Disclaimer: Go into your config.sys file and enter the command line User equals IDtenT. If performed correctly, it will give the computer a good idea as to what the real problem is.
(User = ID10T)
Dislexic: Before I even got reviews on my last chapter, this one is already on the drawing board.
Irenicus: Coming back with a vengeance, aren't we?
Dislexic: Must be the rum. For those of you not following, I've had some pretty huge gaps in between my chapters here. This last gap lasted about two or two and a half months. That's pretty sad, isn't it? All that time going by, Balduar's Gate becoming less popular with the coming of newer and shinier PC games. And here we have me, little author here, not updating his novel.
Irenicus: Judas!
Dislexic: Yes indeed! Minor concerns such as work, food and living have pushed aside my much greater importance of story writing. But fear not, my two readers, for now that the dust has settled in my hectic life I have returned to the keyboard.
Irenicus: Returned, yes, but changed as I can see. What happened to your tea?
Dislexic: I don't have a proper tea kettle I'm afraid. Until I can afford one, I'll have to settle with the rum.
Irenicus: Ghah. Kincaid never drank so much.
Dislexic: That's because the lucky bastard probably gets a review once in a while, unlike me. Save, of course, for that it being by that wonderful Kaltia. I'd just like to say "Thank you" for reading this fanfic once in a while.
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Within without, evermore
with what is who we are
In among, all around, ever near and far
We see we tell we hear and feel,
and so we come to know
Our minds like flowers in sunlight
yearning then to grow.
We are, we are, we must become
we are who we chose to be,
But choices in our shortened lives
are ne're what at first they seem.
We cry, we mourn, our eyes run dry
we discern no more, truth from lie
Until the day we justify
the blood spilled in the streets.
Our blades, our blades, by themselves are own
our will to guide them far since flown.
And evermore we shield ourselves,
lest the seeds of death be sown.
But wary be to all who shield themselves in times of war
For blind blades spill blood, too true
yet know not what they fight there for.
Jered Kincaid
The time past reckoning
1370 DR
*****************
Chapter 12
Rook to King's Bishop.
They say that some rangers can place their ear to the ground and hear the coming of troops of war. They say that some druids can smell the coming of a storm. They say that a wizard can sense weather or not a spell will fail before it ever gives any indication of doing so. Perhaps Waterdeep would have done well to heed the advice of such wizards, druids and rangers. It could have saved them. Or perhaps it was that these precognitive abilities did not serve in any way, for there was no warning when the time came. As a thief in the night, the drow slipped into the Jewel of the North.
The first to die was a young man named Garbien Droshier. It was his first year out of the academy, and with his halberd tightly clenched in his hands he was determined not to let down his superiors. As the night waned on, Garbien whistled to pass the time, he also practiced what skills he had learned with his weapon. Still, it was only a matter of time before his thoughts turned towards a little-known tavern girl who catered to the patrons of the Slaking Sailor, one of the newer taverns in the dock ward. His errant mind was fully occupied on the thought of her full bosom when he noticed an odd, cold feeling in his chest.
It had been a cruel cut, one right where the windpipe meets the lungs. The pain lasted long, but the boy could hardly sound an alarm.
However, the drow were not so foolish as to supply pour out onto the streets and kill indiscriminately. Only those who where in their way were slaughtered. Their bodies disintegrated by the drow mages. Soon thereafter, the wind took away the ashes.
The Harlimberg estate was a formidable fortress where upper-class housing was concerned. It sported a twenty-foot high fence with walls as smooth as glass. There were always guards on the watch, and they were well-paid so as to not fall asleep in the night. The master of the guard was a seasoned adventurer by the name of Craig Dowrenford. A master with the longsword who taught his subordinates well for no less then two hours every day, this constant vigil was maintained at the Harlimberg estate because it was Lord Riginald Harlimberg's edict. Even within the safety of the walls of Waterdeep, his home was his castle, and he would have it defended as such.
The Harlimberg estate fell to the drow in about ten minutes.
