Pressed on by the desire of fish lunch, Malark and Imoen continued toward the little village. The serene view of the lake and the illusion of the calm environment around them was shattered by two fishermen having a heated argument.

"And we can't go on like this! Hey, you, over there – come 'ere a sec," chimed in one of the fishermen, and Malark obliged.

"Make it quick, mate, I've got a schedule to keep."

The group looked around at each other and seemed to come to some sort of agreement. "We're poor folk not accustomed to trouble, and now we can't get a boat into the water before it pours," mumbled one of the group.

"It's that bitch of Umberlee!" accused another.

Oh, this'll be good. Crazy evil sea goddesses just brighten my fucking morning. Malark rubbed his temples. "You angered a priestess of the bitch queen, then? Not usually a bright move."

"Spare us the commentary. Anyhow, if you could... take care of her for us, I'd be grateful enough to offer you a magic weapon from my grandfather's adventuring days," offered the third.

"Alright. Just to the north of here, yeah? Sounds like a quick enough detour." Malark turned and walked.

"Malark?" inquired Imoen. "Why are we helping them? Aren't you running to Baldur's Gate to avoid being killed?" She put on her deepest voice and best impression of Malark, needless hand gestures and all.

Malark sighed quietly. "Because even if it's a mess of their own making, they still need help. Besides, I don't think it'll make much difference if we get in in the afternoon or evening. Also, Umberlee? Kinda awful."

Imoen's face lit up. "Oh my gods we're finally real adventures! Imoen the magnificent, hoarder of treasure and defender of justice!"

Malark just looked in utter confusion.

"You know, like a hero name? All the good heroes have one!"

"You mean, all the heroes that weren't the best at being their name. Elminster. Drizzt Do'Urden. Balduran."

"I never thought of that. Pick one anyway," teased Imoen.

"Malark the doesn't-want-horrible-things-to-murder-him-because-his-companion-is-very-loud?"

"Imoen huffed and sulked behind him. "You're no fun."

"Ask that girl from Chult."

"Imoen rolled her eyes. "You're the worst."

"Once again, ask that girl from Chult."

Imoen pouted more.

A light shower began to roll in, and Malark pulled his hood further up. Overcast conditions always made him weary, although that might have been a consequence of him being unable to sleep through rain. Although now I'm going to have to do that outside in the not too indefinite future. Yaaay. Quietly chiding himself about how his sense of humour should be dry enough to weather any storm, he walked northeast along the road, hoping to avoid whatever it was that ate people over here.

"Imoen?" Malark put a hand on her shoulder to stop her walking further forward. "What is that?"

"What is what?"

"Those," Malark gestured to two antenna looking things poking out of the ground.

"It doesn't look all that sca..." Imoen was cut off by it bursting out of the ground.

A huge, green, beetle-like creature let out a high-pitch wail as it loomed before the two adventurers.

"Ooooh, I remember what those are. That's an ankheg! I completely forgot it was mating season alr-"

"MALARK I DON'T CARE JUST RUN!" Imoen bellowed at the top of her lungs, grabbing Malark by the right wrist and sprinting like a terrified rabbit

"Actually, I think that one's a female – also, those eyes are amazing close up," continued the bard, deflecting a glob of acid shot at the both of them with his buckler. "Huh, that was close." He continued to keep pace, despite the hand on his wrist.

"How are you not terrified! I thought you were Candlekeep's biggest coward! You've said so yourself!"

"Oh, I just said that to get out of doing stuff. You'd be amazed at how much rat extermination you could avoid by telling Reevor that you were scared of mice!"

Imoen shook her head, completely aghast. A woman with a spear, red hair, and a scowl jogged over to the party.

"Any chance you could give a local ranger a hand? The local ankheg population-"

"Oh, right, aerating soil and all that – hey look, do you see how good we are at helping? There's an ankheg over there," Malark pointed at the ankheg chasing them as he and Imoen ran into the distance. "You should kill that one! Definitely."

"I thought you were joking about being a coward!" Imoen huffed, not sure how seriously to take anything Malark said at this point.

"There's a fine line between bravery and stupidity, Imoen. Bravery is a cool head in the face of danger. Stupidity is not realising you're in danger. I'm running from the assassins because I'm afraid, but I'm not freaking out. Just like I wasn't freaked out by the ogre. Just like this ankheg didn't get to me. Just like the only reason the third assassin-"

"That was the third?"

Malark glared at Imoen and cleared his throat. "The third assassin freaked me out because I hadn't worked out where I had gone wrong in my reasoning – not because I was scared, but because I was frustrated by the failure of my methods and needed to hastily come up with a new way of handling it."

"No-one thinks like that!"

"You grew up in a library as well, I'm surprised you don't. Now come on, we've got a priestess to kneecap."

