11 – Damsels in Distress

"Every so often it turns out there was a very good reason for the damsel to be locked in a tower" –Ren O' The Blade, A Hero's Handbook

"Here they went!" The ranger's voice boomed, his bald head bobbing dramatically as he pointed at the dirt. "An obvious path."

Ashura peered over his shoulder dubiously. All she saw were scattered twigs and scratches in the mud that could mean anything or nothing. When Minsc hopped away from the spot on the forest floor and gestured for the group to follow Ashura bent forward and gave the mud a closer look. Maybe those rounded spots were from the pads of canine feet. Or they were indentations made my stones, or falling leaves, or rain. Or anything.

By the time she stood up Minsc was a good ten paces ahead and marching purposefully over muck and moss, head high and every step sure. He had a sort of relentless enthusiasm that had infected Imoen and Branwen. Those two had leapt at the chance to help this big proud warrior find his 'damsel in distress,' but Ashura had her doubts.

For one thing there had been no talk of payment before they agreed to this rescue mission and started trudging through the wilds of the Cloudpeaks. Later Ashura had asked if there would be a reward and Minsc had bellowed (he seemed to always bellow, no matter his mood,) that "Hero-ism is its own reward!" The man seemed to think of himself as a character out of a storybook and did everything he could to act the part. Imoen ate it up. She had been raised on the same sort of romantic stories Minsc seemed to live in. Branwen followed just as eagerly, at one point telling them that Minsc reminded her of 'men from a simpler time, when you went around righteously bashing orcs and didn't ask why.'

'Simpler' was definitely a word Ashura associated with the ranger. There was also the matter of the rodent. Most of the time you would not know it was there, but every so often the ranger's hamster would peak out from under his armor and Minsc would react as if the little creature was giving sage advice. Boo knew the best spots to make camp. Boo knew which direction the gnolls they were tracking had went. Boo knew where to find wild game. Infuriatingly enough Boo had been right thus far.

Soon they left the shade and began marching through a wide forest clearing, speckled here and there with budding saplings and ringed by thick brush. Yellow and red wildflowers and tall green growth parted for their boots. Then without warning near the center of the meadow Minsc halted and raised an arm. In a flash his greatsword was out of its sling and ready in his hand.

Within half a heartbeat Ashura had her swords out as well and Imoen readied an arrow, but they stopped at that, seeing nothing in the trees. "Boo smells goblin," Minsc announced.

A silky male voice responded from cover somewhere at the edge of the clearing: "Boo has a fine nose, whoever he is," it said. The man who owned the voice stepped out from behind a thick elm tree. He was square-jawed and handsome in a weathered sort of way, with close-cropped blonde hair that bordered on white and what seemed to be a permanent sneer on his face. A fine ringmail coat hung from his shoulders and a jeweled sword rested at his hip.

Imoen's arrow was instantly trained on the man but he just smiled at her and shook his head. "Best be careful with those arrows," he teased, "lest you injure your friend." With a gesture towards the bushes he called two tall, orange-skinned creatures out of hiding. They marched swiftly into the clearing, dragging something between them as they came. From their serrated ears and bat-like features they were obviously hobgoblins, though unlike the last band Ashura had seen these goblins wore cured animal skins instead of armor and their faces were crisscrossed with elaborate ritual scarring.

Between the hobgoblins a tall, thin man hobbled forward. His wrists were bound with tight ropes and he wore richly dyed red robes streaked here and there with mud. His teeth bit down angrily on a gag, his braided moustache hanging over the fabric, and the hood of his robe was peeled back to reveal a bald, tattooed head. There was something vaguely familiar about the man. Ashura peered for a moment before she remembered: this was the red wizard who had been asking after Minsc and Dynaheir, though he'd been stripped of all his jewelry. The man's name eluded her.

One of the hobgoblins produced a notched iron sword and held it to the Thayan's throat while the other stood back and brandished a longbow. Leaves rustled in the brush behind them; more bandits making their presence known. They were still hidden but Ashura got a glimpse of orange skin and deer hide. More hobgoblins.

