dark blue-haired man looked as though he should already be just another windblown obstacle in the road. Yet he was not. he did not even appear to be bothered by the intense cold. One of the two, Bregon by name, could tell well enough that this one had to be either a mage, or insane. Likely though, he thought, it was both.
"Greetings to you, good men. My companion and I wish to gain entry to this fine city of yours. We have business to attend to." Kincaid called out once close enough to be well-heard. His non-chalant manner only made the two men more suspicious.
"Your greeting is accepted, but I am wondering what sort of person travels Icewind Dale in the middle of Alturiak wearing such sleepwear?" Bregon responded as diplomatically as he could. Opposite from him, the other guard clutched his halberd nervously at the pair.
Undaunted, Kincaid stretched and flexed his back as if he were just waking up. A scant hour from dawn, it would be a thing most normal people would not yet be doing. The mage turned a friendly smile on the pair. "Oh, it's really not all that bad. I rather enjoy such refreshing weather, you should too. I imagine all that restrictive armor and those scarfs prevent you from fully enjoying this delicious air."
Bregon gawked momentarily, then turned and gave his companion a look. Kellgorn nodded his agreement. The man's brain had obviously frozen.
The guard approached the newcomers cautiously, holding his weapon ready and his muscles tense as he examined the two. Both patiently stood like statues. First, Bregon examined the human male closely, as if fearing he were a shapeshifter waiting for the right moment to devour him. Satisfied that he was not, the guard turned his attention to the man's companion, who politely obliged him by flicking back her hood with a slender, gloved hand. Bregon gasped in both astonishment and awe, taking several steps back until he was once again at his post.
"Wha-what business do you have in Bryn Shander?" The guard stammered when he found his voice again.
"Our business is with Mertallo, if you don't mind." Kincaid returned briskly.
The two guards exchanged nervous glances/
"That crazy mage..." Bregon's younger companion muttered under his breath. The older guard shot a warning look his way, but Kincaid only smiled.
"You've met him?" He asked.
"No, not I." The guard replied. "But we all know of him. A traveling mage... he... brought his tower with him."
Kincaid chuckled. "Yes, that would be him. Now, good sirs, if you would be so kind..."
Both men nodded hastily and gave the signal for the massive gates to be opened. The two nodded their thanks at the guards and, before long, were out of their sight, traveling down the well-used inner roads of the city.
The younger guard whistled. "Was that not a sight to see?"
Bregon nodded and slumped against the city wall, staring at the sky. "In all my years, lad, never have I seen a moon elf more beautiful."
******************
Kincaid pleasantly slipped an arm around the waist of his lover, who responded in kind, and leaned against him as they walked. They drew many stares, both of them, and for many reasons. Occasionally, the wind would pick up about Viconia's cowl enough to reveal her beautiful visage. More then one young pair of male eyes found themselves unable to look away after such a sight. This she found more uncomfortable then she would like to admit. Walking in the open as such could not be further from what she was used to doing. Still, the elf took much comfort in having her consort in arm.
Kincaid gave her waist a little squeeze and whispered in her ear. "On the bright side, these are looks of astonishment, awe and more then a little jealousy. Not of hate."
The dark maiden sniffed. "If the world were fair, it would always be as such. No illusion on your part would be needed for that."
He smiled wryly, then noted. "If the world were fair, my ssinssrig, everyone would be as beautiful as you, and you would not be seen as such a rarity."
Viconia lifted her head from his shoulder and blinked. "Words of a poet... and unusual for you to see the bright side of things. Perhaps I am not the only one who has changed."
The mage paused and raised an eyebrow. "We have the rest of our lives to spend together, I think it's about time I took an optimistic approach." He looked around at the assembled crowd of passerbys who had stopped to gape. Gently, he lifted the hood away from the face of his lover and bent to kiss her full on the lips as if they were all alone. As if sixty-odd 'normal' people weren't standing by with their eyes as wide open as their mouths.
Viconia moaned and shifted comfortably, smiling as the kiss ended and the two resumed their trek. This time, the jealous looks people gave were more fixed on Kincaid, rather then his gorgeous companion.
"So tell me about this Mertallo, friend of yours." The elf asked only loud enough for her man to hear. "I remember you mentioning him on the way here."
"A traveling mage... a bit on the eccentric side. I met him while I was still training as a Sword Saint in Candlekeep. In fact, I've met many people there who may be able to help us these days." The mage looked around, then pointed to a tall structure not far away. It was not something easily missed. It's architecture, coloring, everything about it was completely out of place in the squalid northern city. "That would be his Tower. It's enspelled so that he can shrink it and carry it with him. Rather convenient, that. Anyway, he once bespoke of his wish to study the frozen north and the strange creatures that live here."
"You mean these peasants." Viconia said dryly, and none too quietly.
Kincaid smirked. "Funny. But he is oddly social, for a mage, and would not make even a temporary home outside of some sort of relative civilization."
As the two entered the small lot of land the odd tower stood upon, they were greeted by a guardian golem. The silent giant bowed once to Kincaid and led the way into the tower. The mage obliged and followed with Viconia somewhat wary by his side.
The inside of the tower was larger then the outside would imply. Scattered throughout the room where a number of vials and flasks, some opened, some not, books stacked as high as a man, sheets of paper covering nearly every bare surface and a caravan-load of miscellaneous spell components. The walls were painted in random, swirling patterns of colors that shifted depending on what angle you viewed them by. These patterns where broken here and there by the occasional artwork, either painted on to or hanging on the wall. On the ceiling flew many firefly-like balls of magical light that served as the light-source for the room.
