2 – Babes in the Wood
"Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, and your mind-controlled slaves far out in front to act as goblin fodder." – Attributed to Zulkir Lauzoril of Thay
With a frightened start Ashura came awake. She found that she was already gripping her swords and had them pointed in front of her. It was still dark in the hollowed tree trunk, but the dim blue light of predawn was making its way through the cracks. She hadn't meant to doze off. The dead tree was just a place to hide and wait out the night after hours of running through the darkness.
After shaking herself fully awake she carefully crawled forward and then climbed out of the shelter and onto her feet. It was brightening out but still far from dawn. Good. She hadn't slept long.
The floor of the old growth forest looked different in the light, and she felt disoriented. As best she could judge from the opening in the hallow tree and the direction of the light she had come running from the north. The road was somewhere to the…east maybe? As good a direction as any to start in.
Ashura tried to walk softly for a time but her feet kept finding twigs to crunch, and eventually she gave up and just trudged along, her eyes constantly sweeping. Time passed and no pursuers appeared. There was nothing but the cheerful sound of the morning birds and the rustle of leaves in the Mirtul wind.
By the time the sun had fully crested the treetops Ashura came upon a break in the forest. She cautiously approached, at first thinking it was another field. Getting closer she saw the large cobbled stones of a road. The Way of the Lion. Huh. She'd been right.
Ashura crouched against a tree and carefully poked her head out, looking up and down the roadway. She gripped her swords tighter as she spotted a figure. Short, slender, female, carrying a strung shortbow and dressed in a distinct set of purple leggings and matching blouse. The figure wore a purple traveling cloak as well, topped with red hair. Ashura cautiously stepped out from hiding.
The girl on the road spotted her instantly, let out a yelp and ran forward. There was a relieved look on her face.
"Ims?" Ashura asked. "Is that really you?"
"Of course!" Imeon shouted. "Shura! I thought I'd lost you." The bow clattered to the ground as Imoen wrapped her arms around Ashura in a tight hug.
"Lost?"
"Ya." Imoen stepped back. "I uh, was following you guys. I was going to keep my distance, make sure you were alright, maybe introduce myself when old Mr. G wasn't around." She looked at the ground. "But then he…well. Some job I did protecting you huh?"
"So you saw the battle?"
"Not really. I was keeping back when I saw the fireballs. When I got to the clearing I just saw Gorion…his body. I'm so sorry."
"Were there other bodies?"
Imoen bit her lip thoughtfully. "Well, two big ones. Pretty charred but I think they were ogres."
"But no man or woman in heavy armor?"
Imoen shook her head. "No sign of you neither, so there was hope."
"So there was." Ashura sighed and leaned back against the sturdy trunk of a poplar tree. Looking up at Imoen she said: "You can g-"
"No way!" Imoen interrupted. "And I'm not hearing anymore of that. I'm going with you whether you like it or not. You're stuck with me. Yes sir."
Ashura chuckled slightly and shrugged. "Fair enough." She pushed herself off of the tree and stepped onto the road. "We were headed to the Friendly Arm Inn to meet some friends of Gorion. I guess that's our best bet for some answers."
"That's uh, north across the Coast Way, I think," Imoen said, eying the road. "Well, let's get started."
Both Imoen and Ashura gasped in shock as the large grey wolf barred its teeth and snarled. A bend in the road had brought them within a few paces of the beast, and it looked none too pleased. Ashura whipped her swords from their sheaths and pointed them at the wolf. "Get back!" she shouted.
The wolf didn't seem startled, and continued to snarl as it padded to the side, circling. Ashura pivoted, following the animal's motion. "I said get back!" She snarled right back at it raising an arm and preparing to slash if the creature charged.
There was a blurry motion on Ashura's periphery as something wet and heavy hooked into her forearm and dragged it down. She was pulled off balance and her knees hit the stone of the highway. A second wolf! Its teeth were latched into her arm, biting at the edge of her bracer and into flesh at her elbow. The beast twisted its head, worrying with its mouth.
The first wolf charged, gleaming teeth and slobber closing on Ashura's face. There was a twang and a satisfying yelp as an arrow lodged in the wolf's broad side and gave it pause.