After a quick, ankheg free, lunch break, the pair continued north. Malark looked longingly at Wyrm's crossing, and continued along the road through the patter of rain to the hut. Outside stood a child on the cusp of adolescence. Oh, no. You've got to be kidding me. Malark grimaced as it felt like a stone plummeted to his core. He had a sinking feeling that this wouldn't end well for anyone and that there was a lot more to the story than he'd been told.

"Stop! You are trespassing on my land home!" cried out the young girl.

Ah, fuck, she's the one.

"None come this way armed as you are. It was those horrible fishermen that hired you, wasn't it? Speak!"

"Uhhh...yeah. They sent me. I'm now curious about the other side of the story-"

"If you do not leave I will assume you are allied with my enemies!"

"Malark, she's just a kid..."

"Thank you, Imoen! I'm actually blind and deaf, so I had actually no ability to work out how old she was," Malark retorted.

"The seas cry out for vengeance! DIE!" cried out the young priestess.

Malark fell face first on the ground and winced in pain. Imoen, realising the young girl was actually dangerous, just panicked and ran around. The girl summoned a hammer, but it wasn't much use after Malark, movement returning to his limbs, knocked her legs out from under her.

"Imoen, for the sake of... you know if someone's slinging spells at us, you shoot them, regardless of how they look! Illusions are a thing!"

"I don't think this one was an illusion..."

"You're right, it probably wasn't, but still. A threat is a threat. Now, what do you have to say for yourself, young missy? Imoen, don't answer that. Probably the first and only time that it wasn't directed toward you."

She explained her story fairly quickly. That the fishermen had killed her mother to stop paying their due to Umberlee, and that before then they stolen her bowl for summoning elementals. They had also tortured the words to make it work out of her first. Her mother's spirit was unable to rest, and while the girl had power, she was exhausted from the pressure Umberlee provided. Malark agreed to help, and full well knew what he was going to have to do to the fishermen. Imoen had asked why he had changed his mind.

"Because they'd have told me the truth upfront if they weren't trying to hide something. Like the fact she was a child. Or that they stole the bowl. No. Something else is going on here, and I don't like being lied to."

It was very late at night by the time they returned to the fishing village. Despite Malark's best efforts, there was no fish in any of the meals. Between running from an ankheg and scalping a bandit, he was very eager to wrap this up as quickly as possible. Giving Imoen a look that very clearly entailed 'Don't talk and get ready to shoot', he drew up to the fishermen.

"Back, I see."

"Have you done it? Have you killed the bitch?"

"I haven't – you haven't told me half of what was going on. Spill it. Now."

The fishermen looked amongst themselves, panicked. "Do you really want to know, boy?"

Malark drew his morning star. "Only reason I haven't started swinging."

"Guess the jig's up, then," mentioned the fisherman who hadn't spoken so far.

"The tribute just got too expensive, and Umberlee won't let you sail if you don't. So we talked to the priest of Talos in Baldur's Gate..."

"TALOS?" yelled Malark.

"Needless to say, we are all now pawns in the 'friendly' rivalry of the gods. So be careful here when picking a side. You may tread on some powerful toes," cautioned the fisherman in blue.

"Enough toes that actually touch the material plane want me dead. I don't care about the divine powers that be. Find yourself a more willing pawn, fisherman."

"So be it," he responded, "though your name won't mean much if you keep breaking deals. Guess we'll just go handle her ourselves."

"No you won't!"

The groups moved quickly into action, but the excitement was mostly bluster. The fishermen were little match for the pair, and within a minute or so, they lay bloodied on the ground. Taking everything they owned, they proceeded back to the hut to the north, as dawn began to rear it's ugly head. They could probably be in an inn within the next couple of hours or so, and hopefully there would be some reward that they could spend – although they had no shortage of gold. They could probably make that last a year if they had to. See why people do this adventuring thing, despite the mortality rate. Then again, we found a diamond in a tree, which is about half our wealth. Mightn't be the norm, then. With a growing sense of hope, they walked to the priestess.

They were thanked, but there was no reward bar a favour from a goddess. Malark could have done without it, but he still had a gut feeling he should trifle less with deities. Then again, how much worse can it get? Salvation is just a bridge away and soon I'll have a roof over my head. It's been a fun adventure, but time to wrap this one up and hang up the old smacking sticks. Maybe I'll even sell this magically imbued flail – that'll keep us going.

As the sun started to crack the horizon, they headed to the bridge.

A/N: Thought I'd include a little bit of fluff here.

Malark – Human Skald, Neutral Good.

15/15/14/17/8/15

+ Flail/Morning star, + Sword and shield style.

I'm honestly surprised anyone at all has read this, so the fact that people are (and some even come back!) is pretty cool. Next chapter kicks the plot of the game into gear, and we actually recruit someone! Stay tuned.