To Viconia, who could innately sense magical energies as well as any mage, the tower was a stark contrast to what she had just walked through. She was careful to only walk where Kincaid walked and did so warily. To her sight, as it was with Kincaid, everything bore an aura of blue-ish energy. The tables, couches, paintings, walls, even the floor shared that telltale glow that bespoke of some magical property.
"Who dares walk in the home of Mertallo the Great?" Spoke a great booming voice that seemed to come from all sides.
Viconia frowned and crossed his arms. "Your friend thinks highly of himself." She whispered.
Kincaid grinned and spread his arms. "It is I! Jered Kincaid the Greater! I do so dare walk into the home of Mertallo the not-worth- mentioning." This brought a frustrated grumble and a man who's age Viconia could not guess from a doorway on the far side. Mertallo was not much shorter then Kincaid's six-and-a-half feet, though he was noticeably thinner, his skin hung somewhat loosely in comparison and his once-dark hair was well on it's way to becoming as white as his pale skin. Only his eyes, crystalline blue like Kincaid's, remained unchanged by time or the stress of working magic. Despite his somewhat aged appearance, Mertallo carried himself well, standing straight and walking with the measured, balanced steps of an adventurer who had seen more then his share of battles. His hands he kept behind his back where, Viconia guessed, several wands would be in easy reach. Overall, Mertallo's imposing, formidable image was far from that of the craggily, old, hunchback mage Viconia had thought he was, as was the case with most human mages. "It has been some time, old friend." Kincaid continued. "Do you forget the students from your younger days? Or is age catching up to your head, rather then your heels?"
Mertallo favored him with a derisive sniff and threw his arms in the air. "No respect. Nothing's changed, save your choice of company." The man peered at the dark elf momentarily, then looked to Kincaid as if awaiting an explanation. He received none. "Hmph. So, I take it you are concerned with the sudden Bhaal-related deaths and such?"
Kincaid nodded, not at all surprised, though Viconia took a step forward. "How did you know?"
Mertallo waved a hand. "People show up dead in little Bhaal-ish designs, Spheres pop up in the mountains and before long you see Yeti skin being made into fashionable hand-ware. It doesn't take a genius to make the connection, your man was obviously involved."
Kincaid made a small bow at the waist. "Too kind."
The older mage favored him with a cynical smile. "Yes, I am, aren't I? So, will you be bringing mayhem and thunderous destruction to this place as well?"
The younger mage sighed and turned his gaze skyward, letting the gesture be his reply. Mertallo had meant well, despite his attitude, but Kincaid found himself wondering how many times more would he have to hear such words. To any person, the presence of Jered Kincaid seemed synonymous with death and destruction. Sadly enough, they did so rightly, Kincaid thought.
Mertallo would not suffer the silence long, and huffed, "Well, don't simply stand there, take a seat. Let's get started." Looking around, Viconia saw every suitable surface already occupied with various papers, spell components, bodily organs (Some still working, despite having no body), flasks, bottles, boxes, rune stones and many other devices that could not be adequately described. Looking back to Mertallo, she found him indeed sitting, on nothing. Kincaid did likewise, that smiled propped his feet upon a footrest that was not there while reclining comfortably.
"Show off" Mertallo huffed.
***************
Amkathran. Eastern Cliffside.
"Fourteen..." Valygar whispered for the sixth time under his breath as though he could not believe it. Fourteen people out of Amkathran's already dwindling population had been slaughtered in the same manner as those in Athkatla. The news had reached them even before they had entered what was left of the city in the form of several fleeing citizens. Now the two, Valygar and Imoen, both stood and watched the sunset from the cliff on the east side. Predictably enough, the city below was intensely silent. Only a few brave peasants dared walk about, and even then they did so quickly.
Imoen sighed and leaned against him, resting her head on one broad shoulder. "We have to end it. All this death.... it's just too much."
Valygar put an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving her a measure of reassurance he did not feel. "They cannot hide forever. Things like this, murder to this degree... they will be found soon." He said.
"How soon?" Imoen breathed. "And how many more will fall before they are?"
"That I cannot answer. The only thing I can say is that I will fight by your side against any foe, for the good of Fearun."
A catlike smile curved Imoen's lips. "Wow.... Valygar the Paladin."
The ranger gave her a severe look. "What?"
The mage smiled up into his dark, serious visage. "Well listen to you. For the good of Fearun.... words I'd expect to hear from Minsc or Keldorn."
Valygar rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll just shut up then-"
Imoen touched his cheek, halting his words and forcing him to meet her gaze. "You know, you're very cute when you're frustrated."
Valygar choked. "Cute?"
Imoen chuckled and pulled the tall man down for a kiss as the last of the sun's rays warmed them. The stoic ranger almost protested before his presence of mind rightly took over and he drew the young mage into a warm hug as their lips met. He wondered, briefly if she used magic to keep her hair smelling like sweet cinnamon and her body fresh and clean. If she was, then it served as another attack on the ranger's wilting hatred for the art. An attack he wholeheartedly welcomed.
A piercing scream in the night broke the silence and their kiss as harshly as a fireball would break the darkness of an underdark cavern.
The pair looked down to see a shadowy figure standing over a dead body. Blood dripped from it's arm in a circular pattern around that body, completing the Symbol of Bhaal. Neither Imoen nor Valygar stopped to ask questions, but both darted for the way down like two lions in chase of prey. Not bothering to use the ladders, they jumped from the cliff to the rooftop of the uppermost building, then to the rooftop of the next with barely a pause. Covering the distance to the last rooftop within a heartbeat, the pair jumped from there to the ground, landing heavily but unharmed.