Ashura rolled under the beast that was latched to her arm, bashing at its head with the pommel of her left-hand sword. The blows did little good but as they struggled on the ground she managed to find an effective angle to turn her sword and stab at the wolf's underside. The blade sank deep and the wolf let go briefly before pressing down at her, furiously biting and snapping, a blur of fur and teeth and claws.
There was a trickle of blood on Ashura's cheek as teeth grazed her face and she frantically scrambled backwards and leapt to her feet. Before she could retaliate with her swords an arrow lodged into the wolf's neck and it sank to the ground with an ear-piercing whine. As it did Ashura felt teeth dig into her thigh and a heavy presence behind her, pushing her forward and threatening her balance again.
Furious, she whirled around and slammed the pommel of one sword against the head of the wolf. Two more hard bashes to the top of its head and the beast's bite loosened. She aimed her second sword as it did and lunged, stabbing it through the eye. As the wolf shuddered and grew still Ashura whirled around, watching the trees and the bushes.
There was silence.
Time passed and nothing stirred. Ashura yanked her sword from the dead wolf and wobbled in an uneasy battle-stance. "Just two wolves?" she asked.
"Dunno," Imoen said. She kept an arrow knocked. "Sure was enough wolf for me."
After a few moments of silence they relaxed slightly and dug some of the linen strips from Ashura's pack, which they used to wrap around her wounds. The bite on the arm was the deepest, the cut across her face superficial. Her leg ached from the bite on her thigh but luckily no arterial blood leaked and she could still walk straight. "When I bought the linen for my kit I was thinking about my time of the moon and the need for handkerchiefs," Ashura said. "Not bloody wolves in broad daylight."
Imoen had swiped a few healing potions when she left Candlekeep, but Ashura declined them for now. Instead she attached a potion to her belt to be used if there was a life-or-death injury and suggesting that Imoen do the same. Soon they were cautiously walking the road again. Ashura hobbled a bit at first, wincing in pain from step to step before she got used to it.
The road went on and the sun rose higher in the sky, marking late morning. The path bent, winding north for a while, then back to the east. At one of the bends stood a large stone marker with a clear arrow and the word 'Candlekeep' written across in Thorass script.
Two male figures sat against the marker enjoying a small meal. As Ashura and Imoen cautiously approached the figures rose to their feet, one tall and twig-thin, the other stocky and short as a human child. A closer look and Ashura realized that the shorter one was hardly childlike; he had broad shoulders, a thick build, and wore armor of interlocking leather sheets and a sword at his hip. The short man's face was weathered and scarred in a few spots, and there was a mop of unruly dark hair on his head. A halfling or gnome she guessed (how do you tell the difference anyway? She'd never read a book that rightly explained that.)
The taller man seemed human, though nearly as gaunt as an elf and finely dressed in sturdy green traveler's clothes. There was some sort of crest depicting a dragon on his vest and beneath he wore a billowing shirt with matching trousers and black boots. The look of nobility ended with the clothes though. Black face paint accented the man's eyes with lines that looked like long tears, and there was paint around his lips that seemed to extend his smile. Two lines of dots were drawn across the man's forehead, and combined with his wildly disheveled, sandy-brown hair the paint gave the man a clown-like appearance. The manic gleam in his eye and exaggerated bow that he gave Ashura and Imoen didn't help either.
"You poor children," he said in a sing-song voice as she stepped forward. "Are you lost? These woods are no place for you to roam."
"Definitely not," the short man said gruffly as he munched on an apple. "This be a risky road, 'specially these days. They look scuffed up a bit too."
"We're fine," Ashura snarled, resting a hand on the hilt of her sword.
The human waved a calming hand. "Oh Montey," he said to the shorter man, "stop being such a bore." He raised his hands; palms open, and addressed the young women. "We're not bandits, if that's what you fear. Just travelers, much as you." He pulled a bottle that contained a bright blue liquid from his pockets. "Here. Aan altruistic gesture. A healing potion. For whatever's under those bandages."
Ashura's eyes stayed narrow but she carefully took the bottle from his hand.
