General disclaimer: I own nothing, even Maiyn generally decides her own path.
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Bandits Galore
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Xan mumbled his incantation softly, and Maiyn found his voice strangely hypnotic that night. She was standing next to him, shrouded in the darkness of the trees. Imoen was just off to their left and Kivan to their right, the three of them ready with their bows for Xan's spell to take effect. Branwen and Minsc were just behind, the priestess had a prayer ready, and the warrior was ready to take on anyone who got too close to the archers.
Xan reached out and pointed towards the clearing where several human mercenaries were sitting guard around a campfire. A beautifully golden globe raced towards them, breaking out as a rippling wave of energy spreading out from the centre. Several of the mercenaries instantly dropped to the ground, the sleep enchantment causing them to fall into a comatose slumber. The humans who managed to evade the spell were immediately on their guard, looking around to try and spot where it had come from. Maiyn joined Kivan and Imoen as they took aim; picking them off one by one and felling several before they could cause much commotion, but allowing them to make enough noise to rouse the men in the tents.
Within minutes, the tents seemed to have emptied, and Black Talon fighters were swarming around, beginning to head into the forest towards the group. The three archers were coping, managing to take down most of them as Branwen's prayer flew into their midst, paralysing most as her hold miracle took effect. The archers concentrated on those unaffected by it while Branwen beseeched Tempus for the gift of holy might, and she was swiftly granted it. Kivan, Maiyn and Imoen retreated back slightly, switching targets to the paralysed and sleeping survivors; Minsc and Branwen rushed forward, entering hand to hand combat with the approaching mercenaries.
Xan had moved to one side, and was deep in conjuration again; it wasn't long before a golden beam spilled from his hands, hitting one of the human fighters and instantly charming him. Xan's brow furrowed in concentration as he took over the young man's mind, and instructed him to fight his own comrades. Bewildered, the Black Talon fighters turned on him, focusing their attacks on their possessed companion while Minsc and Branwen easily took them out in turn, due to their distraction. The archers used the moment to finish off the remaining humans who had lingered in the camp and it all fell silent again.
The group waited cautiously for any others to appear. They were now heavily depleted with spells, and knew they had to rely mainly on fighting prowess to battle the hobgoblins, but it seemed as though they had not managed to disturb them enough to cause them to investigate what was happening. Silently, Kivan and Maiyn led the way around the clearing, staying in the shadows of the undergrowth until they were closer to the base of The Chill.
Branwen knelt for a quick prayer, and was blessed with the gift of undead - three skeletons were born from the ground, linked with her telepathically, ready to draw some of the bulky mercenaries away from the group if needed. Xan was down to two spells memorised; one was a spell of horror, which would cause anxiety and fear amongst the enemies. It would also draw attention to the fact the group were under attack however, as the horrified victims were likely to shout in terror. He prepared his components, and began casting as the archers took up their places once again, ready to target those who eluded the spell. Minsc took up a defensive position just ahead of them and Branwen led her army of undead slightly further away, and laying in wait for the attack.
As soon as Xan's spell hit the hobgoblins, the camp burst into activity. Many of the hobgoblins began to flee in a panic as expected, but more resisted the effects and immediately spotted the group due to their nightvision. The archers let fly arrow after arrow trying to lessen the numbers before they managed to get close, but they knew they were outnumbered as Minsc entered the fray.
Branwen let out a mighty warcry, and she rushed into the flank of the assault with her skeletal companions, causing some disarray, and easing the pressure on the berserker momentarily. Maiyn began targeting the hobgoblins in the melee to aid the fighters, while Kivan and Imoen concentrated on their opposing archers, who were taking cover behind the wagons and tents in the clearing.
Xan had once again ducked to the side, his Moonblade in his hands, and he deftly took out any foes who stumbled too close to him. They had successfully killed many of their enemies, but still more appeared, and Maiyn began to fear that they wouldn't be able to hold out long enough. She realised she was almost out of arrows, so she rattled off her last few, and slung her bow over her shoulder. Grabbing her sword firmly, she drew it from its scabbard, and moved into the foray.
Imoen joined her before long, having also depleted her arrow supplies. Branwen's skeletons had managed to take out a large number of the hobgoblins, but eventually they had been surrounded and crushed, and the priestess had manoeuvred herself back to her companions. Xan also moved closer to the battle, casting his last spell - mirror - as his defence. Together, the five companions fought as hard as they could; Imoen, Xan and Maiyn relying on their reflexes to keep them safe, Minsc and Branwen dealing out the damage to the opponents.