Coming up, Imoen searched as best she could, but could see no one. The dead body of the sacrificed peasant lay not far away, still warm.
"No." Imoen hissed in protest. "Whoever it was, he will not get away."
Valygar's eyes closed as he summoned up his innate powers of tracking. He, like Imoen, had no mind to leave the murderer free to kill more people. Not, at least, without answers. Opening his eyes he saw things in a fresh, new light. Recent footfalls, scents in the air and other signs of their quarry stood out clearly in the twilight. The ranger then turned his attention to the west, to the desert and were the signs seemed fresher.
"He's fast and elusive." Valygar said somberly. "But we haven't lost him yet."
A cheery smile found a hold on the young woman's face and she immediately went about casting a spell that would speed the both of them. With a flamboyant flourish, she waved her hands and the both of them ran much faster then any human should be able to. Several times they stopped and Valygar would glance around, taking note of the shifts in the sand and the scents in the wind before sprinting off again. Their quarry was not only fleet of foot, but clever as well. Doubling back and circling around at some points he was able to confuse the pair without being seen.
At length, however Valygar caught up to him, Imoen in tow. As the ranger closed the distance between them, the assassin drew a well-crafted longsword and entered a defensive stance. Valygar responded in kind, baring his own Katanas. Malakar and the Corthalla Family blade gleamed in the dimming twilight of the desert sky. Darkness was quickly taking it's place and Valygar doubted he could track and pursue this quarry in the night should he again take flight. Best to end it quickly.
As the assassin and Ranger squared off, Imoen raised her bow (The Taugin short bow) and readied and arrow, calling out. "Who are you?"
The assassin made no reply. the mage decided to prompt him to answer and let loose an arrow. Though the projectile was magically enchanted to better hit it's mark, Imoen was surprised that it never did. The assassin snapped like a whip as the arrow sped near and narrowly avoided it.
The acrobatic feat nearly cost him his life. Valygar was a master swordsman, some would say that he could fight blow for blow against Drizzt (Though for the two goodly rangers to ever fight in earnest would be highly unlikely, leaving the people's speculations to just that) and easily took advantage of any opportunity to land a blow. Stepping forward and pivoting his weight on to his left foot he lunged with both swords, cutting a diagonal angle through the air.
Showing a great amount of agility, and more then a little luck, the assassin dove backwards the moment he saw Valygar's forward movement, even unbalanced as he was. He did not pause, however, and came up fast, quickly going offensive with a series of well-angled lunges and slashes meant to drive an opponent back, if not kill him immediately. His surprise only doubled, however, as the Ranger remained stationary and parried every last strike. His left-handed weapon, Malakar, moved almost of it's own accord to turn aside the assassin's blade. Valygar then stepped in with his other Katana going high in a horizontal slice. The assassin was forced to duck the blow, forced to parry Malakar's subsequent thrust and forced to accept the clean gash Valygar's Corthalla family blade scored across his upper thigh as he retreated.
The assassin paused to examine the wound. Not a deep cut, but one that bled profusely nonetheless. The man quickly took stock of his situation. The man he faced was easily his superior in combat. He was smart enough to recognize exceptional skill when he saw it. The girl was adept with the use of a bow and, as he then noticed the wands tucked into her belt his hope sank as he realized that she was a mage as well. A mage who had simply chosen not to cast her spells... yet.
Valygar advanced on his bleeding target and Imoen notched another arrow. The assassin was quicker. Driving his sword blade-first into the sand he unsheathed another, this one a short blade made of obsidian. Reversing the motion as soon as he had the sword drawn, the man plunged the blade into his own heart. Valygar stood by in shock, but Imoen rushed to the dying man's side.
"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" The young mage demanded.
The assassin only fell heavily on his back, spitting out one word as he did. "....Murder..."
*********************
Amkathra. The inn.
The ranger and mage had the small inn all to themselves, though they did not greatly exploit that fact. The innkeeper had been among those frightened citizens to flee from the doomed city. On his way out, he had carelessly forgotten to bring along his near-bottomless supply of Elverquisst, Evermead, Zzar, Firewine and several other drinks of varying potency. Imoen and Valygar helped themselves, mixing this with that and experimenting as they tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed. Valygar nursed his drink slowly, however. Partly because he wanted to keep his senses about him and partly because he still could not fully remember what happened the last time he got drunk.
"And what about this one?" Valygar asked as he held the finely-crafted assassin's long sword in his hands. The blade was one of the most exquisite swords he had seen, as far as modern blades go. It was perfectly balanced and well-adorned. If not for it's keen edge the ranger would have guessed it had been made for display purposes.
"It's an Amcathran blade." The young mage supplied. "Crafted in Waterdeep, Amcathran blades are among the best, if the best of all human- made swords. Some say they are on par with elven blades. This one is lightly enchanted, though nothing big. Just a few minor protections and such. A dweamor to increase one's combat odds as well."
"Then why do you look so worried?" The ranger inquired.
Imoen looked from the blade to her companion thoughtfully. "Because that likely means that these are mass-produced. If the sword were more powerful, I would think it unique."