"Oh come now, it's perfectly safe," the man sang. "I suggest you trust me." He gave her a winning smile and despite everything Ashura found herself smiling back. Before she knew it she had unstopped and downed the blue liquid. She expected bitterness but it actually tasted a little flowery. A warm itch seemed to run through her body and she shivered, resisting the urge to scratch at her bandages. As the itch faded so did the dull ache of her burnt shoulder and the sharp pains in her arm and thigh. She checked beneath one of the bandages and found that under the crusted blood the wound had closed.
"Thank you," Ashura said with a whisper.
"Xzar," the man replied. "That's my name at least. My little companion is named Montey."
"That's Montaron," the short man barked. "One day yer gonna use that pet name a time too many."
Xzar ignored his partner and continued to smile his over-wide smile. "Now," he said, "there's no reason to repay my sacrifice of that most delicious potion, but perhaps your conscious will urge you to assist us in something."
"Uh," Imoen stepped forward, nudging Ashura with an elbow and giving her an uncertain look. "We don't need to help you with anything. Honestly we have business up the road. And you're a little too smooth." She looked askance at Ashura and in a lower voice murmured. "I mean really, these guys are kinda…"
With a jolly and dismissive wave of his hand Xzar laughed . "Oh pish!" he said. "We're completely harmless and trustworthy. I suggest you realize that."
"Hrm," Imoen considered. Suspicion was replaced by a ponderous look.
"Now to my offer," Xzar spoke quickly. "My partner and I are on something of a diplomatic mission looking into the iron crisis that plagues the coast."
"Iron crisis?" Ashura asked.
"My, you are sheltered aren't you? Yes, for some reason the iron in this region has suddenly become all brittle and breaksy. Swords shatter on shields and plows kept breaking in the fields this sowing season. Terrible business, those poor poor farmers."
Montaron snorted. "Plight of dirt diggers," he said sarcastically. "Sad stuff indeed."
"You may not care," Xzar said dismissively, "but our masters do. Or at least they wish to learn what is destroying the iron, lest the same fate befall them. So we're traveling to the town of Nashkel where the crumbling iron seems to be mined, to meet with the mayor and offer our," he did a quick courtly bow, "assistance."
Xzar then tilted his head and gave Ashura an appraising look. "You seem fit and strong, and I trust you know how to use those swords?" Ashura responded with the slightest of nods as Xzar turned to Imoen and asked "And you're a decent shot with that bow?"
"Dunno," she said. "I did just kill a wolf with it." She smiled proudly at that.
That seemed enough for Xzar, who clapped and with a manic grin said "Good then. You see, the roads are rough these days, brimming with bandits and worse. For our little mission we could use some bodyguards. We'll pay handsomely of course."
"That's ah…quite a thing to ask," Ashura muttered.
"Seems a fine occupation for armed vagabonds," Xzar said with a shrug.
Imoen and Ashura shared a glance. "That's what we are I guess," Imoen said. "Might as well."
Ashura nodded. "Okay. I guess we might as well. For now."
Xzar clapped his hands again. "Excellent!" he sang. "We're heading for the Friendly Arm Inn to stock up for the journey south and meet with a contact of ours."
"Aye," Montaron muttered. "They say the place has the finest bath houses in these parts, steamin' and everything. We been pushin' through the wilderness near a tenday and some washing and airing out is damned long overdue."
"Oh," Ashura said with a frown. "We were going to meet some people at the Friendly Arm." Why hadn't she remembered that before?
Xzar gave her a strange look. "Really? Oh. Well," the manic tone returned to his voice, "that's what Friendly Arms are for. Shall we be off?" Without waiting for acknowledgement he turned and began down the road.
Ashura continued frowning as she found herself falling in step behind the strange man in green. Khalid and Jaheira. Her father's old friends. She had been about to forget her father's last instructions and set out on an adventure into the unknown. Then again maybe it didn't matter. She knew nothing except for those two names and a place. Maybe one direction was as good as any other, when you're just an armed vagabond lost in the woods.
In the end she just blamed it on the confusing whirlwind the past two days had been and walked on.