The battle seemed to last an age, but eventually there were only a handful of hobgoblins left. Xan's mirrors had all been taken out, and he pulled back from the fight - as a mage, he had no armour and he knew the foes were trained fighters. As he retreated he suddenly felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, and he crumpled to the ground, looking up to see a human face sneering down at him. A sword was raised, ready to plunge down for the killing blow, and Xan closed his eyes. It is time, he thought.
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Maiyn noticed Xan's last mirror wink out of existence, and motioned for him to pull back. She was pleased to note they had almost survived the encounter; there were only a few hobgoblins left, and none of the group were injured, so their chances of success were high. Her glee was short lived though, as she glanced over to make sure Xan had escaped the melee and noticed a figure behind him. Xan fell to the ground, and she immediately sprinted towards him.
Xan's human attacker had raised his sword, concentrating fully on the kill, so he didn't notice the elf running up and bowling into him, knocking him off his feet. Maiyn's natural dexterity allowed her to roll to her feet much faster than the clumsy human, and she stabbed at him viciously with her sword, wounding him several times in the torso, and not relenting until he stopped moving. She turned back to Xan, and helped him to sit up. He was pale, and bleeding badly; his wound was serious. Before he could protest, she pulled back his robe to expose his hurt shoulder, and placed her glowing hand over it. The wound healed partly, stopping the flow of blood instantly, and immediately helping Xan look a little healthier.
"Behind you!" Xan hissed, and Maiyn turned to see five other human figures moving towards the group.
We should have checked the tents in the other camp first! She cursed loudly, and left Xan to find his own safety while she shouted for Minsc to come and help her. The warrior turned to see the humans approach, and he immediately rushed over with Maiyn to confront them. Branwen and Imoen managed to take out the last hobgoblin with Kivan's help, and the priestess went to tend to Xan's wounds while the ranger and the thief headed towards the approaching humans.
Their foes moved quickly, and Maiyn suddenly realised she was surrounded. She felt a slight surge of panic, and looked for a way to break through back to her companions. Minsc had almost arrived at the scene, and the first human lunged at Maiyn, but she deftly avoided his blow, and managed to parry another. The third blow hit true though, but it barely pierced her armour, and only left her slightly winded, but a gap in the circle had been made, and she darted for it, trying to force her way through towards the berserker.
A searing pain went through her leg as she dodged another blow, and she fell to the ground feeling the lunge of a sword plunging into her back. She heard Minsc's mighty berserker cry as he entered his rage, and the attention of the humans quickly left her as they tried to defend themselves.
Maiyn tried to crawl back to the others, but her strength was failing fast. She looked up to see where they were, and she saw Kivan heading her way. She lay her head down, and she felt tired. Cold and tired.
"Don't close your eyes child." The voice was Gorion's, but she knew he wasn't with her.
"But I am tired." she thought. "And I am cold."
"You must fight it, as you have fought your foes. It is not yet your time."
"I am dying?"
"You are. But you will not die if you fight it. You will receive healing, and your destiny will continue. Your time has not yet come, you have a lot to achieve in this world, and I am ever with you."
"I miss you..."
"You need not miss that what is always with you. You have made me proud Maiyn, you and Imoen both. Things will become clearer in time."
"Drink." A bottle was forced to her lips, and she swallowed the contents, allowing the healing elixir to course through her body. Kivan was rubbing a salve into her leg, and within minutes she was feeling better. She noticed the sounds of battle had stopped, and she anxiously looked around to see what had happened.
"Noone else is badly hurt," said Kivan. "Minsc has a few wounds, but Branwen has enough healing spells to tend him, and she has also nursed Xan back to health."
Maiyn nodded, and let Kivan help her to her feet. The group reconvened, scarcely believing they had survived such a reckless task, but Maiyn was feeling more aware of her mortality now than ever before. Imoen slunk off quietly to search for valuables, and Minsc and Kivan quickly checked the hobgoblin tents for survivors; there were none. They returned cautiously to the human side of the camp, and checked the smaller tents for survivors. None were found, but a flap covered the entrance to the largest tent, and Maiyn hesitated.
"We must be prepared," she said, and they nodded. "This could be Tazok."
"You are still badly injured, and we are low on further healing. Are you sure this is wise?" Branwen had a point, but Maiyn knew they had no choice but to go on.