Valygar nodded and drummed the table with his fingers. Defeating the assassin had been an easy feat, but the ranger did not think that others would fare so well. Not against a possible army of elusive assassins wielding enchanted weapons. Valygar and Imoen could likely handle themselves well against them, but the world was filled with people who are not Valygar and Imoen. "Tell me more about the Amcathran clan." The ranger murmured. "I know they are a family of nobles home to Waterdeep, though my own family was not acquainted with them."
Imoen shrugged. "There's not much more to them then that, that I know of, at least. They are a noble family of merchants that trade in exotic perfumes, spices, fabrics as well as their own trademark swords. They are close in business relations to the Thann and Callysandar families, I recall."
Valygar frowned as he examined the long sword again. "A family of merchants..." He echoed softly. "Imoen, do they not have a powerful wizard in their services?"
"No..." The young woman replied. "Though noble families routinely hire mages for whatever services they require."
"Still, to hire a mage would be very expensive. They would not make much of a profit from selling enchanted weapons by the armful if they had to turn around and give coin to the enchanter." Valygar pressed.
Imoen drained her decanter and sighed. "Of course they don't sell the blades enchanted. There is no war going on, and scarce few adventurers are rich enough to buy magical blades, many have suitable weapons already. They sell their swords as that are so-"
"The assassins perform the enchantment themselves." Valygar finished.
Imoen nodded and leaned back in her chair. "So they have the use of magic with them too."
Valygar was far from happy with that revelation.
Suddenly, Imoen looked up. "We go to Waterdeep with haste come morning. We need to contact the Amcathran clan and find out if our theory is sound. If it is, then they would have the names of whoever has been buying these here swords by the bundle." Then, Imoen gave the ranger a rather tipsy smile. "See? I'm suppose to be the smart one."
"You are." Valygar pointed out. "It's you're idea, I just had to say if, plan it and direct you to it for you. After all of these simple tasks, I let you do the hard part."
Imoen laughed and kicked him playfully under the table. "That had better the Firewine talking."
Valygar laughed. "It is." He waved a hand at the mage's empty decanter. "You're the one drinking it, though."
---------------------------------
That sudden thud on the floor you may hear would be my unconscious body. You know how it is... I hope. How many of you put in more then 40 hours a week at a job were the stress level would make an air traffic controller's duties seem like playing golf. Not to say that I play golf myself, I think it's such an old retired man's sport. I'm not that old and decrepit, yet. Soon, though. In any case, I've been so very busy lately. It doesn't matter if I have a day off, I know they'll call me in (there's only two other people on my shift, and both are pregnant. The pregnancy is not my fault). You can imagine how much time I get between work, sleep, and my lazy (though shapely) ass not wanting to sit here and think up another chapter to my slowly progressing story.
Enough about me, though. More about you! How are you? Have you hugged your pixels today? How many of you have played and beaten Balduar's Gate 2 more then three times with five different character's? I have. Sad, huh? It gets worse. One day I was mining my own business and a friend told me something about looking for items in the override folder... then there I was... poking around here and there when I started doing stuff... Hey, it just happened. I opened up the override folder and started looking through the files in WordPad. Within hours I was re-writing the ex tables, writing down what little tags like AP_SPCL441 stand for and altering everything that ended with .2DA
Does everybody do this or is it just me?
Irenicus: Whoa, let me get this straight. You went into the game with WordPad... and changed it?
Dislexic: Yeah... doesn't everybody?
Irenicus: .......
So, in any case, I think I'll keep the max level at 45 for now, I'll soon be remaking my player character to be level 40kensai/45 mage (oh yeah!) Mages now have the ability to use Lay On Hands, memorize 12 spells per level at level 45, the Inquisitor's dispel magic and true sight and... well, the list goes on. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not really cheating (Enemies are effected too) I'm simply making it a little more fair and rewarding for gaining that huge amount of xp required. Like giving mages magic resistance. I mean, c'mon! they work with the stuff as a job for shit! A monk gets resistance, but a mage? Hell no! Well, that's different now!
Irenicus: But... how did you do that, seeing as mages don't have a 2DA file?
Dislexic: Oh... I made one.
Irenicus: You... made one?
Dislexic:... uh-huh.
Irenicus:................................................................ Exactly how much tea have you been drinking?!?!?
Dislexic: Another long night, another meager clock out slip. Greetings there, avid readers of the life of Jered Kincaid. I am, as always, your humble author Dislexic, the tea drinker. Here with me tonight is my co- host or, if you prefer, split personality, Jon Irenicus. Jon, it's great to have you here.
Irenicus: And it's good to be here, though I fail to see why you've waited this long to introduce me. In any case, the first question for tonight is likely burning in the minds of nearly every reader; Will Drizzt and his companions make an appearance now that Kincaid and Viconia are in the area of Tentowns?
Dislexic: Uh... I may be a pretty good author, but I'm not God! Do you have any idea how hard it is to even do characters like Korgan and Viconia justice? I could never aptly write even a passage about one of Salvatore's characters!
Irenicus: So you don't exactly have to confidence necessary for such an undertaking?
Dislexic: No, and rightly no. Robert Salvatore is a best-selling author. People have fallen in love with his characters because of how well he has worked them up. They have gotten to the point where no author, himself excluded, could give those characters the justice they are due. I'd rather not risk it just yet. However, I can say that Drizzt will make an appearance at some point.
Irenicus: But is that not what you are trying to do with your own Character?
Dislexic: It is indeed what I am attempting. Though it is not an easy thing. You see, Kincaid is very unusual, thus being a problem in itself because it would be more difficult for people to identify with someone so strange.