"You recognize this man," the blonde warrior said. A statement, aimed on Ashura. "I could see it in your eyes. Don't deny it. You see we caught him less than an hour ago, and I don't think your following in his tracks was a coincidence. We pried a lot of jewelry off him too but," the bandit pointed at the Thayan's neck, "this necklace seems to be magically bound and won't budge. There's a raised symbol on the front of the amulet too. A signet of some noble house, I'm thinking. Maybe if we hacked his head off we could take the jewel and make some money, but I'm betting a ransom for a foreign noble would be worth a lot more."

Ashura rolled her shoulders in a slight shrug. "Maybe he's worth his weight in gold, I've no idea. But you're mistaken. I just met this guy at a spring fair a couple days back. And no, we didn't kiss under the Greengrass pole. He just asked for directions."

"You're bluffing," the bandit said with a sneer.

"I don't even know this guy. Look-"

"Know him or not," Minsc shouted as he took a menacing step forward, "you will unhand him this instant, villain!"

Oh boy.

The merchant was doing his best to stay very, very still as his captor pressed the sword against his neck. Sweat was beading all across his face and his head was tilted as far back as he could manage.

Ashura shared a look with Imoen. We're about to start fighting, was what she hoped that look communicated, and her friend nodded. Lowering her bow slightly Imoen fixed her gaze on the hobgoblin who held the hostage and began to murmur something under her breath.

"Do you even understand the concept of a hostage, lad?" the blonde warrior snapped.

"I understand that only base villains hold innocents captive for random," Minsc bellowed, "and it is the duty of any hero to free them!" Ten paces away the Thayan seemed to be rolling his eyes and muttering angrily through his gag.

The bandit shook his head. "You're really going to ruin a perfectly good day with heroism?"

"Of course!" the big man shouted without pause. "For a hero I am, and heroing is all I know how to do. I'm in the business of heroing. So-"

A sharp white light flashed in Imoen's eyes and she raised her bow and loosed in one fluid motion. Minsc's words were interrupted by the thump of the bowstring and the sharp gasps that went up all around as they watched the arrow streak by. It struck the hostage-taker directly in the eye and sank deep into his skull, snapping his head back. The sword left a faint scratch as it slipped from the Thayan's neck. There was one wobbling step, then the hobgoblin lost control of his legs and fell in a heap.

By then Ashura was charging across the field. The second hobgoblin hefted his bow and took aim as she ran, but before the archer's bow straightened fully she could feel a tingle at the spot he was targeting, near the center of her chest. At the last moment just before the hobgoblin loosed Ashura twisted her body to the side and the arrow flew by with a whistle. She was on him before he could knock again, her sword easily stabbing through hide armor and sternum. Ripping the weapon free before the wound closed showered both her and the Thayan in blood.

She felt the eye of an archer focus on her temple and ducked low just in time. The arrow zipped by, a finger length above her helmet. Days earlier they had discovered that the assassin Nimbul's ability to casually dodge arrows came from the pair of magical boots that he wore rather than skill, and Ashura had happily snatched them up as loot. Her electrically resistant boots were handed down to Imoen (who had also gotten a ring of nightvision off the well equipped assassin.) The new boots imparted a sort of danger-sense in the wearer whenever an archer was taking aim at her, giving her a split-second chance to move aside before the arrow, bolt of bullet flew. It was hardly infallible: doubtless a skilled archer could adjust with her movements or even shoot faster than she could react, but the boots were helping so far.

Turning from her kill Ashura noted that Minsc had charged in alongside her and was exchanging furious blows with the blonde bandit. On her other side the Thayan merchant was stiffly rising to his feet. Through his gag the man was trying to say something to her, his tone angry and insistent.