"I am sure," she said grimly, leading the way.
Together they approached the threshold of the bivouac, and she swiftly cut open the entrance. They marched in confidently, and faced the survivors of their assault.
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"Why were they holding you here?"
Ender Sai regarded his rescuers with both amusement and wariness. He had, of course, heard the fighting outside, and his own torture had been stopped while the bandits decided what to do.
"Leave it," the mage had said. "Whatever it is, it'll be dealt with by the men." And sure enough, the sounds of battle had died away to nothing. The four generals had turned back to Ender at that point, but a cough from one of the human mercenaries had distracted them.
"If you're so bothered with what's happening outside, go and investigate," snapped the human archer. The mercenaries had nodded, and left the tent, the generals muttering to themselves and awaiting their return with a report.
Time had passed, and the Black Talon fighters had not come back. The large gnoll had made to go and look for them, but he had been stopped by the hobgoblin. The next thing he knew, a band of strangers had burst into the tent, and the large tattooed one had brought down the mage general with one mighty swing.
The three other mercenaries had been quick to react; the gnoll's halberd had caught the blonde haired woman viciously, and she fell to the ground stunned. Before the gnoll could follow through his action, he'd been impaled with a spear through his gut.
The other two generals - both archers - had taken up positions at the back of the tent, and had managed to injure the two young women. Ender knew from experience that they used poisoned arrows, and he could tell by the wincing expressions of the strangers that they were as effective as ever.
The tattooed man had then rushed forward, behind him was the man with the spear. They didn't take long to finish off their foes, but neither went down without a fight, and both of the warriors were left with slight injuries. The blonde haired woman had come round, and immediately cast spells on her female companions, easing the poison in their blood. That was when the elven one had approached him, and asked who he was. She obviously had not enjoyed his poetic description of his name and profession, and his hinting remarks about the bandits they had just killed.
"I was foolish enough to step on the wrong toes," he repeated, although this time he decided to keep to simple terms.
"You are not a bandit?" Ender wasn't sure if the elf was unintelligent, or merely quite clueless as to her previous foes.
"I... am not, no," he said slowly. "I am Ender Sai, a thief from the city, and former prisoner of Tazok."
At these words the man with the spear had appeared from nowhere to stand inches from his face. "Where is Tazok?" he asked, his voice dark and threatening.
"Kivan..." the elf spoke softly, but it was enough to draw the man away from Ender, and he relaxed slightly. "Tell us what you know of Tazok," she continued, this time talking to the thief.
"He is the one who issues the orders to the mercenaries," Ender said. "Or, rather, to the leaders of each group. The ones you just killed."
"And who gives Tazok his orders?" The female showed no emotion about the deaths they'd issued, and seemed entirely focussed on obtaining information. Ender had no wish to join the bodies littering the camp, so he decided it was best to just tell what he knew.
"The mercenaries believed it was the Zhents who used Tazok to pass on their instructions," he said quickly. "But I know that is not true."
"How do you know?"
"I am careful in my profession," he replied with a smile. "I am careful to not make more than one powerful enemy at a time, and I have not crossed the Zhents."
"Then who?"
"The only people I have had dealings with," he shrugged, "have been the Iron Throne. Tazok has been visiting Cloakwood quite regularly - perhaps there he is now there."
The elf nodded. "You had better leave," she said to him quietly, then turned to her kin. They held a hushed conversation in a tongue he was not familiar with, and he took his opportunity to slip from the tent, and escape the encampment.
I wonder what the rest of the guild will make of it, he thought to himself.
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"I know where Cloakwood is, yes," said Kivan in elvish. "I can lead the way there in the morning - we need to rest and heal."
Maiyn nodded, and watched Imoen check the large chest at the back of the room for traps. After disarming something, the young thief opened it, and took out several pieces of treasure, and two rolled up parchments, which she immediately handed to Maiyn. As in the mines of Nashkel, the parchments were dated, so once again Maiyn read the eldest first.
Tazok,
I hope that everything moves along smoothly. I have written to give instructions from our superiors - they have mentioned that a small bunch of mercenaries might cause some trouble in the future. You are to ensure that they do not live long enough to upset our operations. Obtain the services of Nimbul - he should serve you well.
Davaeorn
Maiyn frowned. "This letter," she said, passing it to Imoen. "It implies that the people behind these bandit raids are the ones who have hired at least one of the assassins."
"But you believed the hirers of the assassins to be the ones who killed your stepfather?" Kivan's face remained stoic.
