29. Art Terminates Life

Minsc laughed jovially. "Boo says you are all most welcome friends in butt-kicking this day and with paladins and clerics and fighters and druids and thiefves and bards kicking the same evil backsides the Minsc does, evil will be very sore indeed! Evil will have large red welts over its bottom, and evil will apply creams to its tender, bruised nethers, only to find the forces of righteousness have replaced its cream with more boots! And then evil's bum will really hurt and..."

The other members were all looking dumbfounded at Minsc as he strung the uncharacteristically long and complicated but yet somehow very characteristic quote together. They had decided on a southerly course to reach the gnoll stronghold, and were wandering through wooded glasslands which were starting to give way to more parched, arid areas. As they came around the side of a rock outcropping, their concentration shifted to a figure on the path in front of them. He was dressed in gaudy, pompous clothing that screamed 'artist' and indeed seemed to be nearing completion of an admittedly well-crafted statue of an exceedingly beautiful elven woman. The subject, however, was not present, much to Garrick's voiced dismay.

"Ahh, beauteous creature!" the lovestruck young sculptor sighed as he worked upon the statue's face and stared into it. "Never should I have stolen these emeralds, but there was nothing else that would capture the majesty of thing eyes! I did what must be done, for I have left my shop, forgotten all my commission, and spent all that I had. I must complete thee!"

"This must be that Prism character we heard about in town," Jaheira whispered to Onyx and Khalid, who nodded. "The one who stole the two emeralds."

"Wait, there is someone here!" Prism cried when he noticed them. "Who are you! 'Twas that relentless Greywolf who sent you, wasn't it?"

"Ooh, Boo," Minsc muttered under his breath, "Remember that mean Greywolf man? It's good we found this man first, Greywolf had the Stench of Evil about him!"

Onyx listened to Minsc and nodded. "Actually," he spoke to Prism, "He did not, but we...have similar goals, I imagine. I firstly congratulate you on this exceedingly beautiful sculpture here..." Prism beamed and gazed upon his statue again.

"Bah!" Viconia scowled crossly while he admired the statue, folding her hands over the chest armored in the ankheg mail, "She's to...delicate! Surely such a pixie is not to the tastes of such a strong warrior! Perhaps I misjudged you, jaluk ." Jaheira smirked and nodded along, then angrily whapped Khalid on the shoulder when she caught him looking slackjawed at the statue. Khalid blushed deeply and pretended to admire his own boots. Garrick simply kept staring slackjawed.

"Don't drool, Garry!" Imoen giggled, and the bard blushed and closed his mouth.

Onyx gritted his teeth with a degree of chagrin, and conitnued. "Good sir Prism, I'm afraid that stealing emeralds simply won't do. As dear as you hold you art so I do my own creed, and must return them to their rightful owner, and I'm afraid you are wanted…back in town. Please come with me, good artist, and I'll see you come to no harm."

"You'll not take me yet, I beseech thee!" Prism cried and clutched the statue as if it might come to life and protect him. "I admit I stole the gems, but better they are the eyes of a work o' love than a fat woman's tawdry trinket. I will give you all else that is mine, if you would but forget my crime."

"It IS quite a marvelous work!" Garrick piped up unhelpfully, causing everyone to sigh. "Why, the curve of the lips, the shoulders, and especially the..."

"Prism, regardles of whether I agree with you, aesthetically," Onyx nodded as he interrupted Garrick, "That does not give you the right to..."

"Oh please!" Prism cried, "I am but a few minutes from completion, and I cannot run from this place until my task is done. I have been using potions of speed to aid my work, and have not slept for days. She is beautiful, is she not? 'Tis a monument to my foolishness. I saw her but once, on the outskirts of Evereska, and said nothing. I let thee pass from mine eyes, and mine heart hath cursed me for it!"

Garrick was listening to the story intently, seemingly enrapt and wanting to memorize the tale for his own later retelling, but the others were looking a bit bored. They snapped to attention, however, when a large, armored figure strode up from the opposite direction they'd come. "It is the mean man Greywolf!" Minsc cried.

