Baldur's Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

Table of Contents Introduction...... ii A Journey Begins...... 1 Friendly Arm Inn...... 9 Nashkel...... 16 Nashkel Mine...... 25 Gnoll Stronghold...... 32 Cloud Peak Mountains...... 40 West of Beregost...... 42 Beregost...... 54 Bandit Camp...... 59 East of Beregost...... 64 Ulcaster and Firewine...... 69 Ankhegs...... 75 Cloakwood...... 85 Cloakwood Mine...... 92 Baldur’s Gate...... 100 Shandalar...... 120 Balduran’s Fate...... 125 Durlag’s Tower...... 139 Aec’Letec...... 155 Investigations...... 157 Return to Candlekeep...... 167 Accused...... 180 Sarevok...... 193 Postscript...... 203 Portions taken from Baldur’s Gate copyright  1998 by BioWare Corp. All rights reserved. Portions taken from Tales of the Sword Coast copyright  1999 by BioWare Corp. All rights reserved. Trademarks are property of their respective owners.

Introduction With the end of both the Baldur’s gate saga and the Infinity Engine powered second edition D&D games near at hand, I thought it was time to look back at the original Baldur’s Gate game and its expansion, Tales of the Sword Coast. I have focused on the dialog and story from the game; the entire quoted dialog is taken almost unchanged directly from the source, as well as some of the other material. Naturally, I had to invent a character to fill the role of the party leader. I chose to use Rolanna, a character I have also used in a similar work following the “good” path in Shadows of Amn. All twenty-five characters that can join your party get at least some mention in the following. The care taken in Shadows of Amn to develop the personalities of these characters is exemplified by the fact that the dialog for one character from the latter game is probably greater than that for all twenty-five in the original. Due to this fact I have taken the liberty of interjecting a bit more of myself than in the earlier work, by making this a first person narrative that sometimes relates the reactions of the tale-teller. I am assuming you have already played the original itself, but you might want to read this to experience the story again, or to contrast how it differs from its sequel. Thanks to the lead designer at BioWare, James Ohlen, the lead writer, Lukas Kristjanson, and the producer on Baldur’s Gate (and one of BioWare’s founding partners) Ray Muzyka, and to everyone else who contributed to the story and dialog. I also found the Infinity Explorer by Dmitry Jemerov of some help, available from: http://www.sorcerers.net/Games/IEmodding/index.php I ask that this document be distributed without cost, and unchanged.

Rhys Hess (rhyshess2 gmail.com)

June, 2001: Original Version March, 2002: Made minor corrections throughout the story. I was also mistaken regarding the tenacity of the Infinity engine used in Baldur’s Gate. May, 2015: Minor corrections and revisions.

ii Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

A Journey Begins Candlekeep is located midway along the Sword Coast, a fortress of knowledge. The Sea of Swords laps at the base of the cliffs. At the top, from the walls of Candlekeep, it is sometimes possible to see merchant vessels carrying goods between the cities of Athkatla or points further south to Baldur’s Gate or Waterdeep. Candlekeep is said to be the greatest storehouse of written knowledge in all of Faerun. The monks who tend it follow a strict code of conduct to remain neutral in the miasma of politics that swirls about the region. Even at an early age, I realized I was an anomalous presence at the keep. The only permanent residents are the monks, and their servitors. Even their families are denied entrance to the grounds. Since there are no villages nearby, this usually means weeks of separation before they can see their loved ones. Of course, there are always temporary visitors, come to consult the archives. Officially, a visitor must bring a new addition of knowledge for the monks, and all are welcomed, in accordance with the monks’ position of neutrality. This is one area where practicality bends the rules, as some visitors merely pay a hefty fee to enter, which helps defray the cost of maintaining the fortress, paying the guards and other workers, and seeking out new knowledge. Gorion, my foster-father, was a perennial guest, since we had lived at Candlekeep for almost my entire life. Whatever his arrangement with the monks, I was there on sufferance. Although Gorion occasionally made short visits outside the walls, he had made it clear to me that if I ever left, for any reason, it was doubtful I would be readmitted. I know little of how I came to be a ward of Gorion, but over the years, I pieced together a little about my mother from his careless words or vague allusions. She was a human from Silverymoon and a friend of his for many seasons. As I had no memory of her, nor any keepsakes to remind me of her existence, I came to believe that she died while giving birth to me. This closeness perhaps explained why Gorion chose to raise me as his own daughter, but not why he had shut himself away in Candlekeep. My assumption was that he had decided the world had caused him too much pain, and he no longer wished to deal with it. Of my father, I knew nothing. It was a bright, sunny morning in Candlekeep. I should have been taking lessons from one of my tutors, but I was troubled by what Gorion had said last night. He said he had an important decision to make, one involving me, and had promised to let me know today what he was going to do. Rather than be stuck in the dimly lit halls inside the main keep, I wanted to be out in the air and sunshine. I ran into a visitor just outside the small inn maintained for such as he. It was Firebeard Elvenhair, who I recognized from previous visits. He gave me a somewhat puzzled look before speaking. “Ah yes, I’m back within the hallowed halls of Candlekeep. With this iron crisis upon us, the trip from Beregost was more hazardous than I care to relate... You’re Gorion’s ward, aren’t you? My, you have come into your own, if you would permit an

1 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast old man jealous of youth to say so...” He shook his head in mock sorrow, entering the inn. I swung my quarterstaff up to rest on my shoulder, then set out to walk the outer ward. A roughly circular curtain wall surrounds Candlekeep, minor buildings like the inn lining its inner side. Another circular wall lies inside the curtain wall. The area between the two walls constitutes the outer ward. There is enough open ground in the outer ward that it would be possible to drive two oxen-yoked wagons side by side completely around the fortress. The main keep of the fortress stands by itself inside the inner wall; this is where the knowledge of Candlekeep is stored, and the monks mainly perform their duties. The open area about the main keep forms the inner ward, although here most of the grounds are given over to gardens and stone pathways. Despite my intention to enjoy the fine day, I greeted those I saw as I walked, always ready to assist anyone who needed help. I have been accused of taking life too seriously, but it seems to me that a better world for all can be built one responsible action at a time. My opinion on this was not unknown to the monks, so I wasn’t surprised when one stopped to speak to me. “Dear, absent-minded Phlydia has lost another of her books, ‘The History of Halruaa,’ this time. Last time she was at Candlekeep, she lost an entire four-volume set in the hay we keep for the cows.” I soon came upon Phlydia herself, who greeted me. “Oh, hello! Hey, have you seen my copy of ‘The History of Halruaa’ anywhere? You know how I can’t stand the constant shuffling of arthritic feet up in the library... So I thought I’d get a bit of fresh air just east of here and... Oh, I hate being so absent-minded! Please, if you find it, I really do need it back.” I hurried along the outer ward, stopping where Dreppin was tending the monks’ huge herd of cows—four. When I explained my errand he was able to help me at once, saying, “Phlydia left one of her books in here again. It’s in the hay, there, beside the cow. If you could run it over to her and then come back, I’ve got some plans for you.” I took the book back to Phlydia. “Raising you has been hard on him, I know,” said Phlydia, referring to Gorion, “but he says it’s a toil of love, a toil of destiny, even. You must be a very special child, indeed, to draw such praise from a man of his silent nature... Here, take this little gem of mine. Maybe Winthrop will give you a little something for it.” I was surprised by her comment. You have to know Phlydia to appreciate this. She is usually completely oblivious to what’s going on around her. One time, she entered a room to get a book, picked it from a shelf, and left, not noticing Reader Nilraut and one of his scribes, having escalated an argument past shouting, were engaged in fisticuffs. I wondered what had changed that even she was aware of it. “Nice day, ain’t it?” commented Dreppin when I returned. “Too bad Nessa, here, ain’t enjoyin’ it, though, her bein’ sick ‘n’ all. I need to get her one of them potions of antidote off Hull. He stayed up drinkin’ last night and got hauled outa bed to man the gates early this morning so I bet he’s got a few of them lyin’ around somewheres.” As I headed to the main gate to find Hull, a passing Watcher greeted me.