Maiyn nodded, and opened the second letter.
Tazok,
I have noticed that shipments of iron have slowed as late. It is imperative we receive another ton of ore. Step up your raids and get a shipment to our base in Cloakwood within the next week. We need to stockpile as much ore as possible before our ultimatum is given. Also Sarevok wants to know what has happened with the band of mercenaries. Have they been killed? You had better ensure that they have been, as Sarevok shall not take kindly to any other news.
Davaeorn
The others read the notes while Maiyn wondered about the link between Gorion's death and the iron crisis. They had appeared to be completely different tasks, but now they were being linked in some manner Maiyn couldn't understand. It did, however, mean that the iron shortage was becoming personal.
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They got as far away from the encampment as they could manage in their injured state before they set up camp of their own. Kivan and Maiyn agreed to take first watch, while the others settled down to rest.
"For a bookworm you are well at ease outdoors, my young friend," Kivan stated when she had finished her prayers to Fenmarel. "I can see only the smallest indications that you are not accustomed to walking the beast's trails and sleeping under the dome adorned by the stars."
"You sound surprised," said Maiyn quietly. "We are kin, even if I was raised by humans. They say one yearns for something one cannot have, and I was kept in the seclusion of Candlekeep for my youth, escaping only briefly to the woods outside; and even then, I was so scared of danger I'd stay at the forests edge."
"You do not strike me as the type who fears danger."
Maiyn shrugged. I fear it even more now, she thought, remembering how close she had been to death.
"We are akin then, and more than merely in appearance," said Kivan as he watched her quietly. "You remind me of myself on my first ranging. I wonder if, like me, you feel that it is time for you to start living. And if I am not mistaken, you are quite pleased with this change."
"It isn't that simple," she said softly. "My father is dead and I am being hunted, possibly by his murderer. I have no choice but to live this life." Kivan raised an eyebrow and she recounted her flight from Candlekeep with Gorion, mentioning the bounty notices they had then found.
"Sometimes," she said gently," I feel cold for how I've acted. I saw my father fall to someone who expressed an interest in me, and I ran and kept myself safe. It feels... selfish. And now, I go on; I do not grieve, I simply focus on finding out who did it and bringing justice to them." She sighed.
"He wished for you to survive," said Kivan. "Your return to his fallen body would have meant your own death, and then his own demise would have been a waste. You say you do not grieve, but you cannot talk of him without your voice breaking, and your gaze falling to the ground. You grieve inwardly; but outwardly you go on, because you must."
Maiyn looked at the stoic ranger, and he looked back at her. She had not even been this open to Imoen since they'd started on their travels, mostly because she knew she had to appear strong and controlled. Her sudden placing of trust in the ranger was unexpected, but she felt relieved for having shared some of her burden; and from his words, he spoke as though he experienced the much of the same.
"I wish I could console you, Maiyn," he said while their gaze held, "yet I cannot. I know the pain and the emptiness of a loss, and the hopelessness all too well. However, we must keep going, if only to avenge those who were so mercilessly erased from the world."
She nodded, and something strange happened. She didn't feel so alone any more; there were others who were suffering just as she was, and who had to go on, just as she did. She wanted to express this feeling, but she couldn't find the words.
"Thank you," she eventually managed, and he half-smiled at her.
"You are quite skilled with your bow."
"I taught myself when I found it," she said, explaining how she used to play truant and venture from Candlekeep in more detail.
"You've had noone train with it, or even show you how to fletch?" He sounded surprised.
Maiyn shook her head.
"Then we can pass some time, and I shall show you some of the ranger traditions," Kivan offered.
Maiyn was delighted; the rest of their watch passed quietly as the eager student was taught the principles of making her own basic arrows.
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"Shouldn't we maybe go back to Beregost, and check for Jaheira and Khalid?" Imoen wasn't averse to charging on, but she was slightly concerned that they could do with a bit more help.
Maiyn shook her head. "Jaheira is a skilled tracker; she will be able to find us when they are ready. We do not even know that they are finished their other business. We will detour by the Friendly Arms to stock up on supplies, then Kivan will guide us to Cloakwood."
Imoen nodded, appeased by the thought of replenishing their equipment. Time seemed to have passed so quickly since they left Candlekeep, and what was feeling like a quiet stroll through the lands of adventurers had turned into a dangerous task almost overnight. The young thief had persuaded Xan to teach her more about the ways of a mage during their watch the previous evening, and she was seriously deliberating turning her hands to the Art.