Irenicus: Perhaps not so hard. Kincaid comes from the Forgotten Realms, and everyone who reads these fanfics is familiar with such a setting.
Dislexic: That too is my hope.
Irenicus: My next question is also on the minds of your readers. Why the long wait?
Dislexic: Well, you see there are various factors that must be understood. Such as working overtime, working out, and sleeping much. I get less time to write this story then I used to. I hope all of you readers understand that I am not quitting my authoring here, just slowing down somewhat. Take heart.
Chapter 7
Trail of death
Icewind Dale. Bryn Shander.
The cold, ever-biting wind that had accompanied the pair ever since their departure from the Planer Sphere lessened when they approached the walled city of Bryn Shander. Alturiak was one of the coldest months of the year, and the denizens of this northbound city all dressed as such. The guards looked more like walking suits of armor with clothing spilling out of the places their splint mail did not cover. Yet the newcomers were not so well- insulated. One was well-covered, alright. nothing of her skin or face could be seen behind the darkness of her cloak, only her feminine figure could be seen. Still, the silky texture of the fabric she wore bespoke more of comfort then heat. Every now and then, her eyes glowed under the hood of her cowl, making the guards shift nervously.
Her companion, however, was even more of an oddity, Dressed only in a loosely-fitting robe of no meager enchantment, silken leggings and a waistcoat to match, the tall, dark blue-haired man looked as though he should already be just another windblown obstacle in the road. Yet he was not. he did not even appear to be bothered by the intense cold. One of the two, Bregon by name, could tell well enough that this one had to be either a mage, or insane. Likely though, he thought, it was both.
"Greetings to you, good men. My companion and I wish to gain entry to this fine city of yours. We have business to attend to." Kincaid called out once close enough to be well-heard. His non-chalant manner only made the two men more suspicious.
"Your greeting is accepted, but I am wondering what sort of person travels Icewind Dale in the middle of Alturiak wearing such sleepwear?" Bregon responded as diplomatically as he could. Opposite from him, the other guard clutched his halberd nervously at the pair.
Undaunted, Kincaid stretched and flexed his back as if he were just waking up. A scant hour from dawn, it would be a thing most normal people would not yet be doing. The mage turned a friendly smile on the pair. "Oh, it's really not all that bad. I rather enjoy such refreshing weather, you should too. I imagine all that restrictive armor and those scarfs prevent you from fully enjoying this delicious air."
Bregon gawked momentarily, then turned and gave his companion a look. Kellgorn nodded his agreement. The man's brain had obviously frozen.
The guard approached the newcomers cautiously, holding his weapon ready and his muscles tense as he examined the two. Both patiently stood like statues. First, Bregon examined the human male closely, as if fearing he were a shapeshifter waiting for the right moment to devour him. Satisfied that he was not, the guard turned his attention to the man's companion, who politely obliged him by flicking back her hood with a slender, gloved hand. Bregon gasped in both astonishment and awe, taking several steps back until he was once again at his post.
"Wha-what business do you have in Bryn Shander?" The guard stammered when he found his voice again.
"Our business is with Mertallo, if you don't mind." Kincaid returned briskly.
The two guards exchanged nervous glances/
"That crazy mage..." Bregon's younger companion muttered under his breath. The older guard shot a warning look his way, but Kincaid only smiled.
"You've met him?" He asked.
"No, not I." The guard replied. "But we all know of him. A traveling mage... he... brought his tower with him."
Kincaid chuckled. "Yes, that would be him. Now, good sirs, if you would be so kind..."
Both men nodded hastily and gave the signal for the massive gates to be opened. The two nodded their thanks at the guards and, before long, were out of their sight, traveling down the well-used inner roads of the city.
The younger guard whistled. "Was that not a sight to see?"
Bregon nodded and slumped against the city wall, staring at the sky. "In all my years, lad, never have I seen a moon elf more beautiful."
******************
Kincaid pleasantly slipped an arm around the waist of his lover, who responded in kind, and leaned against him as they walked. They drew many stares, both of them, and for many reasons. Occasionally, the wind would pick up about Viconia's cowl enough to reveal her beautiful visage. More then one young pair of male eyes found themselves unable to look away after such a sight. This she found more uncomfortable then she would like to admit. Walking in the open as such could not be further from what she was used to doing. Still, the elf took much comfort in having her consort in arm.
Kincaid gave her waist a little squeeze and whispered in her ear. "On the bright side, these are looks of astonishment, awe and more then a little jealousy. Not of hate."
The dark maiden sniffed. "If the world were fair, it would always be as such. No illusion on your part would be needed for that."
He smiled wryly, then noted. "If the world were fair, my ssinssrig, everyone would be as beautiful as you, and you would not be seen as such a rarity."
Viconia lifted her head from his shoulder and blinked. "Words of a poet... and unusual for you to see the bright side of things. Perhaps I am not the only one who has changed."
The mage paused and raised an eyebrow. "We have the rest of our lives to spend together, I think it's about time I took an optimistic approach." He looked around at the assembled crowd of passerbys who had stopped to gape. Gently, he lifted the hood away from the face of his lover and bent to kiss her full on the lips as if they were all alone. As if sixty-odd 'normal' people weren't standing by with their eyes as wide open as their mouths.
Viconia moaned and shifted comfortably, smiling as the kiss ended and the two resumed their trek. This time, the jealous looks people gave were more fixed on Kincaid, rather then his gorgeous companion.
"So tell me about this Mertallo, friend of yours." The elf asked only loud enough for her man to hear. "I remember you mentioning him on the way here."