2 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

“Thankfully quiet here today, as usual. I hear there are problems outside, though; something about an iron shortage. Winthrop has kept his prices as low as he could, but I expect that to change soon. It’s been weeks since a trading caravan has made it here.” There had been rumors floating around of an iron shortage and bandits attacking traders for some time. This was a serious matter for Candlekeep, which produced almost none of its own food. Water was not a problem, since there was a cistern beneath the main keep, but soon everyone would be reduced to eating dried rations from storage. I remembered a comment another Watcher had made to me a few days earlier. “I was in one of the great spires of the keep last night, and saw the strangest sight. The horizon was aglow for a time, as though many a man carried torches in the distance. Usually there are only merchants on that path, though never at night. Bandits perhaps, but so many?” I wondered if it had been bandits. If so, someone needed to do something. Although secluded here, I was aware there were many isolated settlements without the resources of Candlekeep that would be severely hurt by any long outage of trade. Iron was said to be “going bad,” perfectly sound implements just falling apart, although I hadn’t actually seen any evidence of that here. The closest source of iron, the mine at Nashkel in Amn, was variously said to be deliberately producing bad iron, or producing it as a side effect of the monsters said to be killing the miners. Not that hardly anyone in Candlekeep had known there was a mine there until these rumors started flying. Jondalar, a man-at-arms, stopped me. “Hey there Rolanna! I see you’re up early this day. Well your father, Gorion, has asked me a strange favor. Seems like he wants you to learn some fighting and asked me to be the teacher. So I hope you brought your staff with you. During our fight I’m going to spring a little surprise on you.” Gorion was an expert in the intangible magical energies involved in spell casting, but I preferred something I could actually grasp and hold in my hand. I had practiced a little with the fighters here, a few times using an actual sword. My foster father’s asking Jondalar to give me a little training was another indication his decision would have serious consequences. I sparred with Jondalar for about an hour, using my quarterstaff against his sword. His “surprise” was when he had another man-at-arms launch a few arrows at me from behind. Although startling, it didn’t prevent me from continuing to parry his attacks. Honestly, I immediately realized they wouldn’t deliberately injure me, and the arrows would be aimed to miss me by a good margin. Jondalar praised me when we were done, “You did good kid, especially after Erik started firing those arrows at ya. I’m sure your father would be proud.” I found Hull, as expected, doing guard duty at the main gate. “Hey kid, I woke late this morning and left my sword in the barracks before going on duty. If you want to get it for me, it’s in the chest at the foot of my bed on the right side of the barracks. Quick now, before the Gatewarden catches me without it. You’ll also find an antidote there. I think Dreppin needs one for old Nessie.” I hurried to the barracks. Sure enough, I found Hull’s sword were he had left it, along with the antidote. I returned to Hull, handing him his sword. “Thanks, kiddo. Gorion

3 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast didn’t bring you up half bad, did he... You’re lucky to have grown up here in Candlekeep, to be honest. Sometimes I think that the world outside these gates has gone mad, what with all this fighting over iron shortages and all. Amn and Baldur’s Gate will be at war before the season’s out, mark my words... Anyhow, I’m on duty. Here’s 20 gp for saving my skin from the Chief.” “Heh, yer a wonder, you are,” said Dreppin when I gave him the antidote. “Stick with me and we’ll go far... Well, okay, stick with me and we’d prob’ly never leave the walls of Candlekeep, would we... Hmm, good thing you ain’t wearin’ none of that metal armor, though, as I hear that the bandits out there would just as soon kill you as look at you to get it off your back. I just hope this whole iron crisis business is wrapped up soon.” I went back to the main gate, having decided to cut across the Inner Ward and see if there was anything happening there. As I entered the Inner Ward, I passed the Gatewarden headed towards the main gate. I had gotten Hull his sword just in time. I could hear several voices chanting ahead. A few turns of the path, and I came upon the chanters themselves. The sage Alaundo had lived here for many years; the chanters sung his prophecies, that they never be forgotten. Unusually, the Chanter (a title, the person chiefly responsible for seeing his predictions are remembered) was gathered with the voices of all four quadrants. Since the sayings had to be repeated day and night, they usually spelled one another. I paused to listen for a moment. “In the year of the turrets, a great host will come from the east like a plague of locusts. So sayeth the wise Alaundo.” “When shadows descend upon the lands, our divine lords will walk alongside us as equals. So sayeth the great Alaundo.” “The Wyrm shall wander the earth and such a pestilence will follow in his wake that all who know of his passing shall be struck down by the plague. So sayeth the wise Alaundo.” “When conflict sweeps across the Dales the great lizards of the north shall descend with fire and fury. So sayeth the great Alaundo.” “The Lord of Murder shall perish, but in his doom he shall spawn a score of mortal progeny. Chaos will be sewn from their passage. So sayeth the wise Alaundo.” I know that some of his predictions are said to already have happened, like the Time of Troubles, when even gods died like ordinary mortals. Still, his prophecies seemed so vague to me that you could only recognize them after they had occurred. Surely, if the gods had gifted a man with foresight, they should have provided enough information that one could avoid or at least minimize coming trouble. I continued walking, only to run into Imoen around another turn of the path. When I implied earlier that Gorion and I were the only permanent guests, I should have included her. Gorion and the other monks who were my tutors tried, but it was lonely growing up as the only child at Candlekeep. Oh, an occasional visitor was allowed to bring their children with them, but that occurred seldom. I think it was this fact that caused Gorion to

4 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast return from one of his trips with a new friend for me, another orphan named Imoen who he had agreed to raise, about ten years after we had originally arrived at Candlekeep. Imoen, a slight girl, virtually disappeared when next to my height and breadth. Her personality was opposite mine as well, cheerful and non-serious. Despite these differences, we were very close, so close I referred to her as my “little sister,” even though we were about the same age. Imoen was very quick with her hands, and delighted in removing guarded items, the more protected the better, without really seeming to understand why anyone should be upset if they caught her nicking their possessions. I had channeled this enthusiasm, convincing her she should “borrow” someone’s cherished treasure, sharing her find with me, then returning it without the owner being any the wiser. She was often in the company of old Winthrop, the innkeeper, and didn’t care much for the studies imposed by Gorion and our other tutors. Except for the tales they would sometimes tell, of great villains and even greater heroes. I sometimes got caught up in these myself, imagining myself as one of the participants in such a saga, righting wrongs and saving the realms. Imoen waved when she saw me, running up to me. “I’m surprised that stuffy ol’ Gorion let you away from your studies and chores. That ol’ fiddle faddle. I snuck off too. Old Puffguts Winthrop was looking for me, but I’ve got all day to do his chores. You have time for a story today? No, I can tell you don’t. What have ya been up to?” “I’m afraid I cannot chat today, little one,” I replied. “My foster father wishes me to prepare for a journey, but will not say to where.” “Little one? I’m not much younger than you, though you sure got tall fast. Relatively, anyway. A journey, eh?” Imoen pouted, a truly tremendous pout that made her seem ten years younger. “I never get to travel. Wish I could go with ya. Yep, I really wish I could. Yessir. Really do.” “All right, all right.” I shook my head, chuckling. “I get the message. I’ll ask if you can go with us.” “Oh don’t be silly, Gorion would never even let you finish the sentence. Especially after what that letter of his said…er…did I say that? No, of course I didn’t. Never saw no letter. Nope. I’ll just get back to work now. You had better go. Gorion is probably waiting.” I continued. Before I exited the Inner Ward on the other side, I also exchanged greetings with Tethtoril, the First Reader, the second in authority at Candlekeep. I really liked him, and suspected he had been the one to arrange for Gorion and me to stay here. The ruler of Candlekeep, the Keeper of the Tomes, was Ulraunt, a withdrawn and haughty man. I had heard some travelers had been admitted last night. Although they usually stayed at the inn, sometimes their servants would be put up at the old bunkhouse. I decided to pay it a visit. I usually got along well with visitors, and was anxious to get any word of what was happening in the wider world. Inside the bunkhouse was a man, dressed in the rough, patched homespun of a common worker. He didn’t wait for my greeting, but spoke, “‘Ere there. You’re Gorion’s

5 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast little whelp, aren’t ya? Yeah, you match the description. You don’t look so dangerous to me.” “And what business is that of yours?” I answered, wondering how he had heard of me. “I’ll make it my business if’n I please. Just thought I’d have me a look at you for myself, before I puts a blade down your gullet! Someone seems to think you’re trouble, so I’m gonna use your head for a ticket out o’ the gutter! I’m just a little street trash hood they say, but I’ll show ‘em!” He pulled a dagger, rushing at me. I suddenly realized he was actually trying to kill me. I stumbled backwards, falling over a chest in front of one of the bunks. He leaped at me, and we rolled on the ground a few moments. I got one hand on his knife hand, then a foot in his abdomen, kicking out, throwing him across the room. I grabbed my quarterstaff from where it had fallen, then quickly got to my feet. He had managed to hold on to his knife, and approached me again, somewhat warier, not having expected such strength from a woman. He swung his knife wildly a few times, and then I swung the quarterstaff two-handed with all my strength behind it. The end of the staff contacted the side of his head with a squishy thud. He dropped to the ground. When I examined him, he was not breathing. Shaking, I left the bunkhouse. A monk named Karan ran up to me, exclaiming, “I heard shouting, Rolanna! Are you alright?” “He’s…He’s dead,” I dully stated, still shocked, “whoever he was. He lunged at me with a knife.” “It’s not this place, child…it’s you they’re after. Oh, Rolanna, I have been your tutor for so many years and only in this moment have I come to doubt that my teachings have not been enough. Go to Gorion, child. It is safe for you here no longer...” I started to search for Gorion. I entered the lesser priest’s quarters. A man, who I did not know, rubbed his hands at the sight of me. “Oh goodie goodie! I’ve gone and found ye first! You are the ward of Gorion, no doubt?” “I do not recognize you,” I replied coldly. “Who are you and what are you doing here?” “Who I am is unimportant, but who you are is very much so. I apologize for this dirty bit of business, but I must seek your death. A pity, I know, but it would seem your head is worth an exceptional amount to me. I kill you myself and I need not share credit with anyone.” He drew a knife, attacking. Not so surprised this time, I sharply rapped him on the wrist with the quarterstaff, causing him to drop the knife. A measured blow to his head then left him unconscious on the floor. I quickly got a Watcher to take him into custody. I later found out these two incompetent assassins were named Carbos and Shank. A noble visitor’s servants had mysteriously gotten sick while he was passing through Beregost, so he had hired these two as replacements. Justice at Candlekeep, though seldom invoked, was both swift and harsh. For attacking a guest with murder in mind the one I had left unconscious was executed that same day.