Making a split-second decision Ashura turned to the Thayan and used her unbloodied sword to slice through the rope that kept his wrists bound behind his back. The man wasted no time once his hands were free. He ripped the gag from his mouth and the first words from his lips were resonant and carefully intoned, obviously a magical incantation. In the space of two breaths a smooth wall of violet light shimmered into being around him. The next round of arrows that flew from the brush bounced off the wall of light as if it were mortared stone.

Ignoring the arrows the Thayan smoothed his robes out, brushed some dust from his shoulder and twirled his spindly fingers. In a raspy voice he said: "Now to deal with these pests." A cough and then he launched into another spell, this one long and elaborate. The Thayan's body turned from side to side in something close to a dance as his voice droned and his fingers traced through the air, low red embers following his fingertips and forming ghostly runes where they passed.

As he chanted Branwen rushed past them both with her glowing hammer in hand. Ashura started to follow but then thought better of it. Putting her back to a mage who was about to unleash gods-know-what kind of destructive magic was probably a bad idea. For all she knew Branwen had just charged right into the line of a fireball. Or a firestorm. Or the mouth of the seventh hell.

Instead she turned towards Minsc and his human opponent. She took a few steps to flank the bandit but never arrived in time to help. Before she could close the distance she saw the blonde man try to block a full-bodied blow from Minsc's greatsword and miscalculate the swing. The man's mouth and eyes went wide with shock when his sword flew away, along with his sword hand, followed by a short geyser of blood. All color left the bandit's face as he stared down at the stump in disbelief, turning his head up just in time to see Minsc raise his sword high like a woodcutter (or a headsman,) and bring it down squarely between his eyes. The blow buried the blade deep into the bandit's skull.

Guess Minsc doesn't need by help.

By then the red mage's incantation had come to a crescendo and Ashura cringed as the overwhelming stench of sulfur filled the air. Symbols that burned with smokeless fire burst into being on the grassy floor before the mage and formed a circle. Between the letters a cloud of darkness rose and swiftly congealed into a muscular form, black as night and dappled here and there with rusty red. The creature had four legs and was roughly the shape of a massive war dog, tall as a pony at the shoulders. In the place of eyes sharp red flames flickered and smoke rose between the beast's fangs. An instant after entering this world the hellhound snarled, turned towards the trees where the hobgoblin archers lurked and took off at a full gallop.

So he was summoning a firestorm then. Just the kind that won't bite me in the ass. I hope. Ashura charged as fast as she could behind the burning beast. The hellhound leapt over a tangle of thorns and vanished, followed almost immediately by a cry of pain from a goblin throat.

Ashura skirted around the hound a bit and stumbled upon Branwen. The priestess had her back against a tree trunk and was hemmed in by two hobgoblins wielding spears of sharpened bone and oak. They used the weapons well; slashing with spearpoints and bashing with the ends instead of just poking, and Branwen seemed to be on the defensive, blood pouring from a cut along her shield-arm.

One of the hobgoblins noticed Ashura just as she reached striking distance but by then it was too late. She plunged a sword through his back as he turned towards her and used his shuddering body as a shield when the second hobgoblin jabbed at her face with his spear. Together Ashura and Branwen harried the second warrior but he fought back hard, using his spear much like a quarterstaff and managing to bat both of their weapons away for a time. Behind her Ashura could hear flames crackling accompanied by the ugly smell of burnt hair and hide.

It took an arrow sailing past Branwen and burying itself into the hobgoblin's shoulder to break the stalemate. The wound wasn't deep but it made the warrior flinch and loosen his grip on his spear, giving enough of a pause for the two women to move in and butcher him; Ashura stabbing through the gut while Branwen brought her hammer down onto the crown of his skull.

They turned away from their dying foe and readied their weapons quickly but that seemed to be the last of the bandits. The hellhound had claimed two: one hobgoblin lay on his back with his throat opened and a second body was blackened and smoldering. Some trees and brush nearby were charred a bit as well.

The hellhound gingerly trotted back to the clearing and Ashura and Branwen followed. When it reached the red mage's side it sat down on its haunches. The mage said something to the beast in a strange, lilting language and it seemed to nod and continue sitting there, guarding its master.