The crossroads at the end of the Way of the Lion was marked by a tall standing stone decorated with whorls and ornate patterns. Arrows directing to the Friendly Arm, Candelkeep and Beregost were carved into various faces of the monolith. Tittering sounds from behind the stone broke the silence of the road as Ashura and Imoen approached. Imoen knocked an arrow and Ashura drew her swords, their pace slowing.
"Identify yourselves!" Ashura shouted.
No response save more tittering. Then several blue-skinned, goblin-like creatures stepped out from behind the pillar, each about the size of a halfling. The creatures grinned manically, small swords in hand. They were dressed in simple rags, and their heads were oversized and bald. Two…five…Ashura counted at least eight of the little things as they fanned out. One of them issued a high pitched cry and then without hesitation they charged, rushing across the cobbles on their stumpy little legs, swords ready for blood.
Imoen's bow sang and one of the goblinoids dropped, grasping at an arrow in his chest. Then the little creatures reached Ashura and she found herself turning and hopping around as she tried to avoid half a dozen swords. She managed to stab one of the creatures through its massive skull, delivering a kick to disengage her weapon as her other sword swept and parried.
Something stung at Ashura's lower back and she whirled, slashing back and slicing a wide gash across one of the goblinoid's necks. It sank to its knees, grasping at the wound. With an underhanded stab she skewered another on her sword, kicking its shoulder as she tried to yank her weapon free. There was a loud snap as most of the sword broke off inside the dying creature's chest.
"Shit!" Ashura gasped as she hopped back, two of the little goblin swords missing her by a finger's width. She held her broken sword behind her and kept her good weapon between herself and the rest of the creatures.
There was a quick, faint ripple through the air that gave Ashura gooseflesh, and the fearless little beasts stopped advancing. A change came across their faces. Their eyes were suddenly wide and their heads swiveled back and forth frantically, then as one they let out an inhuman scream and turned to flee.
Ashura managed to hook a foot under the nearest fleeing creature's ankle and it hit the cobblestones head-first. She followed through with a decisive stab to its back then chased another creature down and felled it with a couple of slashes, the last one to the neck. The last of the moving goblinoid's fell to the ground a few paces from her, two arrows in its back. She glanced around to see if any had escaped but counted two more unmoving creatures with arrows sticking out. All dead by her estimate.
Behind the young women Xzar clapped his hands. "See!" he shouted gleefully. "A fine job you pair did guarding our bodies. And Montaron had his doubts."
With a giggle Ashura turned back and gave Xzar a proud smile.
"I suppose you know the iron crisis now," Xzar remarked as he nodded at her broken sword.
"Yeah," Ashura said, tossing the hilt away. "Bought the damn thing yesterday." She turned to the corpses of the goblins and picked out a replacement sword; crude and nicked but the best of the bunch.
A ponderous frown crossed her face as she squatted there examining the weapon. She had never been the giggling type before. Why was she tittering like a milkmaid at this stranger's compliments and bad jokes? He certainly looked the part of a clown but...
Not to mention that Xzar and Montaron had stood back while her and Imoen did the dirty work of killing those goblins. She had even taken a slash to the back, though feeling the spot it seemed the creature's sword hadn't broken through her armor and it would leave little beyond a nasty bruise. On the other hand the goblins had obviously been hit by some sort of fear spell, and the halfling was too heavily armored to be a spell-slinger. She had taken Xzar for an eccentric fop, but apparently he was also some sort of mage. Should have known, if half the stories are to be believed those two roles are hardly mutually exclusive. Hm.
Imoen was squatting beside Ashura now, searching the corpses and fishing out some coins and plain jewelry that was probably pillaged from less fortunate travelers. She showed off a shiny ring and necklace to Ashura like they were the crown jewels of Tethyr.
"You're such a magpie Ims," Ashura said, shaking her head.
Finished with the dead creatures they got to their feet and turned back to the northern road.
The sun had long set on their second day of travel by the time they caught sight of the Friendly Arm Inn. Montaron and Xzar carried a tent but the previous night had been clear and the four had slept under the stars. Ashura and Imoen had been introduced to some of the nuances of camping out in the wilderness they hadn't learned on childhood trips, namely keeping a rotating watch and picking a campsite that would be hard for bandits to spot.
