Disclaimer: Natural color variations may occur with this product.
Dislexic: You know, I've noticed something.
Irenicus: That being?
Dislexic: Consider the three romantic interest choices for the male player character (Female as well, if you know how to hack the script). Aerie- lawful good, Jaheira- True Neutral, and Viconia- Neutral Evil (though subject to change).
Irenicus: Yes, one of each alignment. So?
Dislexic: There's something else. Aerie I'm sure is a virgin, Jaheira has one had sex with her husband and Viconia has slept with mostly every male south of Balduars Gate. Do you think it might have something to do with their alignment.
Irenicus: So you're saying that all good people are virgins and everyone who sleeps around is evil?
Dislexic: I love it when you twist my words around like that.
Irenicus: Oh, I can do so much worse. Anyway, have you tried her? Aerie?
Dislexic: Hell no! I could hardly suffer though the first few dialogs. I'm sorry, but I am attracted to strong women and Aerie is so high maintenance she should come with a warranty.
Irenicus: Oh, and Vhailor had another comment about the hit points. Correct math, says he/she/both/it/?.
Dislexic: I've read it.... how many familiars do you suppose he has?
Irenicus: One, I'd wager.
Dislexic chuckles and shrugs: Well sure. If you look at it THAT way....
Current changes to the mage class.
Mages may now specialize to the point of grand mastery with any weapon (seeing as the proficiency bonuses aren't so astronomically awesome anyway.). However, they still gain the fewest number of proficiency slots out of all the classes. Also, until level 45, they can still only use the quarterstaff, dagger, sling and dart.
Mages now gain more spells per level at a higher rate, comparable to the cleric's spell charts. By level 45, a mage can memorize 12 spells per level.
Level 15: A mage's skills in elemental magic allow him to cast storm shield once per day (gains another use at level 44)
17: The mage's abilities in manipulating magical energies grant him insight into the workings of magic. Once per day the mage may use 'Dispel Magic' at 1 casting speed and double effectiveness (gains another use at levels 28, 37 and 44).
20: Can cast 'True Sight' at 1 spell casting speed once per day (gains another use at levels 38 and 44)
25: Gains 8% magic resistance. Continues to gain an additional 3% per level up to a maximum of 68% at level 45
26: Knowledge of spell-casting and spell-disruption enable the mage to add a cumulative 10% chance of spell failure to each melee attack.
27: Magical energies intensify in the mage's bloodstream and he becomes immune to disease.
29: Gains immunity to Poison.
30: Magical energies can be used to heal as well. Metabolic knowledge enables the wizard to use 'Lay on Hands' once per day (heals 40 hp. Gains another use at levels 36 and 44)
31: the wizard is considered a magical creature and continues to gain supernatural abilities. Gains 10% elemental resistance. gains another 10% at level 41.
32: gains 10% resistance to all physical damage.
33: May use 'Hardiness' once per day. Gains another use at level 43.
34: Bonus -2 to AC
35: May use 'Prot. from evil 10' radius' once per day. Gains another use at level 42.
39: May use 'Evasion' once per day. Gains another use at level 42.
40: Bonus -1 to AC
42: Wizard is now considered a celestial creature, even if he or she remains a mortal. The mage gains higher supernatural abilities.
43: +3 to hit and damage with all weapons. May use 'Scribe Scrolls' once per day. May use 'Greater Evasion' once per day.
44: +3 to hit and damage with all weapons. Bonus -1 to AC. May use 'Stunning Blow' once per day. May use 'Critical Strike' once per day.
45: Mage's Lore reaches peak value. May use any Item. The mage also gains divine favor from Mystra, Goddess of Magic, regardless of current deity worshipped, and may use 'Summon Deva' once per day as an ability.
(*phew*)
I hope you have more fun reading that then I did writing it. Maybe later I'll do something about all the AP_SPCL GA_SPPR .2DA ect. ect. I'm not finished compiling the list, however, so you will have to wait.
To some of you, this may seem a little extreme, but it's really not, considering the incredible amounts of xp needed to reach these high levels. After reaching level 40, the xp requirements accelerate far beyond the normal 250000 that was needed between levels 20-40. In fact, to reach level 45, 69000000 xp is needed :)
no joke, these are fair rewards and also subject to change. Once I get my editor working, I'm going to start making my own spells. Just wait, soon you shall see powerful magics such as
Power word Shuttup (silences target with no save)
Power word Fuckyou! (creates a rod 12 inches by 3 inches behind the target which.... uh... inflicts 1d10+10 points of blunt/piercing/both damage per round for 5 turns. Target also drops weapon and becomes paralyzed. Is entitled to a saving throw vs. screw to avoid damage and run away in terror.)
Dislexic's special tea (removes effects of fatigue, increases intelligence of all party members by +2, but lowers constitution by -1 for 6 hours)
Drive by of Doom (a Lincoln town car slowly drives by the target, then gunshots are heard. The car then pulls away...)
Darryl's Pimping Habits (charms an enemy female into changing sides... and taking off her armor. Target is allowed a saving throw vs. screw at -12 penalty with a caster's charisma modifier.)
Orgasm Powder (Genai Lunare's special! Now you can cast it in the privacy of your own home, or during a battle!! An odd, yellowish powder surrounds the target and immediately has a powerful, chemical effect on it. Target is healed 1d12+5 points per round of spell, spell lasts as long as the target can last! Once finished, the target either becomes stunned or unconscious.)
Bigby's Middle Finger (A giant, disembodied hand flips the bird at the opponents.)
And Many Many More!!
One more note. Upon making these changes, I was able to level up Kincaid to 40 mage. This is rather understandable, considering that final, climactic battle with Amellyssan. I mean, that's a rather life-altering experience.
------------------------------
14th day of Alturiak 1370DR
I have often wondered if I was traveling a road that had no turns, no exits. Is this road I travel restricted to a single destination? Would it narrow at a point, so that those walking abreast with me would be left behind? I admit, I had worried about this more before the incident with Amylessan, but I find that it is returning to my mind again. With that comes other worries, some weigh more heavily on me then others.
My companions with whom I have traveled, I remember taking their presence with me for granted. I always thought that they would be there to help or hinder me, it would not matter either way. What mattered was that they were with me as friends. My journeys did not seems so terrible, thanks largely to them. I would hate to think of how it would have been had I traveled alone. I doubt they would have allowed me to refuse their company, regardless, and although I did fear for their safety, I would not deny them the freedom to make their own choice. How could I? To take one's life into one's hands was the very choice I made myself, that day I left Candlekeep.
I left seeking blood. Imoen followed. Jaheira and Khalid soon thereafter, then others. This day, looking back, I can see where I might have brought murder to those who did no deserve it. Back then I took solace in knowing that it was their choice to follow me. Now I do not know how to feel. People have fallen because of my direct involvement, many authorities are yet seeking my head, holding me responsible for acts I do not believe I should be held accountable for.
They can't all be wrong, can they? Did I handle my situations poorly? Were there other choices I did not see? Better choices? Worse yet, if my story is not yet complete, is there more havoc to be wrought because of me? I did not feel guilty before. Remorseful, regretful, but not guilty. Now I do not know. In any case, I shall save those musings for another time.
Jered Kincaid
******************
Chapter 8
Purple stuff and Seeking shadows
Mertallo's Tower. Bryn Shandar.
The two powerful wizards floated, rather then sat, across from each other in a very spacious, very disorganized library of a room. Everywhere tomes lay scattered here and there, taking up every bit of shelf, chair, desk and more then a bit of floor space. The room, which Mertallo jokingly referred to as his 'study' was well illuminated with the same magical ceiling lights that were in the antechamber on the first floor.
