Warning: Offensive language.

Chapter 8: Cruel Wit

The innkeeper of Nashkel proudly presented the party with a hearty and rustic dinner. A large platter of roasted game birds, seasoned with fragrant herbs and spices, sat at the centre of the rough-hewn wooden table. Next to it was a bowl of steaming root vegetables, freshly harvested from the nearby fields. A crusty loaf of bread, still warm from the oven, sat in a basket on the side, ready to be broken and savoured. The wine, while not the finest vintage, was still robust and flavourful, and paired well with the meal. The room was filled with the comforting aroma of good food and the cheerful chatter of other patrons.

Charmane had explained her decision to Dynaheir over dinner and though the woman looked disappointed she accepted it without protest.

Once the Rashemi left, Edwin took a sip of his wine and eyed Khalid "My dear stuttering friend, I must say it was hard to tell if that feeblemind spell had any effect on your already pitiful intellect."

Khalid glared at Edwin, his stutter more pronounced in his anger. "You...you...you know I couldn't control myself during that fight."

"Careful," Charmane warned. "You should know better than to insult the man who defends you in battle."

Edwin snorts, "Defend me? From what? A strong gust of wind? Khalid could not fight his way out of a burlap sack, let alone defend me."

Jaheira crossed her arms, fixing a stern gaze on Edwin. "Your lack of trust in your companions is quite telling, Edwin. Perhaps you should consider the possibility that you are a poor judge of character."

Imoen scoffed, "Well, aren't you just a joy to be around, Edwin? Maybe if you weren't such a cantankerous old goat all the time, you'd realise that we're alive here right now 'cause of teamwork and we're all on the same side. But I guess some folks just can't see beyond their own noses."

"Oh, Imoen, how charmingly simplistic your worldview is. I highly doubt the druid and her incessantly whining husband are here out of the goodness of their hearts. If you were to step out of Charmane's shadow for once, you might be able to see the ulterior motives at play."

Charmane pursed her lips in irritation, "Perhaps you could save that venomous wit of yours for the enemy, Edwin." Charmane said. "Here I thought you'd be more interested in discussing why the Mask priestess was here."

With an eye roll, Edwin remarked, "Ah, yes, let's divert our attention to the matter at hand. How absolutely tedious. The Mask priestess. Do please indulge us with the tale of how a mere journeyman adventurer became the target of a bounty in the criminal underworld."

"Uh, now that you mention it, I have no idea." Charmane replied, belatedly realising that the topic may not have been the best choice. "I've had assassins after me since before I left Candlekeep. This makes five."

Edwin quirked an eyebrow in curiosity. "My dear Charmane, it is a remarkable coincidence that an insignificant waif from a dung heap would be chased by assassins. Have you ever pondered the possibility that your lowly origins are not quite what they seem?"

"Hmm, let's see. I'm whisked away under the cover of darkness with assassins on my toe. THE Elminster shows up to give me direction. I gain miraculous healing powers out of nowhere. What could possibly make me think my heritage was suspect?" Charmane replied sarcastically.

Edwin's eyes narrowed, "What business could that doddering old fool have with a fledgling rogue?" he muttered to himself. As he contemplated the situation, a thought occurred to him. "Remind me, where does this Candlekeep fall in relation to the gnoll hovel we found the witch in?"

"Directly south." Charmane replied. "The layout is pretty similar actually, you've got to cross a bridge to get to Candlekeep, too. Why? What are you thinking?"

"Absurd divine powers, Elminster…. " Edwin trailed off, lost in thought. Then his eyes widened in realization. "I do not like to speculate," he began, his words slow and measured. "But if the Rashemi witch, true to her witless capacity, went to the wrong island. You, my dear, could very well be the Bhaalspawn-"

Jaheira sputtered and choked on her drink while Imoen's eyes went wide. "Ya ain't fer real, are ya?" the young thief exclaimed, incredulously.

Edwin gave her a withering look. "Oh, do try to keep up, girl. It is a logical conclusion, given the limited evidence."

Charmane rolled her eyes. "Great, so now I'm the child of a dead god. Just what I needed." She thought for a moment. "You know the monks were chanting that day I left," she said, absentmindedly. "That eerie chant."

Imoen's face scrunched up in concentration as she tried to remember the exact words. "Somethin' about the Lord of Murder, right?" she asked, looking to Charmane for confirmation.

Charmane nodded. "Yeah, and that he'll have kids who'll cause chaos."

Imoen's eyes lit up. "Oh, I remember now! 'The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom, he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny.' That's it, right?"

Charmane grinned. "Yes! And then it says, 'Chaos will be sown from their passage. So sayeth the wise Alaundo.'"

Edwin looked mildly impressed. "Ah, yes. The prophecies of Alaundo. It would seem your destiny is becoming clearer by the moment, Charmane." He leaned forward. "Tell me, do you feel any different? Any strange urges or impulses?"

Charmane glared at him. "No, Edwin. I don't feel like murdering anyone, if that's what you're getting at."

Edwin's eyes gleamed with triumph as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. "It seems that fate has dealt me a most favourable hand," he muttered. "Not only am I likely in the company of the Bhaalspawn, but she has also chosen me over that insipid Rashemi witch."