The "inn" was actually a fully walled fortress, complete with a dry moat and drawbridge. Lightly armored guards lounged beneath the gate and more patrolled in the grassy courtyard beyond. Draped at either side of the gate were long banners that depicted an arm holding a blue flag aloft.
"For a place called the 'Friendly Arm' this sure is intimidating," Imoen remarked as they passed under the spikes of the portcullis.
"They say its cozy enough inside," Montaron said with a shrug. "And damned secure. Think I'm gonna find the bathouse first off. Haven't had a good steam in ages." He wandered off through the various outbuildings in the courtyard and Xzar wordlessly followed. Montaron scowled over his shoulder. "You needn't be attached to my backside at all hours!" he growled.
"Worry not Monty," Xzar replied, "I'll keep a respectful distance. Just have to make sure you don't get in trouble. Orders are orders."
With an exasperated sigh Montaron walked on, following a sign that pointed to the baths. Imoen and Ashura walked past, heading towards the central keep. Welcoming lights shone from every story of the building. As they drew closer the faint murmur of many voices and the rhythms of music and song drifted down from the windows of the keep. A friendly guard pointed them towards the taproom, explaining that it was up a single flight of wide stone steps on the second story of the building.
As the pair approached those steps a man who had been leaning against the wall at the top took notice and began to glide down the stairs. He looked to be middle aged, a hint of grey at his temples, fit and thin and dressed in modest but well made traveler's cloths. As they mounted the first few steps the stranger gave Ashura a warm smile.
"Greetings young ladies," he said in a deep and resonant voice. "Might I ask from whence you hail?"
Ashura gave the slightest of shrugs. "Nowhere in particular. Just vagabonds."
The man shook his head. "No. I…I get the distinct impression that you hail from Candlekeep."
Before Ashura could say anything Imoen gave a cheery reply. "Maybe we do. We're supposed to meet some friends here at the Friendly Arm. You wouldn't happen to be Khalid would you?"
The man's smile brightened and Ashura found herself tensing, hand hovering over the hilt of a sword. There was something off.
"Indeed that is my name, and indeed I think we're going to be great friends," the man said. There was something about his eyes…they brightened, gleaming with unnatural light. Ashura found that she couldn't look away, couldn't move. Her heart quickened.
"I don't know who you are, little redhead," the man continued, "but I recognize Ashura here. I have something for her. Fear not, you'll hardly feel a thing." With that his fingers began to dance and beneath his breath he began to chant.
A bowstring thumped and an arrow shot over Ashura's shoulder, striking an unseen barrier near the man's chest and clanking to the steps. Instantly she was shaken out of her hypnotic fugue, either from the shock of an arrow zipping past her ear or the disruption it caused to the man's spell. Her swords leapt from their sheaths. She lunged.
Both swords slashed in unison and struck the barrier, faltering then pushing through. She managed to draw two shallow slashes across the man's coat and sent him stumbling back up the stairs. He kept his footing, hopping up and up.
"So you're going to be feisty about it?" he snarled as he danced backwards. "That's fine. Fiel siev faeda."
In a dazzling flash the man seemed to divide into two, then four identical version of himself. Ashura slashed out at the spot she thought he had been standing when he began the spell but her swords just met empty air as one of the illusory men flickered out. Imoen loosed another arrow but it also passed through illusion.
As they attacked the fakes the hands of every duplicate wove round and round, the man's voice singing another spell. There was a crackle between his palms, then a sharp boom that split the night air. Ashura gasped and leaped to the side. There was a blinding flash of light and an explosive boom somewhere behind her. She felt a sting somewhere along her flanks as chunks of stone rained down around her and bounced off the steps.
Ashura forced herself to her feet. There was a smoking hole in the wall nearby, and Imoen was lying prone on the steps farther down. The stranger was down to two images, one real and one illusory. As the man pointed a finger at Ashura and opened his mouth she charged up the steps and drove both swords into the leftward image. Her plan was to slash out at the right one next, but she felt a satisfying connection as the swords sank into real flesh.