"Here... here... and... ah, here." Mertallo mumbled as he pointed to various spots of the map. Decanters filled with purplish liquid floated nearby.
"But not 'there' or 'this spot here'?" Kincaid mused.
The older mage shot him a look. "I'm being serious about this. Look you, I've marked all the locations thus far."
Kincaid shrugged and leaned over the map. "Hmm... should I be counting the coffee stains?"
"No change." The mage grumbled to himself then took a long pull on a decanter floating by. Finished, he let go of it and it continued to float. "No respect."
"It's one of his more endearing qualities." Said the melodious voice of Viconia as the drow cleric appeared in the doorway. Both mages turned to regard to elf slowly. The drow held her head as regally as any queen while the two males inspected her. A silken robe, fluffy in some places, covered in exotic, golden designs. Her silky white hair spilled down around her shapely shoulders, still glistening with moisture from her recent bath. Droplets of water still clung to her ebony skin in some places, and an evil, catlike smile curved her lips as her eyes met Kincaid's. The hapless human stared at her in a trance-like state, his grip on the decanter he held tightened five-fold.
Mertallo looked quickly from one to the other, then waved his hands at Kincaid in an over-emphasized display of drama. "No! Kincaid, look away! Look away while you still can!"
"I... can't... help... it." Kincaid said with a dazed voice. "She's... so... beautiful..."
Viconia was the first to break the spell with a delightful burst of laughter. The two men soon joined in, though Kincaid did not take his eyes off of his alluring lady. The nimble elf hopped from one rare spot of bare flooring to the next until she was behind her floating man. Presently wrapping her arms around his neck (which did not help him concentrate at all) she peered over his should at the map. It showed the city of Bryn Shandar, marked along the outer and suburban areas with chalk and what looked like coffee stains. Then her nose crinkled as she caught the scent of what the two mages were drinking and looked up.
"Hmm? Potions of Genius?" Viconia asked.
Mertallo looked up lazily. "What?"
"She means the drinks." Kincaid explained, then turned to his lover. "Yes actually. But it turns out that up here in this region, they just call it what it is. Liquid codeine or-"
Mertallo raised his decanter and the two mages simultaneously said, "Purple Stuff!"
With that, the two mages chugged back the remains of their respective drinks and left their empty containers floating in the air, to be refilled by floating jugs.
"Alright, back to the subject here. Let's not be sidetracked..." Mertallo mumbled as potion kicked in. "I've already considered all mathematical explanations for these Bhaal-related murders and no such current venture seems logical. However, I do find it interesting that they seem to occur at 12 hour intervals." Mertallo pointed from one mark on the map, to another as he continued. "Day one, noon, here. That was about a tenday ago. Midnight here. Day two, noon, here and next here and here and.."
"Stop!" Kincaid suddenly burst out, leaning over the spread map with sudden interest. "Look.... they are the same. See!"
The two mages looked from the map, to each other in a look of sudden revelation.
Viconia, who had not consumed any 'purple stuff' furrowed her brow in confusion as the blue-haired mage raised his fist into the air. "Yes! See! Within three hundred twenty-five minutes-"
"I suppose you'll do the usual?" Mertallo broke in.
Kincaid blinked. "Have you known me to do any other?"
The drow tentively plucked her lover's decanter out of the air before he reached for it and sniffed it's contents suspiciously.
"Imoen, I'm sure, already knows. Though we must get the components ready- " Kincaid continued to say.
"Impossible! Not until I have more eggs!" The older mage shot back.
Kincaid clenched his fist into the air. "But you know full well that the Ice trolls are too much, don't be foolish."
Mertallo huffed. "His mother did not raise him well."
With that, the two mages suddenly calmed and simultaneously nodded. "On that, we both agree." Kincaid said, rubbing his hands against his temples.
Meanwhile, Viconia stood by gaping. At length, she released the decanter into the air and slapped a hand down on her lover's shoulder. Kincaid jumped, which looked odd, floating as he was, and looked up at the drow in bewilderment, which only served to confuse the elf more.
"If those potions are suppose to make you smarter," Viconia began to say, slowly. "Why do you seem to not already know what a want?"
Kincaid blinked. "What? To know a woman's wants and whims? There's no potion strong enough in all Fearun!"
Mertallo smirked into his decanter, which was now refilled and in his hands but Viconia, less amused, took her hand from her lover's shoulder and brought it up to slap him. With surprising speed, the blue-haired mage captured her wrist and pulled her into his lap, holding her arms in check.
"Well..." He said pleasantly. "I saw that one coming. Come now, my dark, fiery maiden-"
"Right now?" The suddenly docile drow purred.
Kincaid looked to Mertallo, as if to give him a warning look to stave off any comments the witty mage might have, but he was presently taking this opportunity to examine the ceiling. Favoring Viconia with a sardonic look, the blue-haired mage said. "You know full well what I meant."
The dark elf raised a snowy eyebrow, but said nothing as her lover began pointing out locations on the map. "In about five hours, we are going to do some hunting, you and I. You see, Mertallo and I were saying, the murders all happen at 12 hour intervals, for whatever reason. Now, I noticed that the bodies were all discovered at locations around Bryn Shandar. Rather then being just random spots, they fit a pattern, and if you look at the city from this point of view, with the locations marked like this it looks like-"
"The Symbol of Bhaal." Viconia whispered.
Mertallo nodded and Kincaid continued. "The symbol is not complete, more blood must be spilled, and therefore we can count on another murder to happen in about five hours, so long as our killer, or killers, continue to hold to their strict schedule."
The older mage pointed to the southeastern section of Bryn Shandar on the map. "This will most likely be the next spot. Low-rent district, quite the slum. And easy place."
Viconia nodded in understanding, then asked. "Alright, but what about all that other nonsense you two were babbling about. Like the words to an insane bard mind-blasted by illithids."
Kincaid sighed. "Well, Mertallo has this spell here that, well.... I'm not going to go into explanations. It's just a useful spell-"
"That requires eggs." Mertallo huffed in frustration.
The younger mage nodded and leaned back to examine his own favored spot in the ceiling. "Argrymn, a local merchant was to bring in a fresh supply-"
"And he was beset by Ice Trolls, because the cheapskate didn't hire enough cavern guards." Mertallo broke in, obviously disgusted.
Again Kincaid sighed. "So you see, his mother, a merchant herself, did not raise him well, else he would have known the value of keeping a good regimen of guards near."
Viconia frowned, but then nodded in understanding. "I... see... I suppose."
The human stroked her neckline slowly, his expression sobering and his eyes darkening a little. Leaning close, he whispered. "Once more unto the breach, my dark maiden. We'll find some answers, and blood shall be spilled, sweat shall be shed. Not necessarily in that order."
"Tcheh. Five hours..." The dark elf replied, stretching a slender hand to caress Kincaid's cheek. "How to spend the time?"
Mertallo chose that moment to loudly clear his throat. "First, we'll eat. Now come on, the dining room is actually somewhat organized."
As the older mage led the way, Kincaid gave his dark elven companion a helpless look in answer to her pouting expression. "We are, after all, his guests."
Viconia nodded, but said nothing. The two followed several steps behind Mertallo with an arm around each other's waist.
Leaving the study on the opposite side of where they had entered from, the trio turned down a hallway that sported several doors on either side and expanded for some distance. Some doors were open, revealing very large and very disorganized rooms of various purposes. In one room, Viconia saw many cages lining the walls, housing large, insect-like creatures. Likely the local native cave-dwellers. In another room, a floating sphere of water more then six feet in diameter stood, surrounded by several, smaller spheres of varying degrees in color.