Jaheira scowled at him, but Edwin ignored her. He turned his attention back to Charmane, a smug smirk on his face. "Of course, this is mere conjecture. But if it holds true, think of the power we could wield together."

"Oh, Edwin," Charmane said with a grin. "Don't get ahead of yourself. I mean, we haven't even gone on a proper date yet, and you're already talking about world domination."

Jaheira stifled a laugh while Imoen snorted into her drink. If Edwin was amused, he hid it behind his usual scowl. "I am not one to be trifled with, woman," he warned. "But I suppose I can overlook your impertinence for now."

Later that night, Charmane and Imoen decided to practise their abilities on the unsuspecting residents of Nashkel. While Imoen deftly handled the locks, Charmane managed the uninvited entry. As she was in the midst of one such heist, she overheard a woman in the adjacent room mention something about her missing husband.

"This will do for payment," Charmane thought wryly to herself as she deftly grabbed some coins and made her way out of the home. She then knocked on the very door she had just closed. A plainly dressed woman answered. Her husband apparently worked in the Nashkel mines and had not been home for days. Charmane promised to keep a look out for the man on her behalf.

As Charmane and Imoen headed towards the farmhouses, they spotted Edwin coming out of the local pub.

"Ah, the dynamic duo." Edwin said dramatically, his words slightly slurred, "What nefarious deeds have you two been up to tonight?"

Charmane and Imoen exchanged a glance before Charmane spoke up, "Just practicing our skills, Edwin. Nothing too out of the ordinary."

Edwin chuckled, "Practicing your skills? Such a polite way to say robbery and theft. But I have to admit," he paused, eyeing Charmane appreciatively, "I myself am never one to pass up on a little… perversion."

"Ew, Edwin, really?" Imoen said, scrunching up her nose.

Edwin rolled her eyes and continued addressing Charmane, "Don't tell me you're thinking of swiping scraps from the swine. There's a manor house to the east. I'm sure that would be far more fitting for your… 'talents.'"

"Why Edwin," Charmane teased. "I had no idea you cared so much for the welfare of the poor. Perhaps we should pay a visit to the local orphanage next and see if they could use some of your generosity?"

"Bah!" Edwin scoffed. "I simply have high standards, unlike some common gutter thief."

Charmane laughed. "Well, I'm sure the peasants will sleep soundly tonight, knowing they're safe from the likes of us. All thanks to the great Edwin Odesseiron."

The next morning the party set about gathering information. It was not difficult considering they stumbled across the famous bard, Volo. The man revealed that a shortage of iron ore was gravely impacting local trade. Bandit attacks on caravans were becoming more frequent, which worsened the situation. The iron that did manage to reach its destination was oddly brittle and useless. Furthermore, there was a decrease in production at the Nashkel mines, and the uneasy workers were being held accountable. Now the mysterious disappearance of some miners had the entire area on edge.

Not surprisingly, when Charmane spoke to the village mayor, he promised them a handsome reward for fixing whatever it was that ailed the Nashkel mines. So the party gathered their belongings and began their journey south.

As they were passing the Nashkel general store, a portly man with a double chin and beady eyes waddled up to Edwin, his stomach jiggling with every step. He wore a tight-fitting shirt that strained at the buttons, and a pair of breeches that seemed to be on the verge of splitting. His face was red and puffy, and his hair was slicked back with grease. Despite his appearance, the man held himself with an air of self-importance that Charmane found both amusing and irritating.

"No, say not another word." The man simpered. "I would not think of making you wait but a moment for your just reward. When the council told me that they had procured GREYWOLF to rid the woods of the bandit Tonquin, I knew we could expect swift justice. I would not have predicted success this quickly, but who else could it be striding into town looking, ah, looking as you do? Please accept this meagre sum of 200 gold pieces, as well as the heartfelt thanks of all of Nashkel."

Edwin looked disgusted. "Greywolf? GREYWOLF!? What about my magnificent personage looks grey to you, you imbecilic orangutan!"

Charmane could not stop herself interjecting. "Would you rather, the Crimson Wolf then? Or perhaps the Scarlet Setter?" she said, her eyes filled with mirth.

Imoen giggled and added, "Or how about the Red hound, the Ruby Retriever, or the Carmine corgi?"

Khalid joined in, "Ah, the Burgundy Beagle or the Cherry Chihuahua perhaps?"

Jaheira smirked and said, "I'm personally fond of the Scarlet Shepherd or the Maroon Mastiff."

Edwin scowled at them all, clearly not amused. "Enough of this nonsense. I am Edwin Odesseiron, and I demand to be addressed as such. Any other attempt at humour will be met with a swift and devastating fireball."

Charmane just grinned wider, "Oh Edwin, always the charmer."

"Oh! Forgive me." The plump man piped up, looking both scared and embarrassed. "You are clearly not Greywolf. Oh, sweet Helm, I almost gave 200 gold pieces to a complete stranger?! The captain best not hear of this; he'd have my hide. Thanks be for your honesty, stranger. There are those who would not have done as such."

Edwin gritted his teeth and turned away, refusing to acknowledge his snickering teammates.