"I have come for you, Prism!" Greywolf bellowed. His face was stern and old and scarred, his hair metallic grey. He looked to have seen - and won- many, many battles, and held an obviously enchanted, jewel-pommeled sword that had probably been in his hand for many of them.

"No! Not yet!" Prism cried helplessly. "My work is nearly done! Please, I implore you!"

"Your sentiment is wasted on me, fool!" the man scoffed. "You are but gold in my purse. Do you make your situation worse by hiring help to protect you? Who are you fools?"

"We," Onyx scowled at Greywolf, "Are in charge of this situation now. We found Prism first and mean to see him to the authorities. Peacefully."

"See HIM to the authorities," Greyworlf snickered, "Ah, forgetful little tin-can-man, the bounty was not for him, but the emeralds. What happens to him is…at the finder's discretion."

Greywolf rested his hand on his sword. Then, as he looked over Onyx disdainfully, suddenly his eyes bugged out. "Wait!" he shouted and pointed at Imoen. "I recognize you! It was you that stole a bounty rightfully mine! Prism will live a moment longer while I kill the lot of you!"

"What are you talking about!?" Onyx cried, truly mystified, for it was of course Jade's physical description that Greywof was putting to Imoen. But this misled bounty hunter with his magical sword was charging the paladin nonetheless, meaning to decapitate first and ask questions later, or more likely not at all.

Onyx brought his shield up to bock the blow, but went stumbling back from Greywolf's sheer might. Khalid began to draw his sword but Greyworld swung at him, hitting him hard across the side of the helmet and sending him to the ground. Imoen drew her short bow but couldn't get a shot in around Onyx, and Jaheira and Viconia began casting. Minsc roared and charged Greywolf with his two-handed sword held high, but the fierce bountyhunter used his shield to block the downward swing as it came, seeming unfazed by the enormous strength behind Minsc's blow, and then skewered the ranger through the chest with his shimmering sword, then kicked him off the blade and to the ground.

Imoen and Garrick sent an arrow and a bolt flying at the bounty hunter, who all but failed to notice each as they lodged in his leathered chest, even as they drew blood. Onyx made another swing but Greywolf expertly parried it and made a stab of his own. Onyx barely managed to bring his shield in the way, but Greywolf quickly swung again low; hitting the inside of his knee with his sword and then sweeping his other foot with his boot. The sword didn't pierce his armor leggings, but his was tripped and went clanging to the ground. As another of Imoen's arrows glanced off his helmet, Greywolf turned to face Jaheira and Viconia as their spells completed, sending a yellow haze over and calling small vines up around his feet, neither of which seemed to faze him as he charged. He swung down at Jaheira, who tried to block with her quarterstaff, only to have it knocked from her hands, and his sword sliced into her armor and left a deep gash between her breasts. He kicked her in the stomach and sent her falling while Viconia swung Bassilus's hammer at him. He feigned aside, chuckling, and then stabbed low on her right side before she could get her shield over. The ankheg plate kept her from being impaled, but his sword came up half-circle whizzing around her armor, and opened her throat. His boot knocked out her leg and sent her to all fours.

An arrow sank into his stomach, and grimacing, he looked up to face Imoen and Garrick, his face snarling with rage. Garrick's knees knocked, and instead of loading a bolt, firing a spell, or drawing a sword, he spun on one heel and dashed off, singing, "Brave, brave sir Garrick, sir Garrick led the way! Brave brave, Sir Garrick, sir Garrick ran away!"

"Uh..oh" Imoen gasped. She barely had taken to drop her bow and draw the hobgoblin Zordal's magical shortsword, which whistled musically as she swung it up to parry Greyworlf's sword. She cried as he easily knocked it out of her hand, probably breaking her small wrist, and she dodged his next swipe, but then he caught her in the jaw with a swing of his shield, and she went sprawling to the ground.