Devoid off all objects but for several obsidian statues of nude females was yet another room, one of the half-a-handful of Mertallo's rooms that bore a sense of cleanliness and organization. One statue held a harp that bore a single birds wing as an adornment, also carved from obsidian, while another held an elven scepter to her lips as if preparing to release a spell. A third was of a female elven warrior, twin rapiers in her hands, on one bent with her head down as though she had fought for many hours and was near collapse. A fourth statue looked like a courtesan, a sexy smile played across her lips with her arms hugging herself coyly.
Nudging her lover, the drow drew his attention to the very life-like figures, saying, "Your friend has quite a collection of artwork."
Kincaid smiled. "An appreciation for fine art and beauty is a trait we both share, actually. Which reminds me, I need to paint you."
Viconia chuckled dismissively, but found herself entertaining the notion nonetheless.
Turning down another hall, this one longer then the first, it occurred to the elf that Mertallo's 'home' was far larger on the inside then it was on the outside. The work of extra-planer magic, no doubt. At length, the three arrived at the kitchen and dining room which was, true to the old mage's word, very neat and well organized. The table was clear, save for a white tablecloth. Four elegant oak chairs surrounded the table, and the four corners of the dining room where occupied by small end-tables, each sporting long dinner candles. The adjoining kitchen was surprisingly clean as well. Though there was no doubt in Viconia's mind that the mage used powerful magics to have the area kept so clean, she was impressed.
Beside her, Kincaid whistled. "Why you dog! No man shines up his eating quarters like this unless he's expecting a lady friend to see it."
Mertallo snorted. "Oh hush. Is it so surprising that I eat my meals in this environment?"
The young mage and his drow lover both shared a speculative glance.
"Where you are concerned, my friend, yes." Kincaid answered. "Such a romantic set... you've been having company. My, you're full of surprises."
"Oh whatever! You know me better then that. I've better things to do with my time."
"Nothing could be better." Kincaid scolded. He slipped an arm around Viconia's waist for emphasis, then sniffed the air. "Oh... and that smell... My my, Mertallo. Fond of seafood?"
"Ghah! No respect." The wizard huffed in exasperation.
****************
Athkatla. North of the Docks District.
Arkanis and Yochiko, two of Athkatla's most feared assassins as well as high-ranking agents of the Shadow Thieves, skittered across the streets of this city they lived in as if they were unwelcome guests. Skittering like fleeting shadows from one corner to the next. First Arkanis, then, like an echo or afterthought, Yochiko would follow within a heartbeat. The two passed by guards and soldiers who took no notice, the most alert of which could only detect a subtle break in the wind and nothing more. Blending into the shadows as they were, light itself seemed to refused touching them.
Though the names of these two were sometimes whispered in the streets, it was not often that they would allow themselves to be seen by any but a victim of their handiwork. Yet tonight, the two thieves took more then the necessary precautions for avoiding detection. The unexplained murders which had effected, up to this point, the peasants and occasional merchant on the streets have begun to affect people of all statures in society, indiscriminately. A noble of the house Brega, the very brother of Athkatla's chief inspector, was found dead along with the body of a lowly member of the Twisted Rune the day before. Since then, five Shadow Thieves, all of no mean skill, have also been discovered lying in a circle of tear-shaped blood drops.
Arkanis and Yochiko took more then the necessary precautions.
A pair of Amnish legionary marched down the streets, their halberds over their shoulders and a look of grim determination set on their face. The thieves prudently remained unseen as the soldiers passed them by.
"Like lambs off to the slaughter." Arkanis whispered to his companion.
The slant-eyed assassin responded in a hiss. "Tch. Right now, we're no different."
"Not so. We run from the slaughter."
Yochiko nudged him as he cast a nervous glance around. The street was clear, though that did not help his apprehension. "Then we're rabbits instead."
A pair of shadows flitted through the streets like faint memories. No one took notice. The streets remained as dead with silence as those of Netheril stood now. Guards patrolled areas here and there, creating the illusion of peace in a city that had suddenly become struck by a plague of murders.
***************
Bryn Shandar. Mertallo's Tower.
Soft, pleasant music soothed the three magic-using friends as they dinned on an exquisitely elegant meal. The music did not seem to emanate from any specific point, but neither Kincaid, nor Viconia objected or inquired as to it's origin. Rather, they enjoyed it's wonderfully soothing effects for granted and didn't ask questions. The food had a similar effect. Kincaid was pleasantly surprised to find a large, juicy steak served medium rare on a platter of mixed vegetables, all spiced accordingly. Kincaid and his dark lover both accepted the older mages surprisingly splendid hospitality graciously, and for a moment, Mertallo could almost swear the young Bhaalspawn was being respectful.
"Wait, wait. Don't tell me. You went in with weapons bared and killed them all, eh?" Said Mertallo with a glint in his eye.
Kincaid smiled and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Oh, how well you know me."
"Knew would be more apt a word." Viconia remarked to her glass, then looked over it to the older mage to explain. "He actually negotiated in this case. Oh, don't look so disappointed, he did it with prejudice."
Mertallo turned a withering gaze to his old friend. "Is this true?"
"It is. I threatened it... the fish-thing whatever it was. I said I would expose it if it exposed me. Obviously, it was interested in staying alive more so then most opponents I've come across." Said Kincaid.
"In a drow city, one would have to be." Viconia observed before finishing her glass of water. Mertallo could understand well the choice of water over wine that his two guests had made. One simply did not become drunk before a potential battle and, contrary to popular belief, elves were not immune to the effects of alcohol. Some have been known to shrug off it's effects in lesser amounts, and no elf was ever witnessed to have passed out from it, but intoxication effected them was easily as it did humans. In many cases, due to an elf's smaller size, more easily.
With that, the cleric rose and excused herself to prepare for the hunt ahead. Kincaid watched her go, his eyes lingered for several moments on the sway of her hips. With a sigh, he turned back to his food to find Mertallo studying him, his chin resting on one palm.
"An interesting choice of companionship. Discreet, smart and incredibly wise. More then a little seductive..." He let the last thought hang suggestively.
"Seductive?" Kincaid echoed. "Hm. True enough. It's no magical spell that she has me under."
Mertallo nodded once but his expression did not change. "Don't misunderstand me. As long as you speak for her, she's welcome in my home, regardless of race. I only am concerned-"
"That she might have me under her control." The mage finished with a smile, lifting a healthy chunk of meat to his lips. "Mmm. Delicious. You know, my old friend, I put it to you again. To produce such wonderfully good food, you must have been making good use of it. The sweet air, the music... is this a regular retreat for the women of Bryn Shandar?"
"You didn't answer me." Mertallo said, unblinking and undeterred.
"You asked no question." Kincaid returned, his voice suddenly hard and his gaze narrow. "You insinuated malice on the part of my companion. Since we are old friends, I'll let that pass." Mertallo nodded and indicated for him to continue, which he did with a sigh. "If you had asked me but a year ago if I trusted her... m answer would have been different. But now there can be no other. There is no intrigue between her and I, my old friend. No games, not any more at least. Just a great deal of history... and many changes. For both of us, yes, there have been changes. I won't go into details, but I will tell you that she is not the woman I once knew. She's... nothing like the drow, not anymore." The mage paused. "If you want to know more, why not ask her?"
The wizard regarded his guest silently for a moment, then raised his glass to him and drank. "I just may. Now, on to our preparations."
****************
Bryn Shandar. The Slums.