During the battles in the camp she'd felt almost surplus to needs until she disarmed the trap on the chest. Branwen and Xan's spells had been really important, and Maiyn and Kivan outskilled her as archers naturally - their night vision had also helped them immensely. And Minsc... well, Minsc was a mighty warrior, and Imoen could never aspire to hold that role.
But she seemed to be quite adept at the simpler cantrips, and Xan had been very patient with his explanations, and almost encouraging - which was unlike him. Perhaps he had recognised the skill in her?
That's it, she thought to herself, firmly, I've decided. I need to learn to be a mage.
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He stood at the top of the stairs, just outside the inn's entrance and looked around. So many people bustling around, he thought to himself. And for what? To attend to their mundane lives, where they remain slaves to their duties and servitude.
It was why he'd become a bounty hunter. Murdering people didn't bother him in the slightest, and it was easy coin. Sometimes life on the road was rough, and it had been dangerous on more than one occasion, but now he'd found the perfect contract. His prey was roaming the wilderness, far from the prying eyes of the law who tended to frown on his profession, and was relatively inexperienced at the life she was leading.
He did not bother to question why the bounty on her head had increased so much; the only thing that mattered to him was that he managed to find her before any other assassin did. He had settled himself into the Friendly Arms Inn several days ago, watching and waiting, but there had been no sign. Now he was wondering if he should move on and search elsewhere - the most previous notice had mentioned Nashkel, but had also hinted strongly that she was heading north with her companions. Perhaps she had stopped at Beregost?
He sighed, and watched the sky darken. It looked like a storm was approaching, and he hated travelling in the rain. Maybe he would wait one more day.
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The rain had pelted down for over an hour, and Maiyn thankfully noticed the familiar shape of the Friendly Arms Inn looming out of the gloom. The journey had taken much longer than they had expected; they seem to have faced foes at every turn, ranging from aggressive bears and wolves, to bands of hobgoblins, parties of tasloi and a rather ferocious ogre berserker that had seemingly materialised from nowhere in the mist, and clubbed Xan across the head. The mage had not been impressed when he had come round from his dazed state, but at least Maiyn had been able to administer her healing without him protesting.
Silently they trekked along the road, and crossed the drawbridge, which was made slippery by the torrential rainfall. Maiyn had amused herself for most of the journey by guessing when the first flash of lightning or rumble of thunder would occur, but so far there had only been the downpour; she was still sure that the storm itself couldn't be far off. She could feel it in the air.
They morosely crossed the grounds of the settlement, and the female ranger began to lead the way up the stairs. A quick glance ahead made her suddenly stop, and she turned and herded everyone back down to the yard.
"What..." Kivan began, but she hushed him, and ensured they were grouped and aware of the man approaching them. He was slowly descending the stairs, looking slightly aghast at having to venture out into the rain. Two taller men flanked him, armoured and armed; Maiyn didn't like the look of them at all.
"Who's that?" hissed Imoen. The ranger shrugged, keeping her eyes on the central man. He was dressed in an expensive looking green robe, and so she was quite sure he was a mage of some description. She could hear Xan's mumbling from behind her; Maiyn had noticed him ducking behind Minsc, and he was obviously preparing for the worst while hidden behind the massive warrior. The man stopped only a few feet away from her.
"Hi friend," he said, his eyes looking Maiyn up and down. "I've not seen you here before today. What brings you to the Friendly Arms?"
"We are not friends," said Maiyn carefully, her eyes darting to the mage's guards, "and our business at the inn is no one's but our own."
"I'm sure there's no need for you to be quite so defensive," smiled the man. The ranger noted that his eyes stayed calculatingly cold. "I am merely making small talk."
"Are you?" Maiyn's eyes narrowed as she watched his reaction. "You have come outside, in weather which obviously displeases you. You had no intention, it seemed, of coming outside until you saw us, and when you began to move down the stairs, these men appeared from the shadows and followed you. It is not how most people initiate small talk."
"Ah, please excuse my... eagerness to converse with you," the stranger said, a faint sign of amusement on his otherwise frosty demeanour. "You see, you've the bearing of someone I've been looking for. About your height, they were. Same style of dress... or thereabouts. Didn't mention you being quite so dishevelled, but that would be life on the road I guess, hmm? I daresay you seem to be the spitting image of them. Might you have travelled from Nashkel?"