6 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

I eventually found Gorion just exiting the main keep. He was obviously very worried, no doubt word of the attacks upon me already having reached him. He spoke to me. “This is very unnerving, I know, but you must trust me. It is very important that you pack your possessions so that we may leave Candlekeep immediately. Hurry, for there is no time to tarry! The keep is well protected, but not invulnerable.” “Please father, tell me where we will be going.” Naturally, I had always dreamed of going outside the outer walls, but now that it had come to it I suddenly wanted reassurance like I was still a child. “Alas, I cannot, for I have not truly decided yet.” Gorion pondered a moment. “All that is certain is that we will be far safer on the move. Perhaps the woods might offer some secluded security, or perhaps the city of Baldur’s Gate would offer cover amidst its teaming throngs of people. I do not know where we shall end up, but I have a few friends here and there. Hmm…I will think on this...” “What could possibly harm us here?” I illogically protested, since danger had already entered. “This place is a fortress, and guarded beyond measure.” “Candlekeep is indeed a formidable obstacle for ne’er-do-wells, but it is not insurmountable. No matter how thick the mesh, at least one mosquito always finds its way through. No my child, we must leave as soon as possible, for our safety, and for that of our friends here.” “What should I bring with me on this journey? If you would just give some clue as to what I will need...” “My dear child, you should know yourself well enough to purchase the gear you need. I have given you what I can spare, so hurry off to the Inn and speak with Winthrop. Use your skills as a reference and buy what basics you must, though spend wisely. His prices are fair, but you may not have enough gold to purchase all that you would want.” I first went to my room, gathering together a very small pile of belongings. I made sure to add a pamphlet I had which should come in handy. It was titled “A Guide to Common Evil Creatures of Faerun, Their Habits, Locations, Fighting Prowess and Sundry other Tips and Advice for the Adventurer,” by Volothamp Geddarm. A visitor had gifted it to me after running an errand; of all the tomes in Candlekeep, it was the only one I could call my own. Clutching the gold coins Gorion had given me, I then hurried off to the inn. I didn’t get along with Winthrop, or “Puffguts” as Imoen called him. Really, how can you deal with someone who liked to tell his visitors, “My hotel’s as clean as an elven arse.”? “Well hello there, young one!” he greeted me. “Come to visit your old pal Winthrop, have ye? Well, don’t forget the 5000 gold piece book entrance fee, as per Candlekeep custom, don’t cha know.” I never seemed to know when he was making fun of me, and stiffly replied, “I fear I do not have that kind of entry fee with me. I suppose I shall return when I do.”

7 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

“I fear ye have spent too much time around those stiff-necked monks and mistaken my attempt at humor for a serious demand. Perish the thought that I should charge for your company. Any child of Gorion is more than welcome in my Inn. So, is there anything I can do for ya. Some drinks, a room to sleep, or anything to buy?” I purchased a stout sword, a bow, leather armor, and other knick-knacks I thought I might need on the road. I bundled my new possessions in an old cloak, making a neat package, and returned to Gorion. He had decided it would be safer to leave after darkness had fallen, so I had to wait the rest of the afternoon in nervous anticipation of what was to come. I found Imoen, and we sat and speculated on why Gorion felt he had to leave, whether someone actually wanted me, personally, dead, and where we would end up. It was hard for me to accept that I might not see Imoen or any of my tutors ever again. Finally, we were ready to leave. I felt the unfamiliar weight of a sword pulling at my hip. The armor I was wearing seemed very confining, and I was convinced it would chafe several places raw before the night was done. As we left through the main gate, the gate I had entered so long ago I no longer remembered doing so, he had some final advice for me. “Listen carefully! If we ever become separated it is imperative that you make your way to the Friendly Arm Inn. There you will meet Khalid and Jaheira. They have long been my friends and you can trust them.” Somewhat later, near midnight I would hazard, we were pressing through the woods, Gorion having deemed it too dangerous to go by the road. He spoke to me. “Let’s hurry child! The night can only get worse so we must find shelter soon. Don’t worry, I will explain everything as soon as there is time.” He suddenly paused, listening. He raised a hand. “Wait! There is something wrong. We are in an ambush. Prepare yourself!” A heavily armored figure approached, flanked by two ogres. A slight woman, also wearing armor, was a few steps behind the lead figure. The armored figure spoke, with a deep, ringing voice. “You’re perceptive for an old man. You know why I’m here. Hand over your ward and no one will be hurt. If you resist it shall be a waste of your life.” “You’re a fool if you believe I would trust your benevolence,” replied Gorion. “Step aside and you and your lackeys will be unhurt.” “I’m sorry that you feel that way old man.” The figure’s voice was inflected not with sorrow, but with anticipation. “Get out of here,” commanded Gorion. He gave me firm push, then turned to face his foes. At the same time, the woman cast a spell at me, a fiery dart that burned my back. Not needing any more encouragement, I took off. I ran a short distance, then threw myself to the ground, looking back the way I had come. Gorion had dropped the two ogres, but the armored figure had closed on him. As I watched, his opponent appeared to shrug off the spells aimed at him. Several blows of the

8 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast great two-handed sword he carried, and Gorion fell to the ground, unmoving. A lump in my throat, unshed tears stinging my eyes, I got up again, fleeing, heedless of direction. I ran as far and as fast as I could, then collapsed, falling into a fitful, exhausted sleep. I awoke the next day, realizing the events of the previous night could not be explained as a dream. Naturally I wished I had been brave enough to stand with Gorion, but even as green as I was I realized that course could have only resulted in my death. I didn’t know much about the armored figure. He had been after me, he had killed Gorion, and somehow I vowed that he would face justice. There was no place for me any longer in Candlekeep. I remembered Gorion’s words. There were friends at the Friendly Arm Inn, which I knew lay somewhere to the east.

Friendly Arm Inn “Heya! It’s me, Imoen!” a familiar voice called out. I was standing on the road which connected Candlekeep with the Coast Way, after having stumbled around in the woods a while looking for a familiar landmark. Imoen was running down the road, waving at me. At the same time, I was extremely happy to see her, upset that she had sneaked out of Candlekeep, and distraught, not knowing how I was going to tell her about Gorion. I didn’t need to worry about that last point, as I found when she reached me. “Sorry I followed ya, but I never get out of Candlekeep and those monks are such a bore. Never any decent coin in their pockets neither.” Her smile disappeared, as she became uncharacteristically somber. “I…I saw Gorion, and I am so sorry! Kinda figured something bad might happen to you out here.” “How could you have known?” I wondered. “Gorion did not even tell me.” “I…accidentally…read a letter on his desk the other day. Can’t remember exactly what it said, but he might still have…it might be on his…his body. Anyway, I’m not gonna let you wander around out here all alone. Never let a friend down, no sir! Stick with you until you say otherwise, I will!” I embraced her, letting our mutual tears flow over the loss of our foster father. Then came the hard task of searching the woods, looking for the site of last night’s combat. In a small clearing we found Gorion’s body, along with the bodies of two ogres. There was no sign the armored figure who had also been present had returned after the battle. I searched Gorion’s body, carefully laying aside a scroll, then with Imoen’s help I piled stones over him, having no tools with which to dig a grave. I hoped at some point to find a better resting-place for him, but in the interim, I piled the ogres’ armor on top of the stones as a makeshift grave marker. Finally, I examined the scroll I had found. Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write, but time is short and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may soon come to pass, though not in the manner foretold, and certainly not in the proper time frame. As we both know, forecasting these events has proved increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith. We have done what we can for those in thy care, but the time nears when we must step back and let matters take what course they will. We have, perhaps, been a touch too sheltering to this point.