Merrok grumbled nervously under his breath. All light, save for that from the stars, had fled from his surroundings several minutes ago and he, and middle-aged man with terrible dark vision, had to make with way at a crawling pace. The streets were customarily quiet. After all, a city that housed mostly criminals would not be known for its great social behavior. Nonetheless, the peasant man was unnerved.
The buildings presented themselves only as great, hulking shadows, smaller objects were equally vague to Merrok's sight. One shadow, interestingly enough, moved from when he saw it last. The peasant gulped nervously and peered at it, unable to make out what it was in his near- sightedness. After a moment's hesitation, the man moved on, this time more warily.
The 'shadow' watched the peasant stumble blindly along his path, a stone shortblade in his hand. With the grace of a cat, the assassin stalked after his prey. This one would be too easy to kill, but it had to be done. The circle of murder had to be complete.
As the assassin neared his intended victim, he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. Looking around, even his trained sight could reveal nothing. The assassin shrugged and prepared to strike, whispering, "Murder..."
"Comes to those who expect it least." Merrok replied, turning around to face his executioner.
The assassin started in surprise as his quarry shifted and stood strait, all evidence of near-sightedness and clumsiness gone. With a sudden movement, the killer lunged, stone blade leading, intending to plunge the weapon into the peasant's heart before he proved dangerous. To his surprise, the 'peasant sidestepped the attack and countered with a powerful chest hit with a quarterstaff that had not been in his hands a moment before.
The assassin stumbled back, coughing for air and struggling against the unnatural, stinging cold he suddenly felt.
"Blast. What are you?" He spat.
The 'peasant's' illusionary for melted away within moments. In his place stood a tall, well-built man with sharp features, piercing blue eyes and strangely dark blue hair. Jered Kincaid smiled pleasantly and bowed at the waist.
The assassin's eyes widened in recognition for but a moment. "It's you... Survivor." He hissed. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously. He reached into one of the folds of his tunic and drew out what looked like a glass orb about two inches in diameter.
Kincaid took no chances and made a single motion with his hand. Ten small glowing missiles burst forth suddenly and unerringly pelted the assassin, hurling him back several meters. The orb fell from his hand but, unfortunately, it released a spell as it hit the cobblestone and burst. A crimson cloud expanded from it's shattered pieces and rose to envelope the human.
This time it was Kincaid's eyes that widened and he jumped back, but the blood-cloud followed. Quickly, he made another gesture with his hand, this one meant to deaden all magic within the area and was surprised to find nothing happen. The cloud overtook him, even before he could scream out in protest and held him there as surely as if he were frozen in a giant cube of ice. His muscles would not respond to his commands, even worse, his innate magical abilities would not come forth.
The assassin rose and dusted himself off. Oddly enough, he seemed healthier, healed even. Regeneration of some sort, Kincaid though.
"We knew you would take an active hand in this soon. We were not unprepared, Bhaalspawn." He said coldly as he stalked forth, his ritualistic stone blade once again ready.
Kincaid's eyes narrowed, which was about the only thing he could do. Although he could understand how a specialized spell, directed solely at him, would succeed in rendering him immobile, he could not understand how it could also block his magic. In more then one way it did just that. Kincaid was a very intelligent mage, and very thoughtful. Always he had contingency spells in place should he be caught be surprise or some other unforeseen circumstance. One such spell was designed to create a duplicate of him, turn him invisible and render him immune to all magical weapons in the event that he should be rendered helpless. But to his frustration and amazement, the spell would not go off!
The assassin raised his obsidian blade and prepared to strike. "Fitting, it is, that you should fall to this-- AARGH!" He suddenly screamed as something bit deeply into his leg. Looking down and to the left he saw an enormous spider making a meal of his calve. Growling in pain, he stabbed at the creature, only to see it phase and disappear before his blade could reach it.
The real attack, however, came from the right. Distracted as he was, the assassin failed to notice the flail, or the drow who held it, that swung hard into his side.
"Vith'os!" Viconia shouted triumphantly.
The man landed on the ground like a discarded doll. He struggled, but could barely sit up, groaning from the agony the poison and acid wrought, battling his own regeneration and winning. He opened his eyes to find a most frightening image. But then, scant few human males find the sight of a battle-ready drow anything less then fear-inspiring. "You..." He struggled to gasp.
The drow paid him no heed, tracing a hand across her lover's jaw line in concern as she examined the localized cloud that held him. Before her eyes, it began to dissipate and bleed into the air around it. She breathed a sigh of relief, cautiously, and turned a cold, murderous gaze on the assassin. He reached to unsheathe a sword from his scabbard but Kitthix was there to intervene, taking a healthy bite out of his hand.
Again he screamed, again he tried to strike the spider, again it phased out of existence.
The man in dark clothing raised his eyes to meet those of the drow as she raised her deadly weapon for one final blow.
"Kill me." He hissed defiantly. "I'll never tell you anything."
"Wrong." She whispered with unnerving calm. "You will tell us everything."
With that, the Flail of Ages came down hard, with all the enhanced strength of the drow cleric behind it. Briefly, the assassin wondered what hit his head harder, the flail or the ground. He never lived long enough to figure it out.
-----------------------------
On with the morbid, bloody and head-knocking-around. I guess you get this way if you see Blade 2 and play Torment closely together. The images of blood and violence you get from Blade, mixed with having that floating skull follow you around... hell, I don't know. What does influence me? Maybe it's these pills. Or that purple stuff... Purrrrrrpluullllll (Flow as I do- Wave 'em side to side)
Ah. I don't know where that came from, sorry. Let me turn the radio off. But then, that gets me to thinking. All these tea-related jumbles of nonsense that I write up... can any of you really follow along what I'm saying? I mean, I do TRY to put in enough sentences as to convey the thought, but I do realize that not everybody has an intelligence rating of 19 (You get a +1 to intelligence for choosing the Author kit) so I'd imagine several of you are staring at your screens going... Huh?!
I pity you.
Scented candles are an effective form of aromatherapy. I'm burning a black cherry one now. It's soothing. It also helps mask the stench you get when you live in an un-air-conditioned room in South Texas. Not a pleasant experience, mind. Or smell, mind. However, I must bring up a topic right here and right now that I simply cannot hold off for another day. I know I was going to but... well, I simply must say it. It might sound like a rant but either bear with me or scroll down.
Issue: Fresh lemons vs. Rotten Lemons.
I know I haven't written a full-fledged lemon yet, but I feel obligated to say this, nonetheless. I cannot help but feel disappointed with some of what I'm reading. I mean... plausibility, someone. One can only fully enjoy a story, a lemon especially, if one can believe in it. For that, we cannot have dialog (I must gripe about the dialog) that is simply never said in real life, or even fantasy life.
Example, martial arts setting:
Woman: I noticed you used a move against your other opponents, but not me, why?
Man: Because of your breasts.
Woman: Oh.. I see.
How many of you hear this quite often while touring martial arts competitions? If so, how often does it lead to sex? If the answer is "quite often" on both accounts, I'd very much like to know where you live. Now, let's step back into reality for a moment and take a better look on how that dialog might have gone with a bit of subtlety.
Woman: You're holding back. I've seen you use moves on others you haven't tried against me.
Man: Honestly? I.. uh. I just don't want to hurt you.
Woman: Oh? .... that's sweet.
Now, regardless of what the woman says, even if she thinks the guy's sexist, she'll like that fact that he's showing her respect in his own way. I know that this particular dialog may not happen, in all likelihood, but comparing it to the one above, it definitely has more plausibility. Thank you for your time. More on this subject during future chapters.