Ignoring the monster Minsc rushed over to the Thayan. "My good man," he asked, "are you well? Seems they roughed you up a bit."

He didn't look particularly injured to Ashura, just splattered with mud and annoyed. "I'm fine, I'm fine," he said curtly, taking a step back from the large warrior.

"We've a warpriestess in our party adapt at healing," Minsc persisted. "Perhaps she can-"

"Really I'm quite fine! Go bother someone else." The hellhound growled.

Unperturbed, Minsc gave the mage a toothy smile. "If you insist," the big man said. "Just know that we are happy to help anyone in distress. It's what us heroes do." He gave the mage a little space. A little.

"Indeed," the Thayan said with a scowl. "Though I'm surprised a berserker of Rashemin would come to the aid of one such as I."

Minsc waved a hand. "You are not the first man in a red dress that I have rescued. Though the last one responded in a most nasty way. It was such a shame Boo had to feast on his eyes." Ashura thought she heard a faint squeak somewhere beneath the ranger's armor.

"I…see." The red mage continued to straighten his robes.

"What was your name again?" Ashura asked. Her eyes were focused on the hellhound, bloody swords still gripped tightly in her hands.

"Edwin. Of House Odesseiron. Try not to forget it this time."

Ashura shrugged. "You had a lot more jewelry the first time we met."

Edwin nodded. "Valuable jewelry best retrieved from these brigands. A ring, bracelets bejeweled with large moonstones and a circlet set with an opal. In addition there are three other rings, two wands, an enchanted belt and a wide assortment of potions that I kept on my person for mercantile purposes." He didn't make a move to search for any of this among the corpses, though Imoen and Branwen had begun to pick through the dead.

"Although," Edwin added, "this is the most important piece of all." He tapped the amulet that hung at above his chest. "They were speculating that perhaps it could be removed if I didn't have a neck any longer when your misfit band arrived. I…am grateful for your timing, unintentional as it was."

As she moved from one dead hobgoblin to next Imoen looked up at Edwin and asked: "So weren't you looking for Minsc here anyway? Back at the fair."

Edwin glanced over at the ranger. "My business was with his wychlaran, actually. I do not see her with you."

"She was kidnapped," Minsc stated sadly. "Taken right from under my nose by gnolls two days past."

Imoen furrowed her brow. "So uh, Minsc?" she asked. "You don't recognize Edwin here?"

Minsc shook his head. "I would remember one as colorful as he."

Edwin shrugged. "I believe he was indisposed when I had my dealings with the witch. What of it?"

"And how did you know the witch was in the area?" Imoen asked.

"Augers of course," Edwin said dismissively.

"So why didn't you use your augers at the fair instead of asking random people for directions?"

Edwin groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I have neither the time nor inclination to explain all the vagaries of the arcane arts to a mewling child full of questions. (Especially a little barbarian in leathers who no doubt couldn't grasp the simplest of cantrips.)"

"Hey!" Imoen protested. "I know a little 'bout magic. I even used a spell to save yer ass. True Strike. Showed me exactly how to aim my arrow."

Edwin scowled. "Then maybe I could explain a little about the sphere of divination and how little you truly know of it. Later (and only if it will end this irritating line of questioning.)"

"That sounds like fun," Imoen said with a little clap.

"So," Edwin rolled up his sleeves, "since we all seem to be seeking the witch it would no doubt be prudent if we traveled together for a time." There was a collective shrug from the rest, and that was that.

Once they had gathered everything they deemed useful and Edwin had been reacquainted with his jewelry they left the meadow and set off through the western forest. Ashura gave the pile of corpses one more backwards glance. A sauntering human warrior in fine armor leading a band of hobgoblins from some mountain tribe. She would have loved to know the story behind that, but the dead told no tales.