The stranger's eyes bulged and he gasped, struggling as Ashura shoved and shoved with her weapons. As he let out a raw-throated sigh the man sank further onto Ashura's swords and then slumped against her. She struggled to support the weight as she felt a few shudders run through his body. Then he was still.
With a grunt and a shove Ashura pushed the man away. His body slid off her swords and onto the steps, eyes wide and staring at nothing. She took a few steps back. "What in the Nine Hells was that about?" she panted, wondered aloud.
"Good question," a gruff voice behind her barked. She whirled around and there near the bottom of the steps stood three guards. Their faces were grim and two had crossbows out and ready. Between them Imoen sat on a step, rubbing her head. The blast from the thunderclap had knocked her off her feet but there were no visible injuries.
"Uh," Ashura lowered her swords. "He attacked us."
"Says you," one of the guards growled back. "We brook no trouble here."
"I wasn't looking for trouble," Ashura growled right back. She found the crossbows trained squarely at her chest and one of the guards coughed. With a sigh Ashura dropped her swords. They hit the steps with a clang, along with Imoen's bow.
The guards cautiously climbed the steps, eying the body. Imoen walked past it and stood beside Ashura, reaching over and squeezing her arm. A moment later a fourth guard arrived, jogging up the steps. She wore heavier armor than the others; a combination of boiled leather and thick strips of steel, and the other guards inclined their heads to her. The woman's hair was blonde and cut boyishly short and her face was crisscrossed with scars. "A fight eh?" the newcomer asked. "Don't suppose anyone saw who threw the first blow?"
The other three guards shook their heads. "No captain," one admitted.
The woman walked up further, inspecting the black singe marks and hole in the wall. "Quite a fight too, complete with spell-slinging." She walked over to the body, nudging it with her toe and frowning. As she peered down her frown deepened. "Did you know this man?" she asked in Imoen and Ashura's direction.
The pair both shook their heads. "No idea who he is," Ashura volunteered. "He just asked my name and when I told him he attacked. Cast some sort of dazzling spell, then," she motioned towards the scar on the wall, "worse." She winced a bit from the motion, noticing all the little aches in her body as adrenaline faded. Reaching around she pulled a jagged piece of stone from her backside. It was pebble-sized but sharp, and a little bloody. Her armor felt singed around the place it had bit into. "Nearly hit me too." She dropped the bit of debris and carefully dislodged another and another. Ouch.
The captain chuckled. "I see." She turned back to the body, squatting over him and humming to herself. The hum turned into a whistle. "Yep," she said. "This is Tarnesh. Definitely him." She looked up and studied the young women's faces.
Ashura shrugged. "Who's that?"
"Well known assassin on the coast. Had a run in with him once when I was guarding caravans. Bastard toasted some little noble girl who was traveling with us then vanished. Real good with illusions. Seems like you did us all a favor." She gave Ashura an even look in the eye. "We have a problem though."
Ashura gave her a blank look.
"My job's to keep trouble out of the Mirrorshades' house. Letting someone with assassins after them under the roof kind of runs counter to that."
Ashura sighed and rubbed the back of her neck.
"So assassins are after you?" the captain asked.
"Apparently," Ashura snapped. After the guardswoman made a questioning gesture with her hands she added "Don't blood know why."
"I get the impression he's not the first though," the captain pressed.
"I don't know," Ashura said, shaking her head. "My father was killed last night by strangers on the road. I escaped but I guess they want to kill me too, whoever they are. We were supposed to meet some friends here at the Inn and we were hoping they'd have some answers."
"Who are you meeting?"
"Khalid and Jaheira."
The captain's eyes shot open and she looked taken aback. "Oh." After a pause she said "I see. So you're one of those folks who…" She made a pantomiming gesture, as if she were holding a small harp and plucking the strings.
Imoen and Ashura both just looked at her like she was crazy.
"Guess not," said the captain. "Hm. Well, as long as you don't cause any trouble you can go in and meet with them. I stay out of the business of those who…" She made the plucking gesture again.
"Uh, okay. No trouble, we promise." Ashura squatted, gesturing towards her swords and asked "Can we..?
