Chapter 2
Bowie, Entreri, and Jarlaxle traveled down a long narrow hallway until they found a room to stop and look at on their left. The room was large with four walls made of marble. There were two suits of chain mail armor on each of the four walls. Entreri had searched the room for any secret doors or traps. He had personally hoped to run into a couple of Zhentarim soldiers.
Jarlaxle examined one of the suits of armor. It was beautifully crafted with elven symbols engraved on the chest piece. Standing next to the drow elf, Bowie reached out and touched the suit of armor. Its smooth metal felt cold against his fingertips.
Entreri was ready to leave the room when he noticed a set of armor over his shoulder raking its lifeless gauntlets in the assassin's direction. Entreri grabbed his Jeweled Dagger. His left hand snapped forward, driving the dagger in the suit of armor's chest piece.
After Entreri freed his dagger, the armor fell to the floor with a loud clang. Another suit of armor sprang to life behind the assassin. Bowie quickly stepped between the armor and Entreri. He stabbed Vithril into the armor's chest piece, and then stabbed it once more for good measure.
Jarlaxle reached into his bracer and pulled six daggers. One by one, he threw them at the remaining six suits of armor. After the daggers found their targets, only one of them began to move on its own- that is until Bowie drove his short sword into its side.
Entreri stood in a corner, his weapons drawn incase anything else decided to jump at him. Jarlaxle gracefully walked around the room, examining the elven runes on that he noticed on the floor. "This was a meditating room," the drow said softly before sitting down on the spot where the runes were engraved. "Perhaps I will rest my feet and take my reverie. Why don't you both sing a song until I'm done. Bowie I'm sure you know of a couple of ballads that you two can sing while I rest."
The assassin wasn't too enthusiastic about the drow's suggestion. Bowie on the other hand, brought out his silver harp and quietly sang a song about the elven hero Starbrow. Entreri sat down in a spot near the door and studied the halfling. Throughout his life, Entreri had heard the songs of many bards. He wasn't the type of person who really enjoyed singing, though he had to admit that Bowie had one of the most beautiful voices he had ever heard.
The halfling bard caught Entreri's stare and stopped singing. "Sorry," he muttered as he slowly put his harp away.
The elf wizard Ashenni sat quietly in her tent, waiting for Lieutenant Bolovar. She was a beautiful sun elf with golden eyes and flaxen colored hair. She wore black silk robes and kept a dagger close to her belt. Not only was she a high ranking wizard of the Zhentarim, she was also the consort of Semmemon, the Lord of Darkhold.
Lieutenant Bolovar strode into the room. He was a handsome man with dark brown hair, sky blue eyes, and a thin brown mustache. He wore the standard breastplate armor with the black tabard that bore the symbol of the Zhentarim on the front, and carried a black hilted long sword on his belt. "Ashenni, our scouts have not returned," he said in a quiet masculine voice.
"That's because they are dead lieutenant," Ashenni announced in her angelic voice. "I have scryed the area where you told them to scout and found them dead."
"What beasts killed them?" Bolovar wondered aloud.
Ashenni shook his head. "There were stab wounds on their bodies. Perhaps I can scry to see who their killers were. Until then, make sure the troops are alert and ready. We will proceed to destroy the Hall of Angels as planned." When Bolovar left her tent, Ashenni grabbed her mirror and began the first of many scry spells.
The bronze amulet under Bowie's shirt twitched slightly. The halfling sighed and looked over at Entreri, who was staring at this black-red laced gauntlet. "You felt it too," the halfling bard said calmly. "Our Zhentarim friends must be trying to scry on us."
Entreri continued to stare at the gauntlet, then his grey eyes looked at Bowie. "Why do you have such enmity towards the Zhentarim?" he asked in his calm voice, remembering the expression on the halfling's face when he told him that there might be Zhentarim down in the Lina Marde.
"Lets just say that I'm apart of a powerful organization that fights the Zhents," Bowie answered in a calm voice," but my hatred is towards their leader Manshoon. He is a ruthless and powerful wizard who killed my mother and father before my very eyes. I was only six years old at the time."
The assassin stared at Bowie. "And do you think that Manshoon is down here?"
Bowie shook his head. "Manshoon isn't the kind of wizard who would just stroll into Myth Drannor. Even if Manshoon were down here, Myth Drannor would be crawling with Zhentarim and Harpers. No I think its just some up and coming mageling who wants to carve a reputation with Manshoon. Like my mother did. She was once an assassin who worked for the Zhentarim. From what I heard, she and Manshoon were supposedly friends. Yet he murdered her in cold blood. I watched them die in front of me, then I took my mother's short sword and sliced him across the eye."
Seeing that Jarlaxle was starting to rouse, Bowie stopped speaking. Entreri continued to stare at the halfling. It was hard for him to picture Bowie, who must a frightened child, taking his mother's short sword and slashing the Zhentarim leader across the face.