"A traveling mage... a bit on the eccentric side. I met him while I was still training as a Sword Saint in Candlekeep. In fact, I've met many people there who may be able to help us these days." The mage looked around, then pointed to a tall structure not far away. It was not something easily missed. It's architecture, coloring, everything about it was completely out of place in the squalid northern city. "That would be his Tower. It's enspelled so that he can shrink it and carry it with him. Rather convenient, that. Anyway, he once bespoke of his wish to study the frozen north and the strange creatures that live here."
"You mean these peasants." Viconia said dryly, and none too quietly.
Kincaid smirked. "Funny. But he is oddly social, for a mage, and would not make even a temporary home outside of some sort of relative civilization."
As the two entered the small lot of land the odd tower stood upon, they were greeted by a guardian golem. The silent giant bowed once to Kincaid and led the way into the tower. The mage obliged and followed with Viconia somewhat wary by his side.
The inside of the tower was larger then the outside would imply. Scattered throughout the room where a number of vials and flasks, some opened, some not, books stacked as high as a man, sheets of paper covering nearly every bare surface and a caravan-load of miscellaneous spell components. The walls were painted in random, swirling patterns of colors that shifted depending on what angle you viewed them by. These patterns where broken here and there by the occasional artwork, either painted on to or hanging on the wall. On the ceiling flew many firefly-like balls of magical light that served as the light-source for the room.
To Viconia, who could innately sense magical energies as well as any mage, the tower was a stark contrast to what she had just walked through. She was careful to only walk where Kincaid walked and did so warily. To her sight, as it was with Kincaid, everything bore an aura of blue-ish energy. The tables, couches, paintings, walls, even the floor shared that telltale glow that bespoke of some magical property.
"Who dares walk in the home of Mertallo the Great?" Spoke a great booming voice that seemed to come from all sides.
Viconia frowned and crossed his arms. "Your friend thinks highly of himself." She whispered.
Kincaid grinned and spread his arms. "It is I! Jered Kincaid the Greater! I do so dare walk into the home of Mertallo the not-worth- mentioning." This brought a frustrated grumble and a man who's age Viconia could not guess from a doorway on the far side. Mertallo was not much shorter then Kincaid's six-and-a-half feet, though he was noticeably thinner, his skin hung somewhat loosely in comparison and his once-dark hair was well on it's way to becoming as white as his pale skin. Only his eyes, crystalline blue like Kincaid's, remained unchanged by time or the stress of working magic. Despite his somewhat aged appearance, Mertallo carried himself well, standing straight and walking with the measured, balanced steps of an adventurer who had seen more then his share of battles. His hands he kept behind his back where, Viconia guessed, several wands would be in easy reach. Overall, Mertallo's imposing, formidable image was far from that of the craggily, old, hunchback mage Viconia had thought he was, as was the case with most human mages. "It has been some time, old friend." Kincaid continued. "Do you forget the students from your younger days? Or is age catching up to your head, rather then your heels?"
Mertallo favored him with a derisive sniff and threw his arms in the air. "No respect. Nothing's changed, save your choice of company." The man peered at the dark elf momentarily, then looked to Kincaid as if awaiting an explanation. He received none. "Hmph. So, I take it you are concerned with the sudden Bhaal-related deaths and such?"
Kincaid nodded, not at all surprised, though Viconia took a step forward. "How did you know?"
Mertallo waved a hand. "People show up dead in little Bhaal-ish designs, Spheres pop up in the mountains and before long you see Yeti skin being made into fashionable hand-ware. It doesn't take a genius to make the connection, your man was obviously involved."
Kincaid made a small bow at the waist. "Too kind."
The older mage favored him with a cynical smile. "Yes, I am, aren't I? So, will you be bringing mayhem and thunderous destruction to this place as well?"
The younger mage sighed and turned his gaze skyward, letting the gesture be his reply. Mertallo had meant well, despite his attitude, but Kincaid found himself wondering how many times more would he have to hear such words. To any person, the presence of Jered Kincaid seemed synonymous with death and destruction. Sadly enough, they did so rightly, Kincaid thought.
Mertallo would not suffer the silence long, and huffed, "Well, don't simply stand there, take a seat. Let's get started." Looking around, Viconia saw every suitable surface already occupied with various papers, spell components, bodily organs (Some still working, despite having no body), flasks, bottles, boxes, rune stones and many other devices that could not be adequately described. Looking back to Mertallo, she found him indeed sitting, on nothing. Kincaid did likewise, that smiled propped his feet upon a footrest that was not there while reclining comfortably.
"Show off" Mertallo huffed.
***************
Amkathran. Eastern Cliffside.
"Fourteen..." Valygar whispered for the sixth time under his breath as though he could not believe it. Fourteen people out of Amkathran's already dwindling population had been slaughtered in the same manner as those in Athkatla. The news had reached them even before they had entered what was left of the city in the form of several fleeing citizens. Now the two, Valygar and Imoen, both stood and watched the sunset from the cliff on the east side. Predictably enough, the city below was intensely silent. Only a few brave peasants dared walk about, and even then they did so quickly.
Imoen sighed and leaned against him, resting her head on one broad shoulder. "We have to end it. All this death.... it's just too much."
Valygar put an arm around her shoulder comfortingly, giving her a measure of reassurance he did not feel. "They cannot hide forever. Things like this, murder to this degree... they will be found soon." He said.
"How soon?" Imoen breathed. "And how many more will fall before they are?"
"That I cannot answer. The only thing I can say is that I will fight by your side against any foe, for the good of Fearun."