*****************
Vishiree's high-heeled boots made not a sound on the polished marble floor of the exquisite mansion. With her flowing velvet robes, she appeared to be more of a solid shadow then the ambitious dark elf cleric she was. Her red eyes glinted with the prospect of holding one of the most powerful "Human" settlements under the heel of her boot.
Her soldiers had done well to keep from being seen. Despite their versatility, the drow would be no match against a well-prepared waterdhavian defense. Timing was critical. The city was covered with remote alert beacons, especially in it's underground, and bypassing them had been no easy task, not even for he power of Lloth. Mystra's power was great as well, and it was her servant, Khelben "Blackstaff" Arunsun who had put them in place. Like his goddess, he was no mean power to trifle with.
Vishiree enjoyed an unpleasant smile at the thought of bringing him down. Blackstaff, with all his power and his god-daughter wench by his side would fall before her, Vishiree the daughter of the twelfth house of Ched Nesan. Before Lloth. Mystra herself, so haughty and proud, being the being of pure magical energy will become a slave to the queen of spiders. And Vishiree would be the one to make the move.
"I estimate another twelve hours before we are discovered." Said Drieza's lovely voice when Vishiree came close. Drieza was dressed in white. Her gown was enamored with jewels and designs of beautiful roses. The contrast between the colors of her dress, and the darkness of her blue-black skin was somewhat breathtaking.
Vishiree glared disapprovingly at her subordinate's attire.
"Is that a little optimistic?"
Drieza shrugged her shapely shoulders. "What do you think? I've seen this sort of thing before. The missing bodies of the ones we killed will lead to a search, then more searching, then magical scrutiny. At best…. Seven hours, and worst…. Days.
Vishiree nodded towards the window. "And our security?"
"In place."
"The other points secured as well?"
"I've received messages from the other teams, yes. So far so good. Waterdeep's military academy and soldier barracks are within easy striking distance."
The conquering drow priestess of Lloth moved towards the window, taking a moment to gaze upon the splendor of the human city. To her eyes, the most valued sculpture, the most prized jewel was nothing more then the work of a child - flawed, without perfection and deserving of destruction.
The moment passed, Vishiree once again regarded her lieutenant. "And you? What's the occasion?"
Drieza made a sweeping bow. Her elaborate and beautiful gown flowed in the air as though it were a part of it. "This was in the wardrobe. Don't you think it's beautiful?"
The priestess scoffed. "That's most unbecoming of you, Drieza. You should concern your mind with more important matters?"
Drieza's eyes narrowed in a way that betrayed nothing. Her smile tightened slowly. "Harsh words coming from someone wearing sweaty robes and feet that haven't seen fresh air for a tenday." Drieza took the opportunity to gaze into a nearby wall-hanging mirror. "The fabric is really quite something. These humans are not without their graces."
"I would be more guarded about my thoughts if I were you, Drieza of no house worth mentioning."
The exotic woman in white did not seem at all phased by the venomous insult. "Eleven hours, thirty minutes, Mistress. I'm sure we have more important matters to get to."
"Indeed. I was just thinking about our blue-haired friend. He shouldn't be too far now, hmm?"
Drieza nodded.
Vishiree smiled unpleasantly. "Let's make sure this little welcoming of yours works to perfection. I don't want any unknown factors interfering."
"I'll see to it myself." In truth, Drieza was more interested in departing her surly Mistress' company then she was in arranging for the capture of Jered Kincaid. Vishiree knew nothing of pleasure, carnal or otherwise. She was only interested in power and glory.
A catlike smile, most becoming of her took form on Drieza's lips. Save for the normal, foreseeable differences that had occurred, everything had proceeded according to plan. This afforded Drieza more then enough breathing room to set about her own personal plans.
That catlike smile took a firmer hold.
************
The Yawning Portal.
Waterdeep.
There are few taverns strewn about the wondrous waterdhavian city that had as much of a reputation as the Yawning Portal. Although the tavern itself was average by the standards of a pub, stocked with mostly local favorites with such specialties as Elverquisst, and lately Rugeon blue, there are still stories of how this tavern played a pinnacle role during the Times of Troubles. Even after the repair work, anyone could note the telltale signs of its involvement.