The captain nodded slightly. "Just keep 'em sheathed."
The taproom of the Friendly Arm Inn was well lit and immense, probably the feasthall of the keep before it was converted. Smoke clung to the high rafters and the room was thick with the cloying smell of pipes and spilt ale. Most of the tables were occupied and the loud hum of conversation echoed off the walls. Above the din of the patrons rang a lively musical jig from a fife, drum and vocal company in one corner of the room. One of the minstrels, a woman, was singing a wordless song in a high but pleasant pitch, a sort of "La ti da da, ti da da, ti da da."
A waitress directed Ashura and Imoen to a table in the corner where two men and a woman sat. They all had their eyes fixed on the young women in an instant, and exchanged whispers as they approached. As the pair weaved their way through the crowd one of the men rose to his feet. He was a weather-worn fellow in drab grey and orange traveling cloths. Over the din Ashura half-heard and half-saw him mouth the words "I'll take my leave."
"Very well, Jopi," the woman said with a thick Tetheryn accent.
As the common looking man passed Imoen and Ashura he gave them a warm smile and a light bow before disappearing into the crowd.
The remaining man and woman eyed the pair of girls, exchanged some words and then stood. The man waved a hand in greeting and gestured towards the table. He wore a coat of scalemail, and a steel helmet sat on the table in front of him. A warrior ready for trouble. He seemed a bit nervous too.
The woman was dressed in a practical looking mix of green cloth and boiled leathers. She had long, chessnut-brown hair, a long narrow nose and piercing brown eyes. Both the man and woman had olive-brown skin; the man's a bit duskier than his partner, as well as slightly pointed ears and oddly tilted eyes that marked them as elf-blooded.
Before they could reach the table the woman stepped forward and addressed Ashura. "Hm. You match the description. Ashura right? A girl with Damaran features, alabaster-white skin, raven-black hair, ice-blue eyes. You even have a bit of Gorion's bearing, though it insults him to say so."
Ashura raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
"My w-wife means no of-offence," the half-elven man stuttered.
"I don't?" the woman asked coldly.
The man sighed. "We…we w-were simply told much of you by Gorion. Where is he b-by the way?"
Ashura eyed her feet. The couple caught on instantly. "Ah, I see," the woman said.
"On the road," Ashura said softly, "we were attacked and he…"
The half-elven woman reached out and gently gripped Ashura's shoulder. "Don't trouble yourself overmuch child. Gorion had many enemies. It was not unexpected that he would meet his end…that way."
"Well, it was all a surprise to me," Ashura muttered. She looked up. "What are your names?"
The woman raised an eyebrow. "I am Jaheira. This is my husband Khalid."
Ashura smiled weakly. "Good to know."
"I don't 'spose Mr. G told you two about me?" Imoen piped in.
Jaheira pursed her lips, pondering for a moment. "Imoen I suppose? The other foundling, with red hair."
"Aw," Imoen pouted. "Ashura got to have raven-dark hair but that's all the description Gorion gave? Not 'hair like spun fire, ruby red lips, legs that won't quit, eyes like sapphires?'"
Jaheira frowned. "How old are you anyway?"
Imoen raised a finger. "That's a very good question actually. We've never been entirely sure. Mr. G brought us both in when we were toddlers. We're both about the same age and we think it's something like eighteen or nineteen but hard to tell. And let me tell you, it was pretty crummy not having a birthday growing up. Until I got the idea that me and Shura could just celebrate our birthday whenever since any day could be it. Maybe three or four times a year."
"I see," Jaheira stated dryly, taking a seat and gesturing for them to do the same. "Trust me, Gorion will not go unavenged." She cocked her head as she watched Ashura cringe and shift on her stool. "Are you well child?"
"Hardly," Ashura scowled. Realizing that Jaheira was referring to her shifting she added "Oh, the injury? I got hit by some bits of stone when a lightning bolt hit a wall. It's not bad."
"A lightning bolt?"
Ashura sighed and nodded. "Guess you couldn't hear over the din in here. Just outside the inn we were attacked by a mage. I don't know why. But one of the guards said he was a known assassin. I got a little singed by one of his lightning bolts. Didn't give him a chance to throw a second."