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Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter, I could not, in good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning. The other side will move very soon, and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep this very night, if possible. The darkness may seem equally threatening, but a moving target is much harder to hit, regardless of how sparse the cover. A fighting chance is all that can be asked for at this point Should anything go awry, do not hesitate to seek aid from travelers along the way. I do not need to remind thee that it is a dangerous land, even without our current concerns, and a party is stronger than an individual in all respects. Should additional assistance be required, I understand that Jaheira and Khalid are currently at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know little of what has passed, but they are ever thy friends and will no doubt help however they can. Luck be with us all. I’m getting too old for this. The letter closed with a single letter as signature, an “E.” As we were leaving the woods, an old man hailed us. He was dressed in rough, homespun garb. I recalled there were said to be several hermits living near Candlekeep; perhaps this was one. “Well, a busy day for me today indeed. Strange noises throughout the night, and now a plethora of people strolling about the wood. You do look a touch more hospitable than the last two I met though. Well met, stranger. I am called Kolssed.” “You saw two people in the wood?” I asked excitedly. “I was told to meet some friends at the Friendly Arm Inn. Perhaps they and the ones you met are one in the same.” “I doubt these are the ones you seek. They do not seem the friendly type, and are far afield of the Inn. If you wish to meet them, I left them not a moment ago just up the road. You will have to pass them anyway if you wish to go to the Friendly Arm. There is a crossroads a ways to the east and the Inn is north of that.” “Could you help me? My foster father and I were attacked last eve, and now I’m not sure where to go.” “Make friends where you can, as traveling alone is almost certain death. You will want to surround yourself with like-minded companions, lest you risk making enemies in your own party. Aside from this little tidbit of wisdom, I’d say you’re on your own. Luck be with you.” “To you as well.” I convinced Kolssed to take word of what had happened to the gates of Candlekeep. I knew many inside the fortress would miss Gorion almost as much as I, but there was no help to be expected from that direction. With Imoen, I set out on the road eastwards. We had gone but a short distance when we happened on two fellow travelers, a halfling and a mage, by his dress. “Hello there kid,” greeted the halfling. “Rather strange place be to wandering, ain’t it?”

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“Hold Montaron, this young wayfarer is in need,” said his companion. The mage contorted his face into a horrid grin, and shook his finger at me. “Someone has set about thee, stranger, and you have barely escaped with your life.” “Aye Xzar,” agreed Montaron, “looks to have been roughed up quite well.” Xzar nodded gravely. “Indeed. I can offer you healing potions, if you wish, as a token of good will.” I certainly could use assistance. Ignoring the mage’s strange manner, I agreed, “I’d be grateful for any assistance.” “Nothing to fear from these simple potions,” suggested Xzar, although it wasn’t until that moment that I had any cause to doubt them, “and I’ll not even hold you in debt, though your conscience knows otherwise.” “Just like all good people,” added Montaron, gazing soulfully upwards into my eyes. “Perhaps as payment you would go with us to Nashkel,” said Xzar. “It is a troubled area and we mean to investigate some disturbing rumors surrounding the local mine. Some acquaintances are very concerned about the iron shortage. Specifically, where to lay blame in the matter. You would be useful, though I’ll not hold you to it. We are to meet the mayor of the town, a man named Berrun Ghastkill, I believe.” I had little idea of where to go next, other than looking up Gorion’s friends, and Nashkel was as good a destination as any. It seemed strange to me, though, that Xzar would be more interested in assigning blame than fixing the problem. “Your conscience be your guide,” piously added Montaron. I wondered if he was somehow subtly mocking me. “I would join with you, but I must meet someone first,” I replied. “Perhaps you will go with me?” “We’ve precious little time,” Xzar spoke shortly, but then relented, saying, “but it’s best to travel accompanied.” “Aye, we’ll go wit ye,” agreed Montaron. “Ye owe us fer our time though.” We walked for a while along the road, when suddenly a man dashed across it in front of us. At my hail, he reluctantly halted. He said he was a messenger, with important news that must be delivered to the city of Baldur’s Gate. Before hastening off, he added, “Sorry chum, but I can’t stop to chat. There’s been another caravan raided northeast of Beregost and I must report of these dire straits to the Grand Dukes. A messenger’s work is never done.” Evidently, the messenger considered the woods a safer method of travel than the road, despite the inconvenience. I wondered if it was wise to remain on the road, but was afraid I would get lost if off it. We stayed on the road. The sun had passed its zenith by the time we reached the intersection with the Coast Way. An old man, the story book picture of a wizard with flowing robes, a beard, even a pointy hat, rose from where he had been resting to greet us. “Ho there wanderer, stay thy course a moment to indulge an old man. It’s been nigh unto a tenday since I’ve seen a soul walking this road, and I’ve been without decent

11 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast conversation since. Traveling nowadays appears to be the domain of either the desperate or the deranged; If thou woulds’t pardon my intrusion, might I inquire which pertains to thee?” “A fair bit of desperate, actually,” I admitted truthfully. “Might you know the way to the Friendly Arm Inn? I was told I might find some friends there.” “That I would. The Inn is but a short distance to the north, and its doors are open to all. I have no doubt that thy friends shall be there, waiting with open arms. My sympathies for any hardships the road may have inflicted upon thee, though I am certain everything shall turn out for the best. My, but I have wasted too much of thy time and said too much already. I shall take my leave and wish thee all the best.” We continued north along the Coast Way. As we walked, I became increasingly uneasy regarding my companions. It was only partly their manner. Montaron, if someone shifted position to walk behind him, would scowl, clutching the hilt of his sword, then quickly drop back until he was the last one in line. Xzar’s conduct was erratic. He would suddenly stop for no reason, or confide to me a tidbit such as, “I know dragons with feet like rabbits! ‘Tis true I swear!” I felt uncomfortable near them. Their presence weighed on my heart. I had the thought they must be planning some evil mischief, and several times I was on the verge of suddenly ordering them to leave the group. I had never experienced a feeling like this before, and berated myself for harboring such ill will towards my companions. I tried to talk to them, attempting to learn something of their backgrounds. When I asked about his past, Montaron openly threatened me with bodily harm. If I could believe some of his comments, he seemed more than willing to engage in gratuitous violence based on the slimmest provocation. He appeared to care little for life, including his own. He did follow the orders of Xzar, although he obviously despised him. I got the impression the two of them were working for someone else, someone powerful. Powerful enough to engender enough fear and respect to keep them working together. My gut feeling about him no longer seemed so strange. I had the uncomfortable suspicion that with Montaron in the group I just might not wake up one morning. Trying to talk to Xzar was frustrating, since what he had to say was frequently incoherent. His faculties could not be too far-gone, however, since he could still practice magic (at least, I assumed this to be the case, since we ran into no enemies on the way to the Friendly Arm Inn). He, also, mentioned he was working for a powerful organization, but when I tried to press him for details he became extremely agitated, and refused to say anything further. Any group that would employ this pair was unlikely to be friendly towards me. We could make out a fortress ahead next to the road in the fading light when Xzar suddenly said, “Tell us a story, Monty. Something with bears and gold.” “That mad wizard is off on one of his ‘spells’ again,” complained the halfling. “C’mon Montaron, lighten up. Must you be so moody all the time?” By the time we reached the inn dusk had fallen. A guard at the main gate greeted us, “Welcome to the Friendly Arm. I trust you know the rules of conduct within?”

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“There are Rules?” I asked. “What kind of rules?” “Perhaps ‘rules’ is a touch too formal. It is unwritten, but accepted, that while herein you will act with the utmost of civility to all other guests. This is neutral ground, and all grievances are left at the gates. If the grievances come in, then you will go out. Enjoy your stay.” The Friendly Arm looked more like a fortress than an inn. The main keep was an impressive building, several stories high. A wall, joined to the keep, circled round in front of it to form a courtyard; several much smaller buildings were sheltered within the walls as well. As I stood in the courtyard, I could hear faint music coming from the keep. It made sense that the inn’s common room would be located where what was probably once some lord’s banquet hall. It was necessary to climb some steps to reach the keep’s main door. As we climbed, another traveler was descending, and gave me a friendly greeting. “Hi friend. I’ve not seen you here before today. What brings you to the Friendly Arm?” “I am here to meet some friends,” I replied agreeably. “Oh, you must be whom I am to meet then.” The man smiled, but despite his manner, I felt uneasy. “I will take you to your friends, but first I should be sure you are the correct person. Is your name Rolanna?” “Why, Yes it is,” I confirmed, so surprised he knew my name I didn’t think to question how. He nodded. “Perfect. You are indeed the person I seek. Hold still a moment, won’t you?” He started muttering meaningless words, and waving his hands. By the time I realized he was casting a spell, Imoen had already yelled to me to look out, and nocked an arrow, while Montaron was moving behind him with drawn sword. I belatedly drew my own sword, wildly swinging in an attempt to disrupt his concentration. An arrow suddenly sprouted from his chest, causing him to break off his spell. Xzar, wildly yelling, moved up beside him, grasping the man’s arm. Where his hand made contact a red glow could briefly be seen, and a look of pain crossed my opponent’s face. I finally made contact with my own sword, at the same time Montaron stabbed home from behind. By the time two of the guards of the Friendly Arm arrived to help my attacker was dead. I quickly searched the body, finding the following scroll: BOUNTY NOTICE Be it known to all those of evil intent, that a bounty has been placed upon the head of Rolanna, the foster child of Gorion. Last seen in the area of Candlekeep, this person is to be killed in quick order. Those returning with proof of the deed shall receive no less than two hundred coins of gold.