This night was colder then what could be considered normal. Fewer patrons left the comfort of their dwellings to bask in the aroma of spilled ale this night. Perhaps it was the biting cold, or the howling that went with it. Whatever the case, Waterdeep was most unwelcoming.
"So did ye hear about Saradush? Heard a giant the size of a tower just tore it up like it was nothing. The whole city." Kendel's attempt at small talk with Minera, the tavern wench met with more success this night then previously.
The waiflike brunette shrugged once before handing the leather-clad ranger his mug.
Kendel grinned before taking a sip. "One of these days you'll speak to me."
Minera responded with a raised eyebrow and the faintest hint of a smile. She actually enjoyed this game they played, and was not averse to sharing his company every now and then, but enjoyed playing hard to get more so.
"In fact, I'm willing to bet that before my days on this earth are done, you'll share a drink with me." Kendel pressed, his charming smile in place.
Minera closed her eyes and tuned away. Her smile had grown, and she did not want him to see it.
The rugged ranger closed his eyes as he sampled the relaxing brew. Reports had reached his ears that had far outweighed what he had heard of Saradush. Calimport had shown more then the usual amounts of dead bodies, quite a feat at that. The unruly southern city was well-known for its high crime rate.
The sound of a chair being knocked over opened his eyes quickly enough. No one had been near that chair, it looked as though it had just fallen over on it's own. Kendel frowned, but would not let this detract him from his train of thoughts. There were more important things to worry about.
Naturally, he did not notice the invisible drow who had knocked the chair over - the drow who was making his way toward the back of the tavern. Towards the hidden portal that had made this dive so infamous,
**********
Waterdeep.
The front gates.
The three companions were not bothered overmuch on their way inside the city. The guards only gave them a quick search and let them continue. Mertallo wasted no time in abandoning the other two to get in contact with some of his old friends. He promised to meet them that night with whatever news he could get.
"Well… we could try shopping?" Kincaid nudged his lover, in an attempt to cheer her up. Viconia had been mostly silent this day, much like he had been for the last three.
"Hmph. I doubt they have anything in my color."
Kincaid chuckled. "Surely no. Not for one with such pale skin and raven black hair. Such a rarity in these parts, it is."
The elf smirked. "A mask, my love. Suppose a wizard sniffs me out and dispels your little cantrip work, hm? Whet then?"
"Pierce magic, then Greater Malison, then Flame Arrow on the wizard, Improved Invisibility on yourself, and a quick, hopeful prayer for my own ass."
That made the dark elf laugh. "You're sweet, but too merciful for your own good. Why not summon a Planatar? Or Dragon's breath?"
"Ghah! Hello?!" Kincaid nudged her and pointed to the right. "See yon tavern? That's one of the best in the city! Ao would never forgive if I laid waste to such a fine assortment of brew."
"Poisoned, no doubt."
"You're far too pessimistic."
"One of us has to be." Viconia said. Her eyes narrowed in suspicion at the passerby peasants. To her, they would always be a possible threat. Though they saw her as a moon elf, because of Jered's magic, Viconia chose to take no risks.
Her pale hand reached out to grip his. "How's your head?"
Jered smiled wearily. "Is it obvious?"
"Perhaps more so to me."
"Hm. I can deal with it. But it…. It has intensified."
Viconia frowned. It worried her more then she cared to admit. Normally it would not have crossed her mind twice, but it all seemed too coincidental. Kincaid's sudden lack of magical power during their encounter in Bryn Shandar, the knowledge their enemies seemed to know of them and now this. It reminded her of something she learned about when she was young. The best way to wear down a large, powerful force was with subtlety.
Kincaid let out a little groan.
"What is it?"
He brushed away his shining dark blue hair with one shaky hand. "I feel a pull; it's strong. Or should I say stronger? It's so gradual; I didn't feel it until now."
Viconia looked around. Her sharp elven eyes strained to find something. When they did not, they returned to her lover. "Can we trace it?"
Kincaid paused, then nodded. "Help me walk. It's…. difficult."