Jaheira nodded. "Sylvanis grants me some healing abilities, if you want me to treat your injuries later."
"That would be nice. It's not too bad though. Not as bad as the wolf bite. We've um…had quite a time getting here."
"I see," Jaheira said with a fretful look on her face. She shook her head slightly. "An assassin."
"Uh huh," Imoen said as she pulled something out of her pocket and set it on the table: a rolled up piece of parchment. She unfurled it.
Ashura's heart leapt in her chest as she studied the paper. It was a bounty notice with her name on it. There was a brief description of her, a note that she had last been seen leaving Candlekeep and a promise of two hundred gold coins for her head. There was no sign or even sigil indicating who was offering the bounty. No doubt a connected assassin would know what channels to go through.
"I swiped this off Tarnesh's body," Imoen explained.
"When?" Ashura asked incredulously.
"When no one was looking of course!"
"What else did you swipe?"
"A spellbook, a couple of magic scrolls and this," Imeon said proudly as she set a pouch onto the table that clinked with the sound of coins.
"I'm impressed," Ashura admitted.
"I'll have to watch my coin purse around you child," Jaheira noted.
"Pfft!" Imeon scoffed. "Don't worry aunty Jaheira, I don't steal from family."
"Of course." Jaheira turned back to the bounty notice. "Regardless, this is disturbing. Do you have any idea why someone would want you dead?"
Ashura shook her head.
"I don't know what Gorion's plan was," Jaheira said, "but I think it would be best if you traveled with Khalid and I until this is sorted out."
Ashura shrugged.
"We're on a mission, you see," Jaheira continued. "I had hoped for Gorion's assistance in fact. We were to head south to the town of Nashkel after our meeting, where we've been sent to investigate the iron crisis."
There was a sonorous chuckle behind them. "What a remarkable coincidence," Xzar exclaimed in his sing-song voice. "So were we." The face paint was gone and Xzar's hair looked wet and clean.
Jaheira glared and Khalid's hand drifted to the hilt of his sword. "Who's this?" Jaheira hissed.
"It's okay," Ashura said. "This man helped us on the road. He's nice. Gave us some healing potions."
"And a job," Imeon said with a giggle.
Xzar nodded. "These noble lasses agreed to guard my body and that of my partner along the road. You'd be surprised, they're capable fighters." Xzar pointed at Ashura. "Especially this one." She found herself beaming with pride.
"And you're investigating the iron crisis?" Jaheira asked incredulously.
Xzar nodded. "On behalf of my master, Lord Feramont of Waterdeep." He tapped the silver dragon badge on his coat, as if the sigil explained everything. "We are to meet with Mayor Berrun Ghastkill himself and, gods willing, rectify this iron problem. I'd be happy if we traveled together. The roads are harsh these days, and safer shared."
Ashura didn't think it was possible but Jaheira's frown somehow grew deeper. "Perhaps." After a pause she added "Khalid and I have rented a large room upstairs. There's plenty of room for these two young ladies, and they will be staying with us."
The grin on Xzar's face never wavered. "Of course, of course," he said. "Believe it or don't, I'm quite happy to see these young beauties well chaperoned."
"Uh huh." Jaheira was not convinced.
Author's Note: Old school D&D is sure full of weird little creatures that act exactly like goblins but look slightly different, so I figured people would call them "Goblin-looking things" instead of xvarts, tasoli, dakani and whatnot.
Also instead of making Xzar an over-the-top cartoony kind of insane I'm aiming more for him being sly, sinister and just a bit off. I also decided to make the markings on his face painted instead of tattoos like they're usually portrayed as. The Baldur's Gate portraits never make it clear if the characters are wearing warpaint or facial tattoos, so I figured I wouldn't have them all (Xzar, Minsc, Shar-Teel, Coran, Faldorn, and maybe some characters I'm forgetting,) tattooed. And it kind of fits Xzar's personality that he'd draw weird patterns on his face depending on his mood.
Oh, and some people might notice that elements of this story were inspired by the Baldur's Gate NPC project, though I'll probably take a lot of liberties of my own with various characters.