Dislexic: You know, I've noticed something.
Irenicus: That being?
Dislexic: Consider the three romantic interest choices for the male player character (Female as well, if you know how to hack the script). Aerie- lawful good, Jaheira- True Neutral, and Viconia- Neutral Evil (though subject to change).
Irenicus: Yes, one of each alignment. So?
Dislexic: There's something else. Aerie I'm sure is a virgin, Jaheira has one had sex with her husband and Viconia has slept with mostly every male south of Balduars Gate. Do you think it might have something to do with their alignment.
Irenicus: So you're saying that all good people are virgins and everyone who sleeps around is evil?
Dislexic: I love it when you twist my words around like that.
Irenicus: Oh, I can do so much worse. Anyway, have you tried her? Aerie?
Dislexic: Hell no! I could hardly suffer though the first few dialogs. I'm sorry, but I am attracted to strong women and Aerie is so high maintenance she should come with a warranty.
Irenicus: Oh, and Vhailor had another comment about the hit points. Correct math, says he/she/both/it/?.
Dislexic: I've read it.... how many familiars do you suppose he has?
Irenicus: One, I'd wager.
Dislexic chuckles and shrugs: Well sure. If you look at it THAT way....
Current changes to the mage class.
Mages may now specialize to the point of grand mastery with any weapon (seeing as the proficiency bonuses aren't so astronomically awesome anyway.). However, they still gain the fewest number of proficiency slots out of all the classes. Also, until level 45, they can still only use the quarterstaff, dagger, sling and dart.
Mages now gain more spells per level at a higher rate, comparable to the cleric's spell charts. By level 45, a mage can memorize 12 spells per level.
Level 15: A mage's skills in elemental magic allow him to cast storm shield once per day (gains another use at level 44)
17: The mage's abilities in manipulating magical energies grant him insight into the workings of magic. Once per day the mage may use 'Dispel Magic' at 1 casting speed and double effectiveness (gains another use at levels 28, 37 and 44).
20: Can cast 'True Sight' at 1 spell casting speed once per day (gains another use at levels 38 and 44)
25: Gains 8% magic resistance. Continues to gain an additional 3% per level up to a maximum of 68% at level 45
26: Knowledge of spell-casting and spell-disruption enable the mage to add a cumulative 10% chance of spell failure to each melee attack.
27: Magical energies intensify in the mage's bloodstream and he becomes immune to disease.
29: Gains immunity to Poison.
30: Magical energies can be used to heal as well. Metabolic knowledge enables the wizard to use 'Lay on Hands' once per day (heals 40 hp. Gains another use at levels 36 and 44)
31: the wizard is considered a magical creature and continues to gain supernatural abilities. Gains 10% elemental resistance. gains another 10% at level 41.
32: gains 10% resistance to all physical damage.
33: May use 'Hardiness' once per day. Gains another use at level 43.
34: Bonus -2 to AC
35: May use 'Prot. from evil 10' radius' once per day. Gains another use at level 42.
39: May use 'Evasion' once per day. Gains another use at level 42.
40: Bonus -1 to AC
42: Wizard is now considered a celestial creature, even if he or she remains a mortal. The mage gains higher supernatural abilities.
43: +3 to hit and damage with all weapons. May use 'Scribe Scrolls' once per day. May use 'Greater Evasion' once per day.
44: +3 to hit and damage with all weapons. Bonus -1 to AC. May use 'Stunning Blow' once per day. May use 'Critical Strike' once per day.
45: Mage's Lore reaches peak value. May use any Item. The mage also gains divine favor from Mystra, Goddess of Magic, regardless of current deity worshipped, and may use 'Summon Deva' once per day as an ability.
(*phew*)
I hope you have more fun reading that then I did writing it. Maybe later I'll do something about all the AP_SPCL GA_SPPR .2DA ect. ect. I'm not finished compiling the list, however, so you will have to wait.
To some of you, this may seem a little extreme, but it's really not, considering the incredible amounts of xp needed to reach these high levels. After reaching level 40, the xp requirements accelerate far beyond the normal 250000 that was needed between levels 20-40. In fact, to reach level 45, 69000000 xp is needed :)
no joke, these are fair rewards and also subject to change. Once I get my editor working, I'm going to start making my own spells. Just wait, soon you shall see powerful magics such as
Power word Shuttup (silences target with no save)
Power word Fuckyou! (creates a rod 12 inches by 3 inches behind the target which.... uh... inflicts 1d10+10 points of blunt/piercing/both damage per round for 5 turns. Target also drops weapon and becomes paralyzed. Is entitled to a saving throw vs. screw to avoid damage and run away in terror.)
Dislexic's special tea (removes effects of fatigue, increases intelligence of all party members by +2, but lowers constitution by -1 for 6 hours)
Drive by of Doom (a Lincoln town car slowly drives by the target, then gunshots are heard. The car then pulls away...)
Darryl's Pimping Habits (charms an enemy female into changing sides... and taking off her armor. Target is allowed a saving throw vs. screw at -12 penalty with a caster's charisma modifier.)
Orgasm Powder (Genai Lunare's special! Now you can cast it in the privacy of your own home, or during a battle!! An odd, yellowish powder surrounds the target and immediately has a powerful, chemical effect on it. Target is healed 1d12+5 points per round of spell, spell lasts as long as the target can last! Once finished, the target either becomes stunned or unconscious.)
Bigby's Middle Finger (A giant, disembodied hand flips the bird at the opponents.)
And Many Many More!!
One more note. Upon making these changes, I was able to level up Kincaid to 40 mage. This is rather understandable, considering that final, climactic battle with Amellyssan. I mean, that's a rather life-altering experience.
------------------------------
14th day of Alturiak 1370DR
I have often wondered if I was traveling a road that had no turns, no exits. Is this road I travel restricted to a single destination? Would it narrow at a point, so that those walking abreast with me would be left behind? I admit, I had worried about this more before the incident with Amylessan, but I find that it is returning to my mind again. With that comes other worries, some weigh more heavily on me then others.
My companions with whom I have traveled, I remember taking their presence with me for granted. I always thought that they would be there to help or hinder me, it would not matter either way. What mattered was that they were with me as friends. My journeys did not seems so terrible, thanks largely to them. I would hate to think of how it would have been had I traveled alone. I doubt they would have allowed me to refuse their company, regardless, and although I did fear for their safety, I would not deny them the freedom to make their own choice. How could I? To take one's life into one's hands was the very choice I made myself, that day I left Candlekeep.
I left seeking blood. Imoen followed. Jaheira and Khalid soon thereafter, then others. This day, looking back, I can see where I might have brought murder to those who did no deserve it. Back then I took solace in knowing that it was their choice to follow me. Now I do not know how to feel. People have fallen because of my direct involvement, many authorities are yet seeking my head, holding me responsible for acts I do not believe I should be held accountable for.
They can't all be wrong, can they? Did I handle my situations poorly? Were there other choices I did not see? Better choices? Worse yet, if my story is not yet complete, is there more havoc to be wrought because of me? I did not feel guilty before. Remorseful, regretful, but not guilty. Now I do not know. In any case, I shall save those musings for another time.
Jered Kincaid
******************
Chapter 8
Purple stuff and Seeking shadows
Mertallo's Tower. Bryn Shandar.
The two powerful wizards floated, rather then sat, across from each other in a very spacious, very disorganized library of a room. Everywhere tomes lay scattered here and there, taking up every bit of shelf, chair, desk and more then a bit of floor space. The room, which Mertallo jokingly referred to as his 'study' was well illuminated with the same magical ceiling lights that were in the antechamber on the first floor.