The wizard leaned heavily upon the slender drow, and the going was somewhat slow. Once again, Viconia was thankful for the enchantment spell that enhanced her strength; she was not wearing her yeti-skin gauntlets.
"It's strong, almost tangible." The wizard murmured. Speaking had become difficult for him, the closer they got.
It must have seamed odd - A tall, built man placing most of his weight on a pale, lightweight moon elf, pausing here and there to get their bearings and changing course. Their path took from Addler lane, through the sea ward, back the way they came from, and finally dead in the middle of the Castle District.
This worried the both of them. The castle district was the center of Waterdeep when it came to who was in charge. Caste Waterdeep, Blackstaff tower, Piegeiron's Palace to name a few were located closely in this one section.
"Viconia!" Kincaid said suddenly, his hand gripped her shoulder tightly in a sense of urgency.
"What is it?" She said.
"We should… go back." His voice sounded very far away now.
Viconia was not ready to give up, not when they were so close to their quarry. "Are we close, can you feel where it is?"
The wizard shook his head. His tone sounded odd, as if he had gone deaf and could not modulate his voice properly. "You don't understand. I can't see you. I can't even feel you anymore. This was a bad idea."
Kincaid stumbled and fell to his knees. His hands went to his head and even as Viconia kneeled to help him, her hands alit with healing fire, he blacked out. Then he was gone.
The drow's eyes widened in shock and horror, her teeth gritted in defiance as her eyes burned holes in the ground where he had just fallen and subsequently disappeared. Disappeared! There was no trace of him. It was as if he had been an image dispelled by the sun's rays like a fleeting shadow.
Franticly the elf searched the ground for some signs, some magical telltale trace of his disappearance. Her black hands felt the ground intently. Black! When Kincaid disappeared, his enchantment on her was dispelled! Viconia now bore her true form, that of a drow.
Viconia heart jumped, and her eyes made a quick scan. Standing around her were people, staring at her. Many people. People who would not simply stand by for long.
***********
Waterdeep.
Somewhere else
All things considered, the day had gone better then planned. True, not all of Mertallo's old friends were in town, or in good health, or living, but several were. Danilo Thann had been helpful, more or less, but Ragnet Amcathran had been unavailable. This was most inconvenient. The trail they had followed brought them to this point, thus far. While the old mage had not been expecting to find a lot of answers down that venue, he had at least hoped to find some clues.
All that Mertallo knew of Ragnet, he learned from Danilo, for he never really met the man in person. To be truthful, he only happened to know Danilo through Khelben, "Blackstaff" Arunsun, a friend of his whom he had not seen or heard from ever since his travels to the north. Mertallo made a mental note to check in on his old friend as soon as time permitted. For the least of reasons, he should be informed of what was happening.
Then he caught sight of him. Danilo, that is. "There you are!"
The bard spun on heel at the mage's voice. "By Malliki! How you do sound like my uncle. A scary thought, that. Though I'd thank you not to mention it to him—"
"You're friend's gone."
Danilo blinked. "Ragnet?"
"The same. When's the last time you saw him."
The blond-haired noble had to think about that one for a good moment or two. "Now that it occurs to me, it must have been…. Oh…. A tenday at least since I saw him last. Not that I've been staying in one place too long, mind you, so I took no note of his comings and goings."
Mertallo gritted his teeth in frustration quietly.
"Well, you know how Ragnet is. I'm sure he's just lost in some Calimshite harem, trying desperately to find his way home." Danillo quipped, his usual, public façade taking over.
"I suspect your friend is trying to escape wherever he is, that much I'm sure of." Mertallo said soberingly enough, turned and started in the direction of the Castle Ward.
"Now hold it there." The bard said and he started after him. "You show up in town after years of being gone, off in one of the coldest nine hells there are, ask to see someone I know personally you've never met with the look of "Doom is coming, run while you can" etched into your wrinkled face" – Mertallo smiled at that thought, despite himself – "And now he shows up missing, the same look on your face, mind you…. Am I not getting something?"
"What was your first clue?"