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As always, any that reveal these plans to the forces of law shall join the target in their fate. We entered the keep, leaving the guards to deal with the corpse. The common room was full, the noise so loud I was not surprised no one inside had noticed the brief combat on the steps. I found Gorion’s friends to one side of the room. They appeared to be human, man and woman, but with an exotic cast to their features which hinted at some less common race in their ancestry. They recognized who I was as soon as I told them my name. “Good day friend!” greeted the woman. “You are the child of Gorion, are you not? I recognize you from his letters, for he writes of you often. Forgive my manners; I am Jaheira and this is Khalid, my husband.” “G-good to know you.” Khalid spoke in a much softer voice, stuttering. “We are old friends of your adopted father.” Jaheira sharply scanned my companions. “He is not with you? I must assume the worst; he would not permit his only child to wander without his accompaniment.” “If… if he has passed, we share your loss,” added Khalid. “Gorion often said that he worried for your safety,” Jaheira put her hand on my shoulder, “even at the expense of his own. He also wished that Khalid and I would become your guardians, if he should ever meet an untimely end. However, you are much older now, and the choice of your companions should be your own.” She looked over to Khalid, who nodded. “We could t-travel with you until you get settled; help you find your l-lot in life.” “It would be a fitting last service to Gorion,” Jaheira said, obviously hoping to win me over to this idea, “though we should first go to Nashkel. Khalid and I…look into local concerns, and there are rumors of strange things happening at the mine. No doubt you have heard of the iron shortage? You would do well to help us. It affects everyone, including you. We are to meet the mayor of the town, Berrun Ghastkill.” I noted that they seemed interested in the same events as Xzar and Montaron. As for convincing me, it needed little effort. I had no idea where to begin to find Gorion’s murderer; Jaheira provided a purpose, which might help fill the emptiness I felt since his death. I was happy to follow Jaheira in whatever she wanted done, and answered her with that thought in mind. “I’m already going to Nashkel. My current companions wish to visit there as well.” “Indeed? Interesting. In that case I think we should definitely travel as one. You can never be too careful about the dangers of the open road. Wherever they may spring from.” We would set out on the road for Nashkel in the morning. I grabbed a free table in the common room, sitting with Imoen. I questioned the barmaid who took our order on the Friendly Arm.

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“My name is Nessie. The Mirrorshades hired me to work at the Inn almost five years ago and now I wouldn’t leave it for the life of me. It’s wonderful here, with new faces passing through every day.” “Who are the Mirrorshades?” I asked. “Oh, Bentley and Gellana. They run the place. Bentley’s behind the bar, there, and you can usually find Gellana in the temple. I’m usually here, waiting tables and making sure everything stays nice and clean.” “This place is a fortress. Why all the security?” “Bentley wanted the inn to be a safe haven for all sorts of travelers. Anyone can stay here but we don’t tolerate any troublemaking within these walls.” “Did Bentley build this place? It’s so solid, it looks like it’s been here forever!” “Oh no, Bentley and Gellana didn’t build the Inn! They found it…They were part of an adventuring party, not unlike your own. In the first few years following the Time of Troubles, when all the gods were walking the surface of our world, the inn was actually the hold of a powerful, undead priest of Bhaal, god of murder. With the evil cleric weakened by the death of his god, Bentley and Gellana were able to destroy him once and for all, thus laying claim to his troubled fortress.” Bentley himself, when I shared an ale with Jaheira and Khalid at the bar, was taciturn, answering any query with a grunt or a few words. However, I did overhear various speculations on who was responsible for the iron weakness and the bandits. The most commonly cited culprits were the Zhentarim, who I thought lived somewhere to the east, or agents of Amn. Amn is a large country, not too far south of the inn. In fact, Nashkel is within its northern border. Paradoxically, the inn was so busy because many people were afraid to travel because of the bandits, and were waiting out the trouble here. When I went to my room that night an amusing incident occurred. I was climbing the stairs, which opened directly to a hallway on each floor, to reach the level where I had been assigned when a noble suddenly popped out of a room, and pushed a load of clothes into my arms. He crossly said, “About time you showed! Here, I need these tunics cleaned and pressed by this eve, and be extra careful with the golden pantaloons! It took 15 women and a small boy from Calimshan 12 days and 4 nights to weave them, so careful on the seams! Well? Get going!” I admired the pantaloons, which seemed to have been woven with gold thread, and were obviously worth more than all the possessions I had owned in my entire life. I regretfully informed him of the truth. “Much as I have always dreamed of owning golden pantaloons, I must confess that I am not the cleaner that you were expecting.” “Not the cleaner? Not the cleaner?! Oh well, my mistake. I thank you for your honesty, I thank you for not stealing the pantaloons, and I will thank you kindly not to mention the padding in the codpiece. Good day.” He snatched the clothes back, and slammed his door.

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Nashkel The next day we headed south for Beregost, the last major city before reaching the border of Amn. Mid-morning a messenger caught up to us, on his way south. He briefly paused to share the latest news. “Must dash to Beregost, I must! Governor Kelddath must be told of the extra troops being sent his way! Beregost is to be garrisoned in case of Amnish attack, though Amn has denied such intent. Of course they would deny it, the snakes! Make way for the messenger!” I made a special effort to search out an ogre along the way; a guest at the Friendly Arm had told of being robbed by one. With the woods lore of Jaheira and Khalid, we quickly located him. Once located, the ogre proved a fearsome opponent. Although awkward, his mighty blows when they connected sent Khalid or me flying. The six of us were just able to overwhelm him. Although I had taken some hard knocks, I thought I had done alright in only my second real taste of combat. Xzar, although he had taken almost no part in the combat, heartily called out to his halfling companion at the end, “HaHAR there Montaron! Quite the fight, eh chum!” I had cracked several ribs. Khalid was in even worse shape, with one arm hanging limply, but Jaheira insisted on using her healing magic on me first. The little she had left was not enough to completely heal him; he would have to wait another day for Jaheira to regain her magical abilities. I went over to Khalid, to thank him for his help, wishing there was something I could do for him. I rested my hand on his broken arm; to my surprise, I felt an outward flow of something, it almost felt as if some of my own blood had passed through my palm into his arm. He yelled, feeling a sudden pain, but later that day claimed his arm felt better, even using it a little. I was shocked. Gorion had vainly attempted to instruct me in the use of magic. Only Imoen had shown any interest, not me. Of course, what I had done, if it had been anything at all, was not like the individual harnessing of energy Gorion had described. It was more like the clerical miracles performed by people like Jaheira, though I worshiped no special god that should grant me such powers. It was something I would have to ponder on when I had the chance. There were no more incidents on the way to Beregost, although I found my companions enough of a trial. After Xzar spouted some incoherent babbling, Jaheira stated, “You are amusing, in a ‘what the hell is wrong with you’ kind of way.” “Oh speak no more,” spoke Xzar, waving his finger at her, “lest ye gorge my sweet tooth!” A little later Xzar decided he would rather spin than walk, and started to twirl himself in circles. He rotated erratically, nearly colliding with Jaheira. She angrily declaimed, “Keep your distance. I doubt your motives are as you claim.” “I’ll not be mocked,” stormed Xzar, “thou most slanderous harlot!” Everyone was quiet for a while after this, until after the midday meal Jaheira suddenly made a comment to Xzar.

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“Do you claim to fight evil while you are diabolic yourself?” “Why must you goad us into other peoples concerns?” he said. “Can you not just let us mind our own enterprise?” This was enough to set off Montaron, who said to Jaheira, “‘Tis a wonder you’ve lived as long as you have.” Khalid, who seemed to find it hard to say something bad about anyone, stated, “S- Sharpen your tongue elsewhere. Everyone deserves a chance.” A little later, Xzar turned his tongue on me, commenting, “I’ve no wish to strain our relationship, but you did promise to go to Nashkel. Our delay is making me rather… tense. I’m not nice when I’m tense.” “Ye waste my time and test my patience!” seconded Montaron. “To Nashkel we must go!” I was glad when we finally reached Beregost. I foolishly expected some relief from bickering, but as soon as we walked in the door of Feldepost’s Inn a man accosted me. “‘Ere now, get out! I don’t like your type in here!” “Heh, you tell ‘em Marl,” agreed his companion. I ignored him, following Jaheira to the bar to arrange rooms for the night. I was standing beside Jaheira while she negotiated a price when I suddenly noticed the man, Marl, standing by my side. “Hey! I told you to get lost!” he yelled challengingly. “Ain’t no room here for ye trouble makin’ strangers!” “No need to get all bent out of shape,” I tried to placate him. “There’s plenty of bar for us all.” “Hey, I take whatever shape I want! I’m sick of you freakish adventurers going out, consorting with gods know what, and dragging your trouble back into my home town! What do you say to that!?” “I just do what I think is right,” I told him. “We solve a lot more trouble than we cause. Well, very nearly anyways.” My reply sounded weak, even to me. It didn’t help I had added a nervous little laugh to the tail end of my statement. “Oh you think it’s funny do you?!” My words had only served to enrage him further. “You mess up the local economy with your treasure, you upset the balance of nature, you flash your magic around, and because of it maybe somebody’s son thinks it’s fun and goes out and gets himself killed! It’s a bad example and somebody ought to kick your ass for it!” “Hold on!” I now had some idea what the real reason was that he was angry, and that it had nothing directly to do with me. “Everyone goes their own path, and I’ll not be held accountable for what the Fates deal.” “He was a good boy ‘til your kind came through town!” Marl continued yelling, but his voice was strained with sorrow. “Filled his head with nonsense they did, and because of it he’s dead! Now why shouldn’t I take that out of your hide?!”

