Chapter 1

Marpenoth 21 1369, Year of the Gauntlet

Wait a year or two to get there if you have to, but do not put it off for too long.

The words of the man in green had echoed in the back of the minds of both Bowie Butterball and Rouric Balderk for the last seven years. It was only this morning that they had decided to finally take it upon themselves to journey to the man's homeland, and find the Black Chapel and the challenge that was waiting for him.

On this unusual hot day, Bowie and Rouric were traveling through the forest of Cormanthor. Despite the shade provided by the tree's thin treetops, comprised of mainly red, orange, and yellow leaves, the two Harpers were covered in sweat that poured from their hot armor covered bodies.

Brushing the sweat from his forehead, Rouric looked at his friend. "Bowie, please tell me that we'll be coming to a town soon. It pains me to say this, but I need a bath, and so do you."

Ignoring the terrible smells that came from his, and Rouric's saturated bodies, Bowie shook his head, cursing himself for not cooling his elven chain armor, (which he wore under his leather jerkin) before he and Rouric had left Shadowdale. It was then an idea came to him. "Rouric let us rest for a moment so that I can conjure up a wind to cool us off."

"Finally the best decision I've heard all day, but don't sing too loud or some elves might attack us," the dwarf replied with a chuckle.

The two Harpers set down their weapons and packs on the forest ground. Bowie smiled and closed his eyes, channeling his bardic energy. Then he began singing;

Freezing winds from the north that turn warriors to ice,

from the highest snow laced peaks I call for our aid.

To cool our spirits and our heated rumps,

so that we can continue the journey we have made.

Just as the bard had finished, a cool, but fierce breeze blew past him and his dwarven comrade. The wind had somewhat cooled their bodies, and also caused Rouric's beard to wave in the wind, like a dress on a close hanger.

Once the bard's spell finished its duration, Rouric shook his head. "That spell helped a little, but…"

"But what?" Bowie asked as sweat beads once again formed at his forehead.

The dwarf shrugged. "I'm still warm. Now if we were in the Great Glacier, or the High Ice-." Rouric ceased talking and let out a shout when he felt a piercing chill go through his limbs.

A ghostly laughed filled the air. Bowie chuckled while Rouric shivered and cursed in his dwarven tongue.

"Sylune…"the dwarf said with a stutter that was caused by the chattering of his teeth," that…that wasn't funny."

You said you wanted to be cooler echoed the voice of Sylune Silverhand.

"Yes...bu…but I didn't mean th...that I wanted…to free…freeze to death."

"We can have a nice bath when we get to Voohlar," Bowie said as he reached into his bag and pulled down his dark blue cloak. With a smile, he handed it to Rouric, who quickly wrapped it around his bulky frame.

Voohlar. Isn't that a town controlled by the Zhentarim? Sylune asked her godson.

The halfling smiled at Sylune, or rather the direction in the air he thought she was hovering in. "What town in the Moonsea isn't controlled by Zhents? If we can keep ourselves from attracting any unwanted attention, we should have no trouble traveling. All I really plan for us to do is spend the night there, and ask about the Black Chapel. Yes Rouric, we will eat and bathe when we get to town."

Rouric nodded as his body began to warm up. "Bowie, I've been wondering about that chapel, and that man in green we fought. Do you think he was…is a Zhent, or somehow affiliated with them?"

"He might Rouric," the bard answered, crossing his arms.

And what if he is? asked Sylune as her ghostly form materialized in front of Bowie.

A wicked expression crossed the halfling's face. "Then I guess we cut his head off until he is dead."

Sylune's face twisted in a look of discomfort. You two just remember to be careful and take of yourselves.

"We'll be fine Sylune," the dwarf replied with a smile. "Bowie and I are Harpers after all."

That's what worries me.