Soon the forest sloped upwards and they were climbing higher into the Cloudpeaks. The trail that Minsc insisted they were following rose from the trees and took them to ]a worn path along the ridge of a broad mountain. Soon they were well above the forest, winding around along a path likely made by goats and riddled with large stones. The mountain sky was cloudless for once and as midday turned to afternoon the late spring sun glared down harshly upon them. Ashura found herself wiping her brow again and again as she climbed over the roots and rocks.

A few hours into the hike she noticed that Edwin was quietly walking along beside her. "You would have let them kill me," he said by way of breaking the silence, his voice low and even.

Her only response was to cautiously eye the Thayan and place a hand on the hilt of her sword. The red mage was between her and the edge of the cliff rather than the other way around. Good.

"You are quick to distrust and reach for your weapon I see," Edwin added. "Not a bad trait. It also does not bother me that you would have let me die. 'I don't even know this guy,'" he imitated. "I could tell it was no bluff. You were not about to let some hostage you did not even know be used as leverage by some brigands. I admire that."

They continued along the ridge, Ashura keeping her hand over the hilt of her sword. The mage was taller than her by perhaps half a head, though he stooped a bit. He's trying not to be imposing. His gaunt face and spindly hands gave the impression that under the billowing red robes he was a rather slender man.

"I must admit though," Edwin eventually said, "that this whole 'I'll cut you at any moment if you look at me sideways' attitude of yours is beginning to wear on me."

"Had a bad experience with a mage recently," Ashura explained as she kept her sword-hand ready. "He put a charm spell on me and Imoen. Kept it on for about a tenday while we made a long and dangerous trip." Edwin gave her a frown. "Not as bad as you might be thinking," Ashura added. "It wasn't a love spell. But I kept charging ahead and doing everything I could to protect him whenever we got attacked. I think he was using me for goblin-fodder."

"Ah, then perhaps I can reassure you. You see, when I chose to focus on conjuration magic long ago I forswore ever learning even the simplest of enchantment spells. That and illusion spells. I prefer the solid sort of magic over wispy images and the vagaries of the mind."

"Says you."

Edwin shrugged. "Believe what you wish, but I am being honest. And honest when I say that there's a certain practicality about you that I admire and that your companions seem to lack. Your priestess seems to care for nothing beyond finding clear and honorable fights, and the little redhead has her eyes full of stars and storybooks. I need say nothing of Mr. Herrrro, of course."

Ashura chuckled.

"You seem to be the only member of your band that is not hopelessly naive. I admire that, and bear you no ill will."

"Good to know," she said evenly, her eyes fixed on the mountain path ahead. She let her hands rest at her sides however, relaxing a bit as Edwin told her of Thay and how strange and different this tree-clad wild land was from his home of ever higher and higher buttes, mountains and volcanoes.

Gradually trees grew thicker and thicker around them and they found themselves walking through piney forest once more, though it always felt that they were climbing. They still had yet to find any sign that the gnolls had made camp, though a couple of times Ashura noticed what were unmistakably canine footprints in muddy patches on the forest floor. Minsc really was taking them on the right trail, it seemed. That or they had simply crossed the path of a pack of wolves. Imoen suggested that maybe the gnolls rested the way dogs do, stopping to take brief naps instead of ever building a camp. If that was the case there was no chance that they would catch up with the creatures until they reached some sort of lair.

None of that stopped Minsc from hurrying the others along, and eventually their trail led to a wide mountain river speckled with worn stones and white water. They followed the bank north for another hour, keeping to the trees. The river was wide and slower moving in places, quick and treacherous in others, but as the shadows began to grow long they had yet to find a good spot to ford or any sign that the gnolls had done the same.

Minsc located a foot-worn clearing well away from the river with an ancient firepit that hadn't seen use in months and deemed it a good spot to make camp. It was certainly handy when someone else had gathered the firepit stones (Ashura wondered if they had been hobgoblins, humans, orcs, ogres…there was no way to tell,) and the group set about searching for firewood and raising their pair of low, single pole tents.