Maiyn could sense her companions tensing, preparing for hostility. "No," she replied, truthfully in a way. "We have not."
"Really?" the man asked, his eyebrow arched. "I would beg to differ - you may not have come directly from there, but regardless, you were in Nashkel recently enough. You fit the description I've been given so I think it would be safe to assume you are the one I seek. Don't move! I have something for you..."
Maiyn had never been one to be overly compliant to anyone but Gorion, so she immediately ducked behind Minsc, which in turn signalled to Xan that he could cast at will.
"I have no more components," he apologised quickly, then stood up from behind the berserker, letting fly a small magenta globe, which exploded lightly on the closest guard, but there was no visible effect. The enchanter sighed, and retreated to ready his Moonblade in case he was needed in the melee.
Kivan and Minsc had leapt forward, brandishing their heavy weapons and facing a guard each, while Branwen had readied her warhammer to face the mage. Imoen and Maiyn pulled out their swords and glanced at each other quickly. They didn't need to speak; a look was enough, and they nodded and leapt at the wizard.
In an instant he had projected mirrors of himself, and the three women desperately fought against the illusions as he began another spell. A groan from Maiyn's right told her that Kivan had been injured, but there was no time to heal him, and she could do nothing but pray to Fenmarel that it wasn't serious.
Her direct attention was focussed on the mage, as she tried desperately to wield her sword effectively. Imoen seemed to have a much better natural ability in melee than the elf, and she was confidently swinging her blade around, scoring hits on the illusions almost as often as Branwen. Maiyn felt seriously outdone, but grit her teeth and kept going.
The mage ceased his muttering, and pointed at her. A small flash appeared before her eyes, temporarily blinding her, and when the light cleared she felt panic welling up in her.
She fought the urge to flee, but the fear rose despite her strict self control. She quickly checked her companions; Branwen was still engaged with the mage and Minsc was preoccupied with his guard, but Imoen and Kivan had fallen back, just as she found herself doing. They wore expressions of fear, and Imoen stumbled, falling to the ground and curling up. Kivan kept retreating, a glazed expression on his face distancing himself from reality, and allowing the other guard to advance upon her.
She saw him bearing down, and she fought for the control to at least defend herself; hopelessness welled up in her, and she could do nothing but watch his advance.
Then out of nowhere came the two familiar purple missiles she'd seen in so many battles. She sighed inwardly, expecting them to home in on her, but to her surprise they danced through the air, hitting the mage, and injuring him in the process. She managed to look to her left and saw Xzar standing a little away, a delirious smile on his face as he stood in his trance.
The guard had reached her, and he raised his sword high, preparing to cleave her in two with its wicked blade. From nowhere, Montaron appeared, stabbing wildly at her attacker, and catching him completely off guard. With an almighty swing, the halfling let loose a terrible blow to the bodyguard's neck, cleanly removing his head from his shoulders. Her ex-companion gave her a cursory glance as she remained paralysed in fear, before heading off to help Minsc bring down the second guard.
Xan had moved in with his Moonblade, easily aiding Branwen in the fight against the now defenceless wizard, and soon the fight was over. The priestess quickly prayed for a remove fear spell, which allowed Maiyn, Kivan and Imoen to collect themselves, and regain their own composure.
"Xzar... Monty..." Maiyn couldn't believe that she'd ever have associated meeting with the Zhents again as good fortune. But there was no doubt about it; they'd most likely saved her life, if not the lives of her companions too.
"Tch", tutted the halfling, scowling at her. "Ah can see ye've been relyin' on luck, insteada skill since we left ye's then."
The ranger grinned at him, and his scowl rapidly faded. "Are you staying here?" she enquired.
"Aye," he nodded, watching Imoen professionally loot the corpses of the fallen. "Jus' fer one night. I hopes yer gonna gie us our dues, youn' madam!"
Imoen rolled her eyes, and handed the halfling some coin. "Let us pay for your room then," said Maiyn. "As a small sign of our thanks."
The halfling snorted. "Ye's can pay fer th'room, an' fer th'food, an' fer th'drinks."
The elf smiled at him happily. "Then that's a deal - as long as you join us to catch up."
The halfling looked ready to protest, but Maiyn pointed behind him to where Xzar was trying to climb onto a cow, and he muttered an agreement and dashed off to stop the necromancer from getting into trouble. Maiyn watched them with amusement, then gathered her own companions and swept up the stairs into the inn.