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“If you knew him like you think, then ask yourself if he wouldn’t have gone anyway. It’s a calling you’re born with. Nobody gives it to you.” “‘Tain’t true! He was going to take over the farm and settle down. Maybe apprentice with Thunderhammer during the winter. He never wanted to adventure.” “That was what you wanted, Marl!” corrected his friend, who had also come up to the bar. “Fun’s fun, but yer blaming these folk fer what couldn’t be helped. That boy was a firebrand if ever there was...” “No! He was settling down!” Marl shook his head sadly. “He wanted…he wanted...” His friend continued relentlessly. “That new plow ye bought last year, he got the gold by helping clear kobolds near Ulgoth’s Beard. He wanted to make a difference, make the Realms a bit safer. Just like these folk most likely.” “By Chauntea, why couldn’t he just stay home?!” “The Realms call, and you go,” I stated. The realms, or something, seemed to have called me. “He sounds a fine lad taken too soon, but doing what he was meant. If you’ll suffer my company, I’ll buy a round and toast his memory with you.” “‘Twould be fitting, I suppose.” After I bought him and his friend a drink, he raised his mug. “To Kennair Nethalin! Rest ye well! I…I would be alone awhile.” “Well…’tis the calmest I done seen him in a week,” said his friend, but he then cautioned me. “Still, best you move along. Marl ain’t known for his steady moods.” I stayed in the common room a while, catching up on the rumors. As for the iron shortage, this close to Amn most people blamed them. It was unusual to note that even iron taken from existing stockpiles showed signs of the crumbling disease when made into implements. I also heard word of the ruins of the Ulcaster school of magic to the southeast. In the same area was the Firewine Bridge, the remnant of some sort of settlement. When I went up to my room after gathering these rumors I found Imoen had a present for me. She gave me a fine cloak. Its narrow weave and fur lining promised both that it would shed water and protect from the cold. I wondered where she had gotten the money to afford it, perhaps having stolen it before she left Candlekeep. I was so touched by the gift, however, that I didn’t have the heart to question her. I was standing in my room after Imoen left, admiring the flow of the new cloak I was wearing, when Xzar suddenly opened the door and burst in. He hadn’t bothered to knock, and started babbling about how important it was we get to Nashkel. Otherwise, what he was saying didn’t make any sense. I nervously fingered my new cloak, wishing I knew what he was really up to. He suddenly stopped talking, and just stood looking at me with a glazed expression. I impatiently asked him what he wanted. To my surprise, he replied. “Well, my good friend, perhaps you’d like to know a little more about me? I’m part of an order known as the Zhentarim. We’ve been sent to learn why the Zhentish name has been slandered along the Coast Way. It would seem that someone has been trying to make our order look bad.” Surprised, I asked him to leave. He did so without demur.

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The next morning I told Jaheira I had learned Xzar was a Zhentish agent, although I didn’t explain exactly how I found out. I didn’t actually know why he had told me, unless it was another facet of his incipient insanity. Jaheira was anxious to confront our two companions, and made a thinly veiled jab at Xzar as soon as he appeared. “I know not your goals, but you are nearly Zhentish in spirit. ‘Tis disgusting.” “Usually everyone proves themselves,” added Khalid, “but there is something… disturbing about you. I don’t want to seem c-confrontational, but could you be a little less…well…evil?” “Ah yes, the chatter of friends and compatriots!” Xzar was cheerful, seemingly ignoring the content of what he had just heard. “Does it not warm the cockles?” “I had thought none could be so beyond the bounds of goodness,” tried Khalid again. “Certainly you need h-help.” “I begin to see your true nature, and ‘tis as I expected,” snarled Xzar, his mercurial mood changing. “None are as insufferably righteous as Harpers!” Xzar and Montaron attacked Jaheira and Khalid. I wasn’t sure if I agreed with Jaheira’s direct tactics, but I knew who I supported. I drew my blade, attacking the Zhentish agents, Imoen joining me as well. We concentrated our attacks on Xzar, killing him before he could get a spell off. That gave Montaron time to make his escape. As he vanished through a nearby window, he called out, “And the mad wizard falls! Saves me the trouble!” We passed along a few gold pieces to the innkeeper to clean up the mess. With the other troubles about, no one was too interested in investigating a brawl among strangers. We later learned before we left Beregost that not only was there no sign of Montaron, but Xzar’s body had vanished as well, perhaps spirited away by his companion using hired help. When we left the inn, a young man approached, an instrument case across his back. “Hail, adventurers. I have a pretty proposal for you. I have heard that you’re an excellent group of warriors. How would you like a well-paying job as bodyguards for my mistress?” I looked towards Jaheira for instructions, but she just shrugged. I replied, “We’re always on the lookout for money, tell us more.” “I’m Garrick and I work for Silke Rosena. She’s the most skilled musician and actor along the Sword Coast; in fact, she’s to play at the Ducal palace before the month’s done. But…she’s been having some problems of late. Some thugs have been hired by Feldepost to hurt her bad, because she didn’t perform at his inn when she was supposed to. You can’t blame her for not showing up, what with a villain like Feldepost running the place. She needs mercenaries to protect her until she’s ready to go to Baldur’s Gate. She’s willing to pay about 300 gold. What do you say?” “That sounds fair, why don’t you show us to this mistress of yours.” I saw nothing wrong in protecting a woman from thugs. “I think you’ve made a good decision, now just meet me outside of the Red Sheaf Inn.”

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We followed him to meet with his employer. Garrick introduced her, “This is my mistress; Ms. Silke Rosena.” “Greetings mercenaries, I am Silke, thespian extraordinaire. I see my Garrick has been rather busy. You look as if you’re worth paying a little extra; what did my little helper offer you?” “I offered them 300 gold, just like you told me,” said Garrick. “I’ll raise your wage to 400 gold. Well then, I assume that Garrick has explained what your duties are. You must simply dispose of the ruffians when they come to threaten me. They shouldn’t be too hard to deal with, but I would advise you to strike fast. Whatever you do don’t speak with them. One of them is a mage whose mystic words can sway even the most wise of men.” Although Garrick had aroused no such feeling, I felt uneasy in Silke’s presence. I silently fretted for several minutes until three men approached. “Here they are now: Feldepost’s thugs,” whispered Silke. “Strike when I tell you to.” “Greetings Silke,” said one of the men. “We’re here as you’ve asked, and we have the…” “Don’t try to threaten me!” interrupted Silke. “I won’t be easy prey for you to beat on, I’ve brought friends!” “What are you talking about? We’re here with the gems that…” “Shut up! There’ll be no weaseling out of this one. Strike now! Kill them all!” I may sometimes be taken in by practical jokes or con artists, but Silke’s lies were completely transparent. I vexedly told her, “Stop this madness, we won’t murder those who are obviously innocent men.” “Our deal is off!” she cried. “In any case, you’re probably too cowardly to be any good in a fight. I’ll deal with them myself, after I deal with you!” She attacked us, to my surprise, since she quickly fell to the four who opposed her. “We thank you for stopping the evil witch before she killed us,” said one of the men at the end of the combat. “Here, take this as a token of our appreciation.” He handed me a potion, and the three of them left. “Silke’s dead!” chimed in Garrick, who had taken no part in the combat. “I guess she had it coming; you can’t be evil like her and expect to get away with it. I’m out of a job now. Would it be too much to ask if I could join up with you?” “No problem,” I said, figuring we could always use more help. I belatedly looked towards Jaheira, but although she was frowning, she didn’t gainsay my choice. While I was in town, I decided to check on one of the scholars who visited Candlekeep. Sure enough, Firebeard Elvenhair was at home, and graciously received me and my companions. “Ah, you’re old Gorion’s ward, the lonely kid of Candlekeep! Of course! I heard about the loss of Gorion, and I must give you my deepest condolences. I hope since