"Here... here... and... ah, here." Mertallo mumbled as he pointed to various spots of the map. Decanters filled with purplish liquid floated nearby.
"But not 'there' or 'this spot here'?" Kincaid mused.
The older mage shot him a look. "I'm being serious about this. Look you, I've marked all the locations thus far."
Kincaid shrugged and leaned over the map. "Hmm... should I be counting the coffee stains?"
"No change." The mage grumbled to himself then took a long pull on a decanter floating by. Finished, he let go of it and it continued to float. "No respect."
"It's one of his more endearing qualities." Said the melodious voice of Viconia as the drow cleric appeared in the doorway. Both mages turned to regard to elf slowly. The drow held her head as regally as any queen while the two males inspected her. A silken robe, fluffy in some places, covered in exotic, golden designs. Her silky white hair spilled down around her shapely shoulders, still glistening with moisture from her recent bath. Droplets of water still clung to her ebony skin in some places, and an evil, catlike smile curved her lips as her eyes met Kincaid's. The hapless human stared at her in a trance-like state, his grip on the decanter he held tightened five-fold.
Mertallo looked quickly from one to the other, then waved his hands at Kincaid in an over-emphasized display of drama. "No! Kincaid, look away! Look away while you still can!"
"I... can't... help... it." Kincaid said with a dazed voice. "She's... so... beautiful..."
Viconia was the first to break the spell with a delightful burst of laughter. The two men soon joined in, though Kincaid did not take his eyes off of his alluring lady. The nimble elf hopped from one rare spot of bare flooring to the next until she was behind her floating man. Presently wrapping her arms around his neck (which did not help him concentrate at all) she peered over his should at the map. It showed the city of Bryn Shandar, marked along the outer and suburban areas with chalk and what looked like coffee stains. Then her nose crinkled as she caught the scent of what the two mages were drinking and looked up.
"Hmm? Potions of Genius?" Viconia asked.
Mertallo looked up lazily. "What?"
"She means the drinks." Kincaid explained, then turned to his lover. "Yes actually. But it turns out that up here in this region, they just call it what it is. Liquid codeine or-"
Mertallo raised his decanter and the two mages simultaneously said, "Purple Stuff!"
With that, the two mages chugged back the remains of their respective drinks and left their empty containers floating in the air, to be refilled by floating jugs.
"Alright, back to the subject here. Let's not be sidetracked..." Mertallo mumbled as potion kicked in. "I've already considered all mathematical explanations for these Bhaal-related murders and no such current venture seems logical. However, I do find it interesting that they seem to occur at 12 hour intervals." Mertallo pointed from one mark on the map, to another as he continued. "Day one, noon, here. That was about a tenday ago. Midnight here. Day two, noon, here and next here and here and.."
"Stop!" Kincaid suddenly burst out, leaning over the spread map with sudden interest. "Look.... they are the same. See!"
The two mages looked from the map, to each other in a look of sudden revelation.
Viconia, who had not consumed any 'purple stuff' furrowed her brow in confusion as the blue-haired mage raised his fist into the air. "Yes! See! Within three hundred twenty-five minutes-"
"I suppose you'll do the usual?" Mertallo broke in.
Kincaid blinked. "Have you known me to do any other?"
The drow tentively plucked her lover's decanter out of the air before he reached for it and sniffed it's contents suspiciously.
"Imoen, I'm sure, already knows. Though we must get the components ready- " Kincaid continued to say.
"Impossible! Not until I have more eggs!" The older mage shot back.
Kincaid clenched his fist into the air. "But you know full well that the Ice trolls are too much, don't be foolish."
Mertallo huffed. "His mother did not raise him well."
With that, the two mages suddenly calmed and simultaneously nodded. "On that, we both agree." Kincaid said, rubbing his hands against his temples.
Meanwhile, Viconia stood by gaping. At length, she released the decanter into the air and slapped a hand down on her lover's shoulder. Kincaid jumped, which looked odd, floating as he was, and looked up at the drow in bewilderment, which only served to confuse the elf more.
"If those potions are suppose to make you smarter," Viconia began to say, slowly. "Why do you seem to not already know what a want?"
Kincaid blinked. "What? To know a woman's wants and whims? There's no potion strong enough in all Fearun!"
Mertallo smirked into his decanter, which was now refilled and in his hands but Viconia, less amused, took her hand from her lover's shoulder and brought it up to slap him. With surprising speed, the blue-haired mage captured her wrist and pulled her into his lap, holding her arms in check.
"Well..." He said pleasantly. "I saw that one coming. Come now, my dark, fiery maiden-"
"Right now?" The suddenly docile drow purred.
Kincaid looked to Mertallo, as if to give him a warning look to stave off any comments the witty mage might have, but he was presently taking this opportunity to examine the ceiling. Favoring Viconia with a sardonic look, the blue-haired mage said. "You know full well what I meant."
The dark elf raised a snowy eyebrow, but said nothing as her lover began pointing out locations on the map. "In about five hours, we are going to do some hunting, you and I. You see, Mertallo and I were saying, the murders all happen at 12 hour intervals, for whatever reason. Now, I noticed that the bodies were all discovered at locations around Bryn Shandar. Rather then being just random spots, they fit a pattern, and if you look at the city from this point of view, with the locations marked like this it looks like-"
"The Symbol of Bhaal." Viconia whispered.
Mertallo nodded and Kincaid continued. "The symbol is not complete, more blood must be spilled, and therefore we can count on another murder to happen in about five hours, so long as our killer, or killers, continue to hold to their strict schedule."
The older mage pointed to the southeastern section of Bryn Shandar on the map. "This will most likely be the next spot. Low-rent district, quite the slum. And easy place."
Viconia nodded in understanding, then asked. "Alright, but what about all that other nonsense you two were babbling about. Like the words to an insane bard mind-blasted by illithids."
Kincaid sighed. "Well, Mertallo has this spell here that, well.... I'm not going to go into explanations. It's just a useful spell-"
"That requires eggs." Mertallo huffed in frustration.
The younger mage nodded and leaned back to examine his own favored spot in the ceiling. "Argrymn, a local merchant was to bring in a fresh supply-"
"And he was beset by Ice Trolls, because the cheapskate didn't hire enough cavern guards." Mertallo broke in, obviously disgusted.
Again Kincaid sighed. "So you see, his mother, a merchant herself, did not raise him well, else he would have known the value of keeping a good regimen of guards near."
Viconia frowned, but then nodded in understanding. "I... see... I suppose."
The human stroked her neckline slowly, his expression sobering and his eyes darkening a little. Leaning close, he whispered. "Once more unto the breach, my dark maiden. We'll find some answers, and blood shall be spilled, sweat shall be shed. Not necessarily in that order."
"Tcheh. Five hours..." The dark elf replied, stretching a slender hand to caress Kincaid's cheek. "How to spend the time?"
Mertallo chose that moment to loudly clear his throat. "First, we'll eat. Now come on, the dining room is actually somewhat organized."
As the older mage led the way, Kincaid gave his dark elven companion a helpless look in answer to her pouting expression. "We are, after all, his guests."
Viconia nodded, but said nothing. The two followed several steps behind Mertallo with an arm around each other's waist.
Leaving the study on the opposite side of where they had entered from, the trio turned down a hallway that sported several doors on either side and expanded for some distance. Some doors were open, revealing very large and very disorganized rooms of various purposes. In one room, Viconia saw many cages lining the walls, housing large, insect-like creatures. Likely the local native cave-dwellers. In another room, a floating sphere of water more then six feet in diameter stood, surrounded by several, smaller spheres of varying degrees in color.