It was the golden time before sunset when Ashura set out to search for dead dry wood for the campfire. After she had carried a handful of sticks to the clearing and returned to search deeper in the forest honey-blonde hair caught her eye, gleaming where a ray of sunlight struck it through a part in the forest canopy. It was Branwen, squatting at a spot where the trees seemed to clear a bit by the roots of a willow. At first Ashura thought the priestess was relieving herself but her pants were on her legs and she seemed to be staring at something beyond the trees and brush. Was she meditating? Ashura took a few steps towards her and the older woman noticed and turned her head slightly, placing a finger close to her lips to implore silence.

Curious now Ashura crept closer. When she knelt beside Branwen the other woman silently pointed ahead towards the part in the trees and Ashura's eyes followed. Her hand shot to her mouth when she saw, stifling a laugh. Beyond the light branches they had a clear view of a wide and slow moving portion of the river. Minsc's bloody and battered armor and boots lay on the bank, and the tunic, leggings and woolen socks he wore beneath were laying out on large stones at the river's edge.

Out in the river stood Minsc himself, the water coming up to his thighs. He had already washed the bandit's blood from his face and now his cupped hands were splashing water against his chest and shoulders, sending it sluicing down his broad back. From the forest's edge the two women had a perfect view of Minsc's muscular frame. All of it. His minimal body hair suggested that -as Ashura had suspected- he was more Mulan than Rashemi, at least by birth. A little scar tissue on his flat, broad chest and along his side showed that he had seen battle in the past. There was also a streaking scar across his shoulder blade and a spot that may have been a puncture from an arrow in the middle of his left buttock.

Branwen turned slightly and whispered as quietly as she could in Ashura's ear: "Quite the physique I daresay. And no doubt the water is quite cold, but still. Methinks he'd be good for a tumble or four."

Ashura made a face. "That seems uh…" she whispered back. "I mean he seems kind of…addled."

"Bah," Branwen replied ever so softly. "You mistake a simple outlook for a simple mind. He is direct and sincere, a sort of man that, from what I've seen, this age and region seems to lack."

"And that makes him worth a 'tumble or four'?"

"That and that," the northerner said with a cheeky grin and a nod towards the muscular body gleaming in the golden light. "We may assault the dog-men's fortress on the morrow. We all may die. If not then perhaps the next day or the next. Tis good to live a little before hand, no?"

Nearby movement caught their eyes and they both looked down to see a small brown rodent with yellow and white patches walking on the leaves before them. It looked up with big, curious eyes. Then in a blink the little creature turned and scurried back into the brush. It appeared again on the riverbank, and when it reached the water's edge Minsc turned and seemed to say something to the rodent before he looked up, directly through the patch of branches they had been spying through. He began to wade slowly towards the riverbank.

"Uh oh," Ashura whispered. Busted.

"Ladies," Minsc shouted from the water's edge, not seeming to mind the eyes on his naked form in the least. "No need to wait politely for a turn there in the forest. There's water enough for all!"

Branwen chuckled and stood. "See," she said to Ashura, "he's wilier than he seems."

"Him or his hamster," Ashura noted as Branwen stretched her arms and padded towards the riverbank. Soon the northerner was unbuckling her scalemail coat and setting it beside Minsc's discarded armor. A bit less shy than when she was first awakened from the stone. Guess its different when it's on her terms. "The water's a bit cold isn't it?" Ashura asked, lingering by the trees. It had been a hot late Mirtul but it was still a mountain river.

"Hardly," Minsc said with half a laugh. "Compared to the trial baths of the Ice Dragon Berserker lodge back home the water's scalding."

"Or to the fjords of Norheim, no doubt," Branwen added as she slipped off her boots and beckoned.

With a shrug Ashura stepped onto the shore and began to undress as well. When she did follow Branwen into the water she barely managed to suppress a scream that would have probably brought their other companions running. No matter what the other two said about ice dragons or fjords the water sure felt cold to her.

Cold and invigorating. Soon the three of them were splashing each other and swimming out into the deeper pools.