Danilo pursed his lips as he thought of a witty remark, Mertallo beat him to it. "the look of coming doom? Yes, well there's no reason for me to repeat myself. I'm going to see your uncle, come along and we'll all discuss it there. I'll fill you in with what I can on the way."
So with a quickening in his step, Mertallo did just that. The bard grew more and more silent with each sentence. At first making acknowledging inane little noises, then nothing as it became clearer to the usually cheerful man how grave the situation was. To him, it was as if he were being informed that the world was going to end in half-an-hour.
Mertallo continued walking and talking quickly enough to draw more then the needed amount of attention. For this, the mage seemed to care not. They were not more then five blocks from Blackstaff tower when they saw it coming: An angry mob chasing a no less angry drow female, who turned occasionally to hurl a spell or dodge a thrown item. Blood streaked from her cheek and stained a few places on her matted white hair.
Mertallo gasped, only slightly more shocked then his blond companion. "Viconia? What in the nine hells…?"
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(Next chapter, detailed instructions on how to alter BG2 WITHOUT a java editor! And…. Some more progression on the story. Yeah, that too.)
I'll grant that most people don't write books while at work. Well… I do! Ha! I'm awesome. Check this out, my cube has it all. A chair, a computer, a place to make tea! I'm set!
Man, I hate working here, though. Sure, it makes me feel like a badass computer guru, but it depresses me to know how many computer users out there are complete idiots!
Yeah, you've guessed it, I work in tech support now. I won't tell you where I work; I'll only give you a hint, saying it's a four-letter work that rhymes with HELL.
The job has its perks, though. The total lack of a dress code gives one the privilege to show up in boxers and a tie (nothing else) and fit in perfectly. Sure, I stand out from the other techs; I haven't dyed my hair or pierced my body with glowing hot pokers, but no one gives me any flak.
Ok, you don't care, I know. I know what you're reading this section for anyway (not really, but I'll guess). The Rant. Here it comes:
Rant #2: Loss of the Lemons.
LEMONS! Those sweet-tasty-delicious lovingly written pieces of literature that serve the purpose of confirming to you that there really are people out there just as perverted as you (sicko). We all have our reasons for reading them. In the end, it's all the same thing. We play a game, read a book, or play another game and while we do so, the thought comes to mind "Man… Lulu is one hot chick." And of course you're right. She is! I won't go into details with the many things I'd do to her for hours on end if I ever got my hands on her (all three of her! ;-) )
So the next step comes into place: Finding the lemon! You look for a story where you can read of what someone ELSE had thought about, written down, and posted up regarding Lulu's delectable, well-endowed body. Then you read, you perspire, and finally go grab a paper towel and make a quick trip to the bathroom to clean up.
We've all been there. And weather you admit it or not, we've all done it. I mean, This is Lulu, we're talking about, the very essence of sensuality with quite a bit of maturity to boot. Yuna just doesn't stand a chance, and Rikku's eyes freak me out. Besides (as a friend of mine pointed out not too long ago) She's too much like Yuffie. STEAL MY MATERIA, DIDJA BITCH?!?!
But back to the subject at hand. These lemons served a good, valuable purpose for the sickly minded (SM) and Hormonally Over-Reactive Naturalistic Yeoman (HORNY). Once this is known to the powers that be, the lemons are taken away!
DAMN! I, personally was about to write one or two myself. Just imagine… the steamy romantic scenes between Kincaid and Viconia will never be revealed to my faithful reader(s). Nor will this wonderful Link/Ruto fic I've been fantasizing about for some time.
This is to say nothing about the thousands of Me/Lulu stories I've thought up. Or even better, Lulu/Rinoa/Quistis/Me/More Lulu/Aries ultimate lemon marathon!
Hehe, that would have been cool.
DAMN FANFICTIO.NET for their hatred of lemons! Where are they being posted now that they're gone from here? Huh? And I'm not talking about adult stories, they suck. I'm talking about lemons made from game characters. The best lemons there are!
Okay, my rant is going on just a but too long, but that's understandable, really, considering how much I miss them. So as I drink my tea with lemon juice, I give a moment of silence for all those lost stories of………. Stuff, never to be read again. Lemon, my friend, here's to you.