Devoid off all objects but for several obsidian statues of nude females was yet another room, one of the half-a-handful of Mertallo's rooms that bore a sense of cleanliness and organization. One statue held a harp that bore a single birds wing as an adornment, also carved from obsidian, while another held an elven scepter to her lips as if preparing to release a spell. A third was of a female elven warrior, twin rapiers in her hands, on one bent with her head down as though she had fought for many hours and was near collapse. A fourth statue looked like a courtesan, a sexy smile played across her lips with her arms hugging herself coyly.
Nudging her lover, the drow drew his attention to the very life-like figures, saying, "Your friend has quite a collection of artwork."
Kincaid smiled. "An appreciation for fine art and beauty is a trait we both share, actually. Which reminds me, I need to paint you."
Viconia chuckled dismissively, but found herself entertaining the notion nonetheless.
Turning down another hall, this one longer then the first, it occurred to the elf that Mertallo's 'home' was far larger on the inside then it was on the outside. The work of extra-planer magic, no doubt. At length, the three arrived at the kitchen and dining room which was, true to the old mage's word, very neat and well organized. The table was clear, save for a white tablecloth. Four elegant oak chairs surrounded the table, and the four corners of the dining room where occupied by small end-tables, each sporting long dinner candles. The adjoining kitchen was surprisingly clean as well. Though there was no doubt in Viconia's mind that the mage used powerful magics to have the area kept so clean, she was impressed.
Beside her, Kincaid whistled. "Why you dog! No man shines up his eating quarters like this unless he's expecting a lady friend to see it."
Mertallo snorted. "Oh hush. Is it so surprising that I eat my meals in this environment?"
The young mage and his drow lover both shared a speculative glance.
"Where you are concerned, my friend, yes." Kincaid answered. "Such a romantic set... you've been having company. My, you're full of surprises."
"Oh whatever! You know me better then that. I've better things to do with my time."
"Nothing could be better." Kincaid scolded. He slipped an arm around Viconia's waist for emphasis, then sniffed the air. "Oh... and that smell... My my, Mertallo. Fond of seafood?"
"Ghah! No respect." The wizard huffed in exasperation.
****************
Athkatla. North of the Docks District.
Arkanis and Yochiko, two of Athkatla's most feared assassins as well as high-ranking agents of the Shadow Thieves, skittered across the streets of this city they lived in as if they were unwelcome guests. Skittering like fleeting shadows from one corner to the next. First Arkanis, then, like an echo or afterthought, Yochiko would follow within a heartbeat. The two passed by guards and soldiers who took no notice, the most alert of which could only detect a subtle break in the wind and nothing more. Blending into the shadows as they were, light itself seemed to refused touching them.
Though the names of these two were sometimes whispered in the streets, it was not often that they would allow themselves to be seen by any but a victim of their handiwork. Yet tonight, the two thieves took more then the necessary precautions for avoiding detection. The unexplained murders which had effected, up to this point, the peasants and occasional merchant on the streets have begun to affect people of all statures in society, indiscriminately. A noble of the house Brega, the very brother of Athkatla's chief inspector, was found dead along with the body of a lowly member of the Twisted Rune the day before. Since then, five Shadow Thieves, all of no mean skill, have also been discovered lying in a circle of tear-shaped blood drops.
Arkanis and Yochiko took more then the necessary precautions.
A pair of Amnish legionary marched down the streets, their halberds over their shoulders and a look of grim determination set on their face. The thieves prudently remained unseen as the soldiers passed them by.
"Like lambs off to the slaughter." Arkanis whispered to his companion.
The slant-eyed assassin responded in a hiss. "Tch. Right now, we're no different."
"Not so. We run from the slaughter."
Yochiko nudged him as he cast a nervous glance around. The street was clear, though that did not help his apprehension. "Then we're rabbits instead."
A pair of shadows flitted through the streets like faint memories. No one took notice. The streets remained as dead with silence as those of Netheril stood now. Guards patrolled areas here and there, creating the illusion of peace in a city that had suddenly become struck by a plague of murders.
***************
Bryn Shandar. Mertallo's Tower.
Soft, pleasant music soothed the three magic-using friends as they dinned on an exquisitely elegant meal. The music did not seem to emanate from any specific point, but neither Kincaid, nor Viconia objected or inquired as to it's origin. Rather, they enjoyed it's wonderfully soothing effects for granted and didn't ask questions. The food had a similar effect. Kincaid was pleasantly surprised to find a large, juicy steak served medium rare on a platter of mixed vegetables, all spiced accordingly. Kincaid and his dark lover both accepted the older mages surprisingly splendid hospitality graciously, and for a moment, Mertallo could almost swear the young Bhaalspawn was being respectful.
"Wait, wait. Don't tell me. You went in with weapons bared and killed them all, eh?" Said Mertallo with a glint in his eye.
Kincaid smiled and spread his hands in a helpless gesture. "Oh, how well you know me."
"Knew would be more apt a word." Viconia remarked to her glass, then looked over it to the older mage to explain. "He actually negotiated in this case. Oh, don't look so disappointed, he did it with prejudice."
Mertallo turned a withering gaze to his old friend. "Is this true?"
"It is. I threatened it... the fish-thing whatever it was. I said I would expose it if it exposed me. Obviously, it was interested in staying alive more so then most opponents I've come across." Said Kincaid.
"In a drow city, one would have to be." Viconia observed before finishing her glass of water. Mertallo could understand well the choice of water over wine that his two guests had made. One simply did not become drunk before a potential battle and, contrary to popular belief, elves were not immune to the effects of alcohol. Some have been known to shrug off it's effects in lesser amounts, and no elf was ever witnessed to have passed out from it, but intoxication effected them was easily as it did humans. In many cases, due to an elf's smaller size, more easily.
With that, the cleric rose and excused herself to prepare for the hunt ahead. Kincaid watched her go, his eyes lingered for several moments on the sway of her hips. With a sigh, he turned back to his food to find Mertallo studying him, his chin resting on one palm.
"An interesting choice of companionship. Discreet, smart and incredibly wise. More then a little seductive..." He let the last thought hang suggestively.
"Seductive?" Kincaid echoed. "Hm. True enough. It's no magical spell that she has me under."
Mertallo nodded once but his expression did not change. "Don't misunderstand me. As long as you speak for her, she's welcome in my home, regardless of race. I only am concerned-"
"That she might have me under her control." The mage finished with a smile, lifting a healthy chunk of meat to his lips. "Mmm. Delicious. You know, my old friend, I put it to you again. To produce such wonderfully good food, you must have been making good use of it. The sweet air, the music... is this a regular retreat for the women of Bryn Shandar?"
"You didn't answer me." Mertallo said, unblinking and undeterred.
"You asked no question." Kincaid returned, his voice suddenly hard and his gaze narrow. "You insinuated malice on the part of my companion. Since we are old friends, I'll let that pass." Mertallo nodded and indicated for him to continue, which he did with a sigh. "If you had asked me but a year ago if I trusted her... m answer would have been different. But now there can be no other. There is no intrigue between her and I, my old friend. No games, not any more at least. Just a great deal of history... and many changes. For both of us, yes, there have been changes. I won't go into details, but I will tell you that she is not the woman I once knew. She's... nothing like the drow, not anymore." The mage paused. "If you want to know more, why not ask her?"
The wizard regarded his guest silently for a moment, then raised his glass to him and drank. "I just may. Now, on to our preparations."
****************
Bryn Shandar. The Slums.