Behind him, Onyx rose, wincing, his knee screaming with pain and his leg twisted at an unnatural angle. He reached down, touching it, feeling it heal, and rising again, and felt a moment of calm though the battle was not over. He saw Greyworlf bringing his sword down upon a sprawled Imoen, surely to chop her in half right through her narrow waist, and everything went red. The next thing he knew he had his feet off the ground, and bare hands around Greywolf, throttling and tackling him and sending them both flying over Imoen and sprawling to the ground.

Greywolf's sword went clattering across the stones as he fell under Onyx's weight, but he reached behind his head to wring the paladin around the neck, and the two rolled over and over each other. Greywolf snarled and cursed, blue veins showing on his head, and Onyx had lost himself in a mindless fury, grappling and choking the other one and lusting for bloodshed. The image of Imoen nearly cut in half playing over and over in his mind as he grappled the man around the neck. Greywolf was choking him back, and they growled and held not like men, but like beasts. Onyx felt his breath giving out and his larynx collapsing under the pressure of the man's fists, and his vision went completely red. He trembled, feeling death was near, embracing him like a lost father.

NO. YOU WILL NOT COWER. HE SHALL COWER. HE SHALL COWER BEFORE YOU. THEY ALL SHALL.

Onyx grasped the other man's neck and screamed. Greywolf's eyes bulged wide with either asyphxiation or terror, and his own breath escaped in a soprano wail. The older man's grip slackened, his hands pressed off the paladin's splintmailed chest in an effort to push himself away. His feet kicked frantically, trying to scamper across the soil and out of the paladin's grip. He broke it with a quick jerk, fell backwards, and crabwalked away as fast as possible. "Leave us!!" he shrieked, and got to his feet to turn and run.

Abruplty he came to face a healed Jaheira, at the moment she swung her quarterstaff from one end, batting his face. The bounty hunter's face crunched in with the sound of a dozens of bones and teeth shattering, and then an able, healed Viconia was on her feet behind the bounty hunter, planting a dagger in the nape of his neck and licking her lips as she twisted. The great man fell, limp.

"Your face..." she looked up at him worriedly, for it was bruised and bloodied with a number of Greywolf's punches.

Onyx looked down at Imoen's limp wrist. "It's broken..." his mouth twitched, "That...bastard!" He looked Imoen in the eyes, his compassion turning to anger. "How dare he...."

Imoen gasped in fright as his eyes flashed yellow, and his hands clasped gently over Imoen's wrist. Jaheira was kneeling by then, at her glowing touch the girl's wounds vanished. "Thank you," she sobbed. "That was so close." She wrapped arms around her guardian and her friend and they got to their feet.

"I know," Onyx whispered. It was the first time he'd ever seen Imoen scared like this, and that alone was frightening. He too was nearly in shock. One man...nearly took out seven of us. His estimation of the dangerous nature of the world went up many notches.

Viconia had now healed Minsc, and turned to Onyx with a conspiratorial grin. " Faer, sargtlin? I am impressed."

The paladin frowned. "What?" Nearby, Jaheira had tended to Khalid, but remained kneeled over him gingerly without lifting her eyes to her charge and the drow.

Viconia's thin white eyebrows creased. "You enchanted him with cowardice. I could sense the tingle," she licked her lips, "It always liked that one."

Onyx was no less confused. "No, I wouldn't know how. I just...I don't know, he freaked out. And thank Lathander."

Viconia smiled evilly. "I suspect your gratitude lies elsehwere."

The paladin turned away, irritated for his confusion, and mad at her for it. "I don't know what in the hells you're talking about, crazy witch."

The drow went livid, fuming. It briefly occured to her he hadn't dared to insult her before, which made her all the angier now. " Jaed wael! Ignorant fool! I spit upon you!"