20 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast you’ve left Candlekeep, you’ve kept up on your reading... Oh, the world of books... Ah, you have been generous to an old man,” (I had performed some errands for him while he was at Candlekeep), “so I will be generous in turn. Let me give you a book. It is a touch darker than what you might normally read, but I get a sense that you might enjoy it, nonetheless.” The book, “The History of the Dead Three,” when I had a chance later to look at it, was about the gods Bane, Bhaal and Myrkul. It explained how they had started as mortals and only achieved godhood later. I knew Bane and Bhaal had died during the Time of Troubles; I thought Myrkul had as well. I guess if a mortal can become a god, it isn’t so unusual that a god can die like a mortal. We visited several shops to stock up on supplies before setting forth, and decided to have a meal at the Red Sheaf Inn before leaving. As we entered, a surly dwarf blocked my passage. “You’re at the end of your rope I’ll wager. Not that it’s anything personal, you understand, but I’m afraid your time on this here ball of mud is just about done.” “Why are you doing this?” I protested, knowing it would do no good. “I’ve done nothing to you.” “You’ve done nothing to anyone, far as I know,” he agreed. “Don’t matter one whit to me. A price is a price and a head is a head, and whenever the two meet, there’s old Karlat makin’ his living. Like I said, it’s nothing personal.” We were forced to kill him. I was sourly amused to find a bounty notice on his body. The price on my head had risen to 350 gold. Although the bloodletting hadn’t done wonders for my appetite, we still decided to eat there. As I was finishing eating Jaheira brought a woman she had met over to the table. The woman had a request. “My husband had to make a sudden business trip to Amn and I’m so worried for him. ‘Mirianne,’ he always said. ‘Mirianne, who knows the road better than old Roe?’ But the highways just aren’t as safe as they once were and there hasn’t been a messenger from Amn here in months. Could you keep your eyes open along the southern roads and let me know if you find anything?” Just south of Beregost, we found two ogrillons, strange ogre crossbreeds, standing over the body of a halfling. After we killed them, we found a note one had taken off the halfling. We returned to Beregost, since the note said: My dearest Mirianne, The road has been difficult but I have arrived safely here in Amn. I think it would be wisest if I returned by sea, however, perhaps sometime after the first snows have fallen. I trust this letter reaches you. The halfling I hired to carry it struck me as an honest enough chap. Always and forever, Roe It was good news for Mirianne, but bad news for the family of the nameless halfling. We returned to the southern road. We defeated a band of hobgoblins who had been preying on travelers, also meeting a hunter, Bub Snikt.

21 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

I talked to Jaheira and Khalid as the day wore on, learning a little more about them. Jaheira glared as she spoke about her past. She said that she was born in the Tethyr region to a loyalist of the King Alemander regime, unfortunately during the Tethyrian civil war. Her family was among the nobles targeted by the angry mobs of peasants, and she was only spared because a servant girl took her from their castle before it fell. They fled into the forest of Tethyr and stumbled across an enclave of Druids willing to take the child. Jaheira grew up a very headstrong girl, believing that the only way to protect nature was to have an active role in the world. She seemed to have little in common with Khalid, but although her manner was often confrontational, she apparently cared deeply for him. Her admiration of Gorion was obvious, and she plainly stated that whomever was responsible for his death would suffer an equal fate. Khalid nervously said that he was born and raised in the nation of Calimshan. I couldn’t get him to speak much of his parents, but it seemed his merchant father paid him little heed, instead concentrating his attention on his half-brothers. Of his mother, from whom he must have inherited his elvish blood, he said nothing. When asked about how he knew Gorion he would only say that they had long been friends and that many shared acquaintances would mourn his loss with harpsong. When he tried to speak of Jaheira he stuttered into incoherence, but his love for her was obvious. “Khalid, my dear,” teased Jaheira, “‘twould take a sailor to untie that tongue.” “Please J-Jaheira, you needn’t be so…s-so” stuttered Khalid. “Beautiful?” asked Jaheira sweetly. “Ye…no, stay beautiful. Despite yourself.” I smiled at their exchange. I was also a little jealous at their shared love, nothing like it yet having come my way. It was past noon when we encountered a mercenary working for the Flaming Fist, the organization which officially provided for law and order in these lands. He accosted us, “You there! You’re under arrest for banditry, and highway robbery! We know you’re part of that bandit group who’s been terrorizing the Coast Way. Give yourselves up or there will be…trouble.” “You’ve got the wrong guys,” I impatiently replied, “we’re not part of any bandit gang.” “Really now, and why should we believe you?” I noticed he used we, even though he was by himself. If we had actually been bandits, it would have been no trouble at all to take him out. “Look sir, we really don’t want any trouble. Like you, we’re hunting down bandits in the region.” “So you’re hunting the bandits. Well, who hired you to take on the bandits, or are you doing it out of the goodness of your heart.” I had to control a sudden spurt of anger. This idiot obviously needed all the help he could get, but he was doing as much as possible to discourage us. “No one hired us. We’re adventurers who are just trying to help out the people of the Sword Coast.”

22 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

“All right, maybe I was wrong about the bunch of you. You’re free to go.” We were just north of Nashkel when we encountered a nobleman traveling the other direction. He halted his carriage to talk to us, introducing himself as Lord Foreshadow. He then commented on our appearance. “Well, don’t you just add to the local color. Quite the smashing bit of dress you wear there. I’ll have to look into such sundries when I next attend one of Lord Ribald’s full dress costume affairs. I’d be the talk of Neverwinter, I would.” “Am I to understand that you are from that far away city?” I politely asked. “Oh, I actually hail from Waterdeep. The great city of splendors has much more in the manner of social luxuries suited towards my particular tastes. I do, however, make a point of keeping in touch with Neverwinter, though I have only visited once previously. It was quite popular in those nights, if I recall correctly. I’m going to make a second trip in the coming year, and I’ll wager it will be as popular again.” It would be something to see a large city like Waterdeep. Even the city of Baldur’s Gate, which was much nearer, could probably fit a dozen Candlekeeps inside. After his carriage left we passed over the crest of a small hill, catching site of the small town of Nashkel. The Coast Way crossed over a small stream, the few buildings of the town clustered alongside the road. As we came abreast of the town’s only inn the commander of the local Amnish soldiery challenged us. “Identify yourselves!” Jaheira had already told me to answer anyone who asked that I was in charge, since she felt Khalid and she were already too well known along the Sword Coast, and she didn’t want premature word of her interest in the iron shortage to become common knowledge. “I am Rolanna and this is my band of fellow adventurers. I hear that this is a troubled region as of late. Allow me to put ourselves at your disposal during our stay here.” “If you’re seeking to resolve troubles, welcome. If you’re seeking to cause them, kindly take it elsewhere... Things are not good here, Rolanna.” “What things aren’t good? All I have heard are rumors and vague suspicions.” “Aye, what is good around here, anymore? Our iron is rotten and there is talk of demons in the mines. The lower levels have been all but abandoned until this crisis passes. And then there is the question of Commander Brage…ack, they have stripped him of that title but I use it yet... He killed his wife and children in a rage one night and all who saw him. Then he tore himself away and headed for the hills. He is out there still and still we mourn, as much for him as for those he’s taken... Fie on you, now! You have brought tears to the eyes of a soldier!” Since it was late, we entered the local inn, unoriginally called the Nashkel Inn, to book rooms. As we entered, a female warrior sauntered towards us. My heart sank even before she spoke. “Just fancy my luck seeing you stroll in here, bold as day! I expected a hunt and a chase from the description, but who am I to argue easy coins in the purse. May the Lord of Shadows guide you swiftly to your death!”

23 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast

“I would first know my attacker! Why are you doing this?” Of course, I should have known, after so many repetitions, this script by heart. “Who I am is unimportant, though my name is Neira. What I am, is a hunter of bounties, and on your head is a lovely little sum. Does this satisfy your request? I thought it wouldn’t. No matter.” We were forced to kill this overeager bounty hunter. From the proclamation on her body, the price on my head was up to 680 gold. I was troubled by a dream that night. I found myself outside the walls of Candlekeep, but the gate was barred and no one answered my calls. The voice of Gorion reached me, telling me I couldn’t go back, that I must go on. I started down the broad road away from the fortress, but I caught a glimpse of a narrow path leading off into the woods. Although narrow and winding, it somehow seemed a more fitting trail. I started off from the main road; it was difficult to leave, as if I was trying to swim to the bank of a raging river. I finally pulled myself free. As the trees closed around me I heard a deep, sinister voice, unlike any I had ever heard, but familiar somehow nonetheless. As I awoke, the words still echoed in my mind. “You will learn...” The next day we sought out the mayor. He gave us a hearty greeting. “Hello there! I recognize Jaheira in your group, so you must be the adventurers I was expecting. I am Berrun Ghastkill, mayor of Nashkel, and I am happy to welcome you. I am sorry we had to meet under these circumstances.” “What exactly is the trouble here?” “I can’t believe you haven’t guessed. Have you heard of the iron shortage? Well, Nashkel is in the thick of it. Our mine is all but shut down because the workers continually go missing, and what ore we do get is tainted somehow. I would send in the town guards, but we need them to protect our citizens from the bandits that raid our caravans. We need you to find out what is wrong in the mines southeast of town.” “I will do what I can.” “Thank you. You will be the toast of the town if you can help.” We also visited the temple of Helm, and the priest, Nalin, who ran it. The temple was quite a change from the shrine to Oghma which had been all I had known at Candlekeep. The interior was one huge hall; hundreds of worshipers could have stood in it at once. The priest greeted us. “Ah, intrepid adventurers at our door. Helm guards over all the Realms and his servants are at your disposal. The Vigilant One stands ready to mend thy ailments, and so divert the unyielding gaze of the Great Guide…for a suitable donation, of course. Just to demonstrate our mutual good will, you understand.” He paused, then spoke about a matter that was obviously important to him; surprisingly, it had nothing to do with the mine. “Helm watch over you and our poor lost brother, Brage. A finer Captain of the Guard could nary be found this side of Amn. Such a strange change for one so devout as he. One does not usually change so drastically without nefarious help. If there be an evil influence