It was a slow night in Voohlar's largest inn, the Glowing Helm. The inn's vast, candle-lit lobby was filled with several round wooden tables, many of which were topped with layers of dust and bread crumbs. Only six patrons were drinking in the lobby, each at his or her own table. One of the patrons, a gentleman with short, raven black hair, sat alone in the corner, his mug half-filled with the inn's finest ale. Dressed entirely in black, he studied the other patrons with his cold, gray eyes, while at the same time, his left hand on his emerald embedded dagger while his right hand stroked the unshaven stuble on his chin.

"Can I get you anything else sir?" asked the short, red haired tavern maiden as she approached his table. A soft gasp escaped her lips when she noticed the gray pigment in the man's skin color.

Artemis Entreri turned his cold gaze to the woman who had just addressed him. "No thank you. Now please leave me alone."

The tavern maiden but her lip and quickly walked away. Entreri watched the woman bump into a table on her way back to the counter. His former drow companion Jarlaxle would have reprimanded him for casting such intimidating looks towards innocent tavern workers. But he and Jarlaxle had parted away in what seemed like a lifetime ago. Once again in his life, Artemis Entreri was on his own.

The assassin continued to watch the patrons. He raised an eyebrow when he noticed two new occupants enter the Helm. He recognized one of the newcomers as the halfling Bowie Butterball. His eyes then lingered on the beefy dwarf covered in breast plate armor. Probably another Harper, the assassin said to himself.

"I told you we would get to an inn Rouric," Entreri heard the halfling comment.

"This place looks adequate enough," the dwarf remarked. "I'm going upstairs to bathe."

Artemis Entreri kept still as Bowie turned to the dwarf, mentioning something about keeping the door closed so that he didn't frighten any innocent children. The dwarf addressed as Rouric, flipped Bowie a rude gesture, then walked up the stairs.

Should I make myself known to him? Entreri asked himself. He had met Bowie during an expedition to Myth Drannor, and even fought along side the bard against a small force of Zhentarim. Before bits of doubt crepped into his mind, Entreri also remembered that Bowie was related to his friend Dwhavel Tiggerwillies.

But can I truly trust him?

The assassin had little time to answer that question, for Bowie had spotted him and proceeded over to his table. "Artemis Entreri, how are you? Where is your friend Jarlaxle?"

Entreri's eyes snapped forward, his cold expression locked on Bowie, which seemed to have little effect on the halfling. His nose cringed, as if it was hit by a foul smelling odor "I am fine Bowie Butterball…as for Jarlaxle, our business relationship came to an end a short time ago. We parted ways for reasons I wish not to discuss."

Bowie nodded. "You need not discuss it then."

"And do not think about casting one of your bard spells to find out the truth," Entreri added in a harsh voice.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

The assassin gave a nod, wondering if the bard would keep his word. "So why have you and your friend traveled this way?" asked Entreri. "Is it some secret Harper mission?"

After letting out a soft whistle (which immediately drew a glare from the assassin), Bowie smirked. "Rouric and I came this way in search of the Black Chapel, where we will meet an advesary of some sorts. Would you like to join us?"

Entreri's cold stare switched to a look of confusion. "You're asking me to join you? I have heard that Harpers are always on the lookout for recruits."

The halfling shook his head. "This isn't really a recruiting mission. And while I'll try not to offend you while I say this, but it doesn't seem like you're doing anything important. Except going back to Calimport."

Anger flared in Entreri's eyes. "You said you weren't going to cast a spell," he accused.

"I didn't cast a spell," Bowie retorted. "I figured since you and Jarlaxle had parted ways, you would go back to Calimport. Perhaps after Rouric and I finish our business at the Chapel, we can accompany you."

Entreri sat back, contemplating the halfling's offer. Silence pasted between them for another minute, until it was broken by the assassin's answer.

"I will go with you to the Chapel, if you answer me this question."

"And what question would that be?" asked Bowie in a calm manner.

The assassin moved his head closer to Bowie, "That dwarf friend of yours. Rouric is it? Does he do any unnecessary rhyming?"

Bowie shook his head. "Only when he sings, and Rouric has a pretty good voice…for a dwarf.

"I see," the assassin commented with a half-smile. "And more thing Bowie."

"Yes?"

"You might want to take a bath before we leave."