"Alas, my work is complete!" Prism cried and distracted everyone, apparently having resumed his feverish work upon the statue as soon as the fight had ended. He stepped aside from the now-finished statue, and the males in the party caught themselves looking slackjawed at it, earning a few glares from the females. "Take what you will from my possessions," Prism declared as he tried to run away, but collapsed to the ground and began breathing heavily, "But leave the sparkle in her eyes. O sweet creature. My effigy to thee is done. Perhaps our paths shall cross in distant Realms, and I shall find the courage to call thy name. Ellesime!"

With that, Prism choked up a wad of phlegm and blood, fell down on the ground, and lay still.

"Too many speed p-potions and no rest…he literally worked himself to death!" Khalid muttered in surprise and kicked one of the many empty potion bottles around the statue's feet.

"Ellesime?" Viconia glared at the elven statue and seemed to ignore Prism's body.

Jaheira snorted while looking down at the body, "If you ask me, it's a waste to lose your life sculpting someone, especially her."

Onyx looked down at Prism with pity, and up at the statue. A man so consumed by his masterpiece that he would die for it? It seems ridiculous, and yet...I have said that I would die for my ideals.

Viconia was appraising him as he appriased the elf woman's statue. He's not looking at it like a lollygagging man enthralled by some siren, but as if he ponders something else , she thought, but snarled, "Close your drooling jaw, pig, you know nothing of beauty. Let us move on."

Minsc peered down at Greywolf's body and declared, "The brave friends of Minsc have defeated the mean mercenary of…meanness! Hamsters and rangers everywhere shall sing of this for generations to come! Well, perhaps not, as it all a day's work of such brave hero companions of Minsc and Boo!"

"Oh yes!" declared Garrick as he conveniently reappeared, "They shall sing! I'll be sure of it! Why, this will make such an epic…"

"You…COWARD!" Onyx, still fuming from Viconia, roared in Garrick's face, causing the bard the flinch spastically, "You ran off! You just tucked tail and ran when the rest of the party needed you most! You left Imoen's side! She could have been killed! She almost was killed!"

Jaheira scowled at him as she got up, "You have shown yourself a buffoon over and over, and now we see you are a coward too! If you want to be an adventurer, start acting like one!" Beside her, Khalid nodded silently.

"Pathetic," Viconia simply drawled.

Garrick looked at his feet as they entire party glared at him, obviously wishing he could disappear. Again. "Sorry," Onyx sighed, "I…didn't mean to scream at you. But I did mean what I said. He was just one man, and he nearly took up all down. It's...scary." He glanced over to Greywolf's body and sword. "I don't suppose you could make yourself useful. This sword of Greywolf's. Obviously magical...."

Viconia grinned. "Yes, you've spent hours upon the road making my ears bleed with weaponslore, now put it to use."

Garrick eagerly hunched over Greyworlf, happy to have a chance to be useful. He studied the blade for a moment, mumbling, reciting lyrics that described this weapon in accurate if flowery language. His face lit up. "Why yes!" he gasped with delight. "It…'tis a legendary blade!" he looked up at the paladin. "A truly legendary blade!"

"More specifically..." Jaheira sighed.

" Varscona! " Garrick exclaimed. "Tis mightily enchanted, and bites with winter's chill!"

"I've heard of it too," Viconia smiled, "Used by a priestess of my goddess for the sacrificial rites of Feast of the Moon ceremonies. When she passed on, it was buried within her chest. She was to be exhumed in a season, reborn in a few form, but cult wars killed those who should have. It is said she did reawaken, entrapped and enraged, her tomb now a prison, and when this blade finally was exhumed after hundreds of years, she was no more. Perhaps one with the blade."

"Interesting," Onyx held it aloft, and it glinted in the sun. He could feel the cold radiating from the blade. "Khalid. You should wield it. You're a more experienced swordsman than I."

"Oh, I c-c-c-ouldn't," he stared nervously, almost superstitiously, at the sword. "It's yours, Onyx."

"That's right! And Minsc prefers two-handed swords anway! Isn't that right, Boo?"

"Very well," Onyx put his old sword in his pack, and sheathed Varscona at his hip. Now it shall channel my rage, and bury itself again in the chest of the man with the glowing eyes.