Merrok grumbled nervously under his breath. All light, save for that from the stars, had fled from his surroundings several minutes ago and he, and middle-aged man with terrible dark vision, had to make with way at a crawling pace. The streets were customarily quiet. After all, a city that housed mostly criminals would not be known for its great social behavior. Nonetheless, the peasant man was unnerved.
The buildings presented themselves only as great, hulking shadows, smaller objects were equally vague to Merrok's sight. One shadow, interestingly enough, moved from when he saw it last. The peasant gulped nervously and peered at it, unable to make out what it was in his near- sightedness. After a moment's hesitation, the man moved on, this time more warily.
The 'shadow' watched the peasant stumble blindly along his path, a stone shortblade in his hand. With the grace of a cat, the assassin stalked after his prey. This one would be too easy to kill, but it had to be done. The circle of murder had to be complete.
As the assassin neared his intended victim, he could not shake the feeling that he was being watched. Looking around, even his trained sight could reveal nothing. The assassin shrugged and prepared to strike, whispering, "Murder..."
"Comes to those who expect it least." Merrok replied, turning around to face his executioner.
The assassin started in surprise as his quarry shifted and stood strait, all evidence of near-sightedness and clumsiness gone. With a sudden movement, the killer lunged, stone blade leading, intending to plunge the weapon into the peasant's heart before he proved dangerous. To his surprise, the 'peasant sidestepped the attack and countered with a powerful chest hit with a quarterstaff that had not been in his hands a moment before.
The assassin stumbled back, coughing for air and struggling against the unnatural, stinging cold he suddenly felt.
"Blast. What are you?" He spat.
The 'peasant's' illusionary for melted away within moments. In his place stood a tall, well-built man with sharp features, piercing blue eyes and strangely dark blue hair. Jered Kincaid smiled pleasantly and bowed at the waist.
The assassin's eyes widened in recognition for but a moment. "It's you... Survivor." He hissed. Then his eyes narrowed dangerously. He reached into one of the folds of his tunic and drew out what looked like a glass orb about two inches in diameter.
Kincaid took no chances and made a single motion with his hand. Ten small glowing missiles burst forth suddenly and unerringly pelted the assassin, hurling him back several meters. The orb fell from his hand but, unfortunately, it released a spell as it hit the cobblestone and burst. A crimson cloud expanded from it's shattered pieces and rose to envelope the human.
This time it was Kincaid's eyes that widened and he jumped back, but the blood-cloud followed. Quickly, he made another gesture with his hand, this one meant to deaden all magic within the area and was surprised to find nothing happen. The cloud overtook him, even before he could scream out in protest and held him there as surely as if he were frozen in a giant cube of ice. His muscles would not respond to his commands, even worse, his innate magical abilities would not come forth.
The assassin rose and dusted himself off. Oddly enough, he seemed healthier, healed even. Regeneration of some sort, Kincaid though.
"We knew you would take an active hand in this soon. We were not unprepared, Bhaalspawn." He said coldly as he stalked forth, his ritualistic stone blade once again ready.
Kincaid's eyes narrowed, which was about the only thing he could do. Although he could understand how a specialized spell, directed solely at him, would succeed in rendering him immobile, he could not understand how it could also block his magic. In more then one way it did just that. Kincaid was a very intelligent mage, and very thoughtful. Always he had contingency spells in place should he be caught be surprise or some other unforeseen circumstance. One such spell was designed to create a duplicate of him, turn him invisible and render him immune to all magical weapons in the event that he should be rendered helpless. But to his frustration and amazement, the spell would not go off!
The assassin raised his obsidian blade and prepared to strike. "Fitting, it is, that you should fall to this-- AARGH!" He suddenly screamed as something bit deeply into his leg. Looking down and to the left he saw an enormous spider making a meal of his calve. Growling in pain, he stabbed at the creature, only to see it phase and disappear before his blade could reach it.
The real attack, however, came from the right. Distracted as he was, the assassin failed to notice the flail, or the drow who held it, that swung hard into his side.
"Vith'os!" Viconia shouted triumphantly.
The man landed on the ground like a discarded doll. He struggled, but could barely sit up, groaning from the agony the poison and acid wrought, battling his own regeneration and winning. He opened his eyes to find a most frightening image. But then, scant few human males find the sight of a battle-ready drow anything less then fear-inspiring. "You..." He struggled to gasp.
The drow paid him no heed, tracing a hand across her lover's jaw line in concern as she examined the localized cloud that held him. Before her eyes, it began to dissipate and bleed into the air around it. She breathed a sigh of relief, cautiously, and turned a cold, murderous gaze on the assassin. He reached to unsheathe a sword from his scabbard but Kitthix was there to intervene, taking a healthy bite out of his hand.
Again he screamed, again he tried to strike the spider, again it phased out of existence.
The man in dark clothing raised his eyes to meet those of the drow as she raised her deadly weapon for one final blow.
"Kill me." He hissed defiantly. "I'll never tell you anything."
"Wrong." She whispered with unnerving calm. "You will tell us everything."
With that, the Flail of Ages came down hard, with all the enhanced strength of the drow cleric behind it. Briefly, the assassin wondered what hit his head harder, the flail or the ground. He never lived long enough to figure it out.
-----------------------------
On with the morbid, bloody and head-knocking-around. I guess you get this way if you see Blade 2 and play Torment closely together. The images of blood and violence you get from Blade, mixed with having that floating skull follow you around... hell, I don't know. What does influence me? Maybe it's these pills. Or that purple stuff... Purrrrrrpluullllll (Flow as I do- Wave 'em side to side)
Ah. I don't know where that came from, sorry. Let me turn the radio off. But then, that gets me to thinking. All these tea-related jumbles of nonsense that I write up... can any of you really follow along what I'm saying? I mean, I do TRY to put in enough sentences as to convey the thought, but I do realize that not everybody has an intelligence rating of 19 (You get a +1 to intelligence for choosing the Author kit) so I'd imagine several of you are staring at your screens going... Huh?!
I pity you.
Scented candles are an effective form of aromatherapy. I'm burning a black cherry one now. It's soothing. It also helps mask the stench you get when you live in an un-air-conditioned room in South Texas. Not a pleasant experience, mind. Or smell, mind. However, I must bring up a topic right here and right now that I simply cannot hold off for another day. I know I was going to but... well, I simply must say it. It might sound like a rant but either bear with me or scroll down.
Issue: Fresh lemons vs. Rotten Lemons.
I know I haven't written a full-fledged lemon yet, but I feel obligated to say this, nonetheless. I cannot help but feel disappointed with some of what I'm reading. I mean... plausibility, someone. One can only fully enjoy a story, a lemon especially, if one can believe in it. For that, we cannot have dialog (I must gripe about the dialog) that is simply never said in real life, or even fantasy life.
Example, martial arts setting:
Woman: I noticed you used a move against your other opponents, but not me, why?
Man: Because of your breasts.
Woman: Oh.. I see.
How many of you hear this quite often while touring martial arts competitions? If so, how often does it lead to sex? If the answer is "quite often" on both accounts, I'd very much like to know where you live. Now, let's step back into reality for a moment and take a better look on how that dialog might have gone with a bit of subtlety.
Woman: You're holding back. I've seen you use moves on others you haven't tried against me.
Man: Honestly? I.. uh. I just don't want to hurt you.
Woman: Oh? .... that's sweet.
Now, regardless of what the woman says, even if she thinks the guy's sexist, she'll like that fact that he's showing her respect in his own way. I know that this particular dialog may not happen, in all likelihood, but comparing it to the one above, it definitely has more plausibility. Thank you for your time. More on this subject during future chapters.