A catlike smile curved Imoen's lips. "Wow.... Valygar the Paladin."
The ranger gave her a severe look. "What?"
The mage smiled up into his dark, serious visage. "Well listen to you. For the good of Fearun.... words I'd expect to hear from Minsc or Keldorn."
Valygar rolled his eyes. "Fine, I'll just shut up then-"
Imoen touched his cheek, halting his words and forcing him to meet her gaze. "You know, you're very cute when you're frustrated."
Valygar choked. "Cute?"
Imoen chuckled and pulled the tall man down for a kiss as the last of the sun's rays warmed them. The stoic ranger almost protested before his presence of mind rightly took over and he drew the young mage into a warm hug as their lips met. He wondered, briefly if she used magic to keep her hair smelling like sweet cinnamon and her body fresh and clean. If she was, then it served as another attack on the ranger's wilting hatred for the art. An attack he wholeheartedly welcomed.
A piercing scream in the night broke the silence and their kiss as harshly as a fireball would break the darkness of an underdark cavern.
The pair looked down to see a shadowy figure standing over a dead body. Blood dripped from it's arm in a circular pattern around that body, completing the Symbol of Bhaal. Neither Imoen nor Valygar stopped to ask questions, but both darted for the way down like two lions in chase of prey. Not bothering to use the ladders, they jumped from the cliff to the rooftop of the uppermost building, then to the rooftop of the next with barely a pause. Covering the distance to the last rooftop within a heartbeat, the pair jumped from there to the ground, landing heavily but unharmed.
Coming up, Imoen searched as best she could, but could see no one. The dead body of the sacrificed peasant lay not far away, still warm.
"No." Imoen hissed in protest. "Whoever it was, he will not get away."
Valygar's eyes closed as he summoned up his innate powers of tracking. He, like Imoen, had no mind to leave the murderer free to kill more people. Not, at least, without answers. Opening his eyes he saw things in a fresh, new light. Recent footfalls, scents in the air and other signs of their quarry stood out clearly in the twilight. The ranger then turned his attention to the west, to the desert and were the signs seemed fresher.
"He's fast and elusive." Valygar said somberly. "But we haven't lost him yet."
A cheery smile found a hold on the young woman's face and she immediately went about casting a spell that would speed the both of them. With a flamboyant flourish, she waved her hands and the both of them ran much faster then any human should be able to. Several times they stopped and Valygar would glance around, taking note of the shifts in the sand and the scents in the wind before sprinting off again. Their quarry was not only fleet of foot, but clever as well. Doubling back and circling around at some points he was able to confuse the pair without being seen.
At length, however Valygar caught up to him, Imoen in tow. As the ranger closed the distance between them, the assassin drew a well-crafted longsword and entered a defensive stance. Valygar responded in kind, baring his own Katanas. Malakar and the Corthalla Family blade gleamed in the dimming twilight of the desert sky. Darkness was quickly taking it's place and Valygar doubted he could track and pursue this quarry in the night should he again take flight. Best to end it quickly.
As the assassin and Ranger squared off, Imoen raised her bow (The Taugin short bow) and readied and arrow, calling out. "Who are you?"
The assassin made no reply. the mage decided to prompt him to answer and let loose an arrow. Though the projectile was magically enchanted to better hit it's mark, Imoen was surprised that it never did. The assassin snapped like a whip as the arrow sped near and narrowly avoided it.
The acrobatic feat nearly cost him his life. Valygar was a master swordsman, some would say that he could fight blow for blow against Drizzt (Though for the two goodly rangers to ever fight in earnest would be highly unlikely, leaving the people's speculations to just that) and easily took advantage of any opportunity to land a blow. Stepping forward and pivoting his weight on to his left foot he lunged with both swords, cutting a diagonal angle through the air.
Showing a great amount of agility, and more then a little luck, the assassin dove backwards the moment he saw Valygar's forward movement, even unbalanced as he was. He did not pause, however, and came up fast, quickly going offensive with a series of well-angled lunges and slashes meant to drive an opponent back, if not kill him immediately. His surprise only doubled, however, as the Ranger remained stationary and parried every last strike. His left-handed weapon, Malakar, moved almost of it's own accord to turn aside the assassin's blade. Valygar then stepped in with his other Katana going high in a horizontal slice. The assassin was forced to duck the blow, forced to parry Malakar's subsequent thrust and forced to accept the clean gash Valygar's Corthalla family blade scored across his upper thigh as he retreated.
The assassin paused to examine the wound. Not a deep cut, but one that bled profusely nonetheless. The man quickly took stock of his situation. The man he faced was easily his superior in combat. He was smart enough to recognize exceptional skill when he saw it. The girl was adept with the use of a bow and, as he then noticed the wands tucked into her belt his hope sank as he realized that she was a mage as well. A mage who had simply chosen not to cast her spells... yet.
Valygar advanced on his bleeding target and Imoen notched another arrow. The assassin was quicker. Driving his sword blade-first into the sand he unsheathed another, this one a short blade made of obsidian. Reversing the motion as soon as he had the sword drawn, the man plunged the blade into his own heart. Valygar stood by in shock, but Imoen rushed to the dying man's side.
"Who are you? Why are you doing this?" The young mage demanded.
The assassin only fell heavily on his back, spitting out one word as he did. "....Murder..."
*********************
Amkathra. The inn.
The ranger and mage had the small inn all to themselves, though they did not greatly exploit that fact. The innkeeper had been among those frightened citizens to flee from the doomed city. On his way out, he had carelessly forgotten to bring along his near-bottomless supply of Elverquisst, Evermead, Zzar, Firewine and several other drinks of varying potency. Imoen and Valygar helped themselves, mixing this with that and experimenting as they tried to make sense of what they had just witnessed. Valygar nursed his drink slowly, however. Partly because he wanted to keep his senses about him and partly because he still could not fully remember what happened the last time he got drunk.
"And what about this one?" Valygar asked as he held the finely-crafted assassin's long sword in his hands. The blade was one of the most exquisite swords he had seen, as far as modern blades go. It was perfectly balanced and well-adorned. If not for it's keen edge the ranger would have guessed it had been made for display purposes.
"It's an Amcathran blade." The young mage supplied. "Crafted in Waterdeep, Amcathran blades are among the best, if the best of all human- made swords. Some say they are on par with elven blades. This one is lightly enchanted, though nothing big. Just a few minor protections and such. A dweamor to increase one's combat odds as well."
"Then why do you look so worried?" The ranger inquired.
Imoen looked from the blade to her companion thoughtfully. "Because that likely means that these are mass-produced. If the sword were more powerful, I would think it unique."
Valygar nodded and drummed the table with his fingers. Defeating the assassin had been an easy feat, but the ranger did not think that others would fare so well. Not against a possible army of elusive assassins wielding enchanted weapons. Valygar and Imoen could likely handle themselves well against them, but the world was filled with people who are not Valygar and Imoen. "Tell me more about the Amcathran clan." The ranger murmured. "I know they are a family of nobles home to Waterdeep, though my own family was not acquainted with them."
Imoen shrugged. "There's not much more to them then that, that I know of, at least. They are a noble family of merchants that trade in exotic perfumes, spices, fabrics as well as their own trademark swords. They are close in business relations to the Thann and Callysandar families, I recall."
Valygar frowned as he examined the long sword again. "A family of merchants..." He echoed softly. "Imoen, do they not have a powerful wizard in their services?"
"No..." The young woman replied. "Though noble families routinely hire mages for whatever services they require."
"Still, to hire a mage would be very expensive. They would not make much of a profit from selling enchanted weapons by the armful if they had to turn around and give coin to the enchanter." Valygar pressed.
Imoen drained her decanter and sighed. "Of course they don't sell the blades enchanted. There is no war going on, and scarce few adventurers are rich enough to buy magical blades, many have suitable weapons already. They sell their swords as that are so-"
"The assassins perform the enchantment themselves." Valygar finished.
Imoen nodded and leaned back in her chair. "So they have the use of magic with them too."
Valygar was far from happy with that revelation.
Suddenly, Imoen looked up. "We go to Waterdeep with haste come morning. We need to contact the Amcathran clan and find out if our theory is sound. If it is, then they would have the names of whoever has been buying these here swords by the bundle." Then, Imoen gave the ranger a rather tipsy smile. "See? I'm suppose to be the smart one."
"You are." Valygar pointed out. "It's you're idea, I just had to say if, plan it and direct you to it for you. After all of these simple tasks, I let you do the hard part."
Imoen laughed and kicked him playfully under the table. "That had better the Firewine talking."
Valygar laughed. "It is." He waved a hand at the mage's empty decanter. "You're the one drinking it, though."
---------------------------------
That sudden thud on the floor you may hear would be my unconscious body. You know how it is... I hope. How many of you put in more then 40 hours a week at a job were the stress level would make an air traffic controller's duties seem like playing golf. Not to say that I play golf myself, I think it's such an old retired man's sport. I'm not that old and decrepit, yet. Soon, though. In any case, I've been so very busy lately. It doesn't matter if I have a day off, I know they'll call me in (there's only two other people on my shift, and both are pregnant. The pregnancy is not my fault). You can imagine how much time I get between work, sleep, and my lazy (though shapely) ass not wanting to sit here and think up another chapter to my slowly progressing story.
Enough about me, though. More about you! How are you? Have you hugged your pixels today? How many of you have played and beaten Balduar's Gate 2 more then three times with five different character's? I have. Sad, huh? It gets worse. One day I was mining my own business and a friend told me something about looking for items in the override folder... then there I was... poking around here and there when I started doing stuff... Hey, it just happened. I opened up the override folder and started looking through the files in WordPad. Within hours I was re-writing the ex tables, writing down what little tags like AP_SPCL441 stand for and altering everything that ended with .2DA
Does everybody do this or is it just me?
Irenicus: Whoa, let me get this straight. You went into the game with WordPad... and changed it?
Dislexic: Yeah... doesn't everybody?
Irenicus: .......
So, in any case, I think I'll keep the max level at 45 for now, I'll soon be remaking my player character to be level 40kensai/45 mage (oh yeah!) Mages now have the ability to use Lay On Hands, memorize 12 spells per level at level 45, the Inquisitor's dispel magic and true sight and... well, the list goes on. Don't get me wrong, though. I'm not really cheating (Enemies are effected too) I'm simply making it a little more fair and rewarding for gaining that huge amount of xp required. Like giving mages magic resistance. I mean, c'mon! they work with the stuff as a job for shit! A monk gets resistance, but a mage? Hell no! Well, that's different now!
Irenicus: But... how did you do that, seeing as mages don't have a 2DA file?
Dislexic: Oh... I made one.
Irenicus: You... made one?
Dislexic:... uh-huh.
Irenicus:................................................................ Exactly how much tea have you been drinking?!?!?