24 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast on him, perhaps the harsh justice of the military should be stayed. He’ll find no quarter at the garrison, but if he came to the temple…well…his restitution need not be his life.” We purchased a few potions of healing before leaving. As we were walking out of town, a man stopped me, saying, “No, say not another word. I would not think of making you wait but a moment for your just reward. When 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 meager sum of 200 gold pieces, as well as the heartfelt thanks of all of Nashkel.” I corrected his error. “You must have made some mistake. I am not this man called Greywolf. Keep your money, it’s not mine to take.” “You are not Greywolf the bounty hunter? 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.” “What bounties are currently unclaimed?” I asked curiously. “Our captain of the guard is still on the loose. Keep your blade ready if you get anywhere near him. Very dangerous, he is. There is also a bit of foolishness with a local artist named Prism. Stole a couple of emeralds, he did. We seek their return, though Prism’s fate is of little concern.” He told us to ask for Oublek if we fulfilled any of his bounties.

Nashkel Mine It took several hours to reach the site of the mine. I talked to Garrick as we walked. He said he was part of a celebrated acting troupe called the Dale Wind Troubadours. They traveled the length of the coast from Neverwinter to Amn and often played to Dukes and other nobility. Indeed, few others could afford the cost of a performance when the group was at its peak. Garrick did not speak fondly of this time however, as the direction the group was taking left him dissatisfied with their conduct. He apparently discovered that performances were being used as distractions for thievery and declared he would have nothing to do with it. They had kicked him out, and he had been mostly traveling on his own since then. He claimed he had no idea of the evil Silke was capable of when he later came into her employ. I decided to try what had worked on Xzar. I concentrated on Garrick, willing him to believe me. His expression became a trifle more foolish than normal. When I asked him to describe his recent employment, he readily answered. “My name is Garrick, and my profession is music. I have a few skills with magic, and know quite a bit of lore. I have worked in the musical troupe of Silke for about 3 months.” My test had been successful. Garrick was guilty of no more than a little naïveté. My newly discovered ability to charm others should prove quite useful.

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Jaheira suggested we poke around on the surface a bit before attempting the mine itself. We rounded a large rock outcropping to find a man staring up at a face carved from the rock. The face, that of a woman, was twice as high as he. I make no claims to refined artistic sensibilities, but it seemed to me the face, although possibly based on an actual person, was one man’s idealized vision of female beauty. The sculpture had evidently been recently finished, since scaffolding still partly enshrouded it, and piles of rock chips clustered about the base of the face. Staring at the man, at the dust covering him and the cuts and blisters on his hands, it was obvious he had done all of the work himself, incredible as that seemed. “Ah, beauteous creature!” cried the man, still staring at the face. “Never should I have stolen these emeralds, but there was nothing else that would capture the majesty of thine eyes! I did what must be done, for I have left my shop, forgotten all my commissions, and spent all that I had. I must complete thee!” He suddenly noticed us, now that we were practically standing next to him. “Wait, there is someone here! Who are you? ‘Twas that relentless Greywolf who sent you, wasn’t it?” “I have nothing to do with anyone named Greywolf,” I assured him, “and nor would I want to.” “Thank Deneir, I thought I was done in. I am not cut out for a life on the run. Mayhaps you could help a foolish sculptor finish this epiphany? Please, guard this place, for surely Greywolf will come seeking the bounty on the gems. I will pay with my last possessions if you would do this one service for me.” “If it is so important, then I shall guard you as best I can. Yes.” I realized this must be the artist Prism we had been told of. He would need to make restitution for what he had stolen, but I saw no harm in letting him put the finishing touches on his work. “I thank you, for I cannot run from this place until my task is done. I have been using potions of speed to aid my work, and have not slept for days. She is beautiful, is she not? ‘Tis a monument to my foolishness. I saw her but once, on the outskirts of Evereska, and said nothing. I let thee pass from mine eyes, and mine heart hath cursed me for it!” We waited while he applied the final polish to his work. After almost drowsing in the bright, sunny, day I was surprised by a voice near at hand. “I have come for you, Prism.” The voice’s owner, an experienced traveler dressed in well-worn armor, had sneaked right up to us. “No! Not yet!” begged Prism. “My work is nearly done! Please, I implore you!” “Your sentiment is wasted on me, fool. You are but gold in my purse. Do you make your situation worse by hiring help to protect you? Who are you fools?” “Prism wishes only to finish his masterwork,” I answered levelly. “Why not let him? What harm can it do?” I didn’t add what I thought should have been obvious, that if any bounty was due, it rightfully belonged to us. “You should be more worried ‘bout the harm I can do! Never have I taken a bounty and not delivered! Now stand aside, that I might dispense with this fool and claim my prize. Or would you rather I go through you to get him? Consider well if he be worth your lives!”

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It had become apparent this must be the famous Greywolf. He meant not only to claim the bounty, but to kill Prism in the process. I drew my sword and placed myself between him and Prism. Greywolf did not hesitate to attack me. His confidence was not entirely unfounded; he was an expert with his blade. Khalid and I took several wounds, inflicting none, even given we should have had the advantage, attacking from both sides. Jaheira circled us, looking for a chance to use her staff, while Imoen fired arrows when she had a shot. Garrick merely stood back, playing music, which I guess was supposed to inspire us. Jaheira finally saw a chance to strike, and clouted Greywolf in the head. He was momentarily confused, which allowed Khalid and me to strike home as well. The blows he suffered were mortal. I took his sword, a fine magical weapon that served me well in the adventures to come. He didn’t look the type to have any family that would miss it. “Alas, my work is complete.” Prism was trembling, still looking at his creation. “Take what you will from my possessions, but leave the sparkle in her eyes. O sweet creature, My effigy to thee is done. Perhaps our paths shall cross in distant Realms, and I shall find the courage to call thy name. Ellesime!” Prism collapsed, his heart failing after the large number of potions of speed which he had consumed. The emeralds, which he must have intended for the eyes, were on his body. The emeralds themselves would satisfy the bounty; they must have soon been stolen if they had been added to the sculpture anyway. We buried the bodies of Prism and Greywolf together. I have heard several times people lament the death of Prism at so young an age, at the years of productivity that had been lost. But I have spoken to someone who studies such matters, and he pointed out Prism would not be so widely known if not for his last work, and particularly the tale surrounding the creation of the sculpture and his death. He had been almost unknown, toiling in a backwater of Amn, and otherwise probably would only have come to the attention of a few collectors long after his death of old age. The mine was marked by a large scar of exposed dirt and rock in the side of a hill. Piles of tailings from the mine were nearby. I saw Jaheira wore a grim look at this “blight on the landscape,” as she would refer to it. “Well I see no harm,” said Emerson, mine manager, when we asked permission to investigate inside the mine. “Indeed, we could be using the help. There be problems in the lower level, where we lost some workers. The men talk of things a-movin below, but who’s to say. The earth, she hides many things from sight.” We entered the mine. As soon as we were inside, one of the miners, divining our purpose, strode over to speak with us. “Hmm…more adventurers eh? I’d leave while you still can if I were you. I’ve heard awful stories about what’s been happening to those that go deeper into the mines.” “Why? What have you heard?” “Well, my friend Ruffie barely escaped with his life he did. Little demon’s jumped out of the very walls and chased him down. He’d be dead now if it weren’t for the guards that came running. Course…them guards are dead now. Old Ruffie’s around here somewhere. You ask him what he saw and he’ll tell ya.”

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I asked around until I found this Ruffie. He nervously asked, “Wha…what do you want?” “What did these demons look like?” “What did they look like!?! They looked like demons, ya blasted idiot!” We continued to look around. We heard that despite the troubles, production from the mine almost matched that of several months ago. However, anything cast from the metal refined from the ore which left the mine crumbled almost as soon as it was made. In a mine cart, full of ore, I noticed sticky residue sticking to the lumps of material. It seemed odd, although of course I knew nothing about mining. There were guards about for the miners. Most of those I questioned dreaded going deeper into the mine, for fear of the “demons.” However, one guard who I questioned, with former experience as a mercenary, told me he had faced opponents below, but they were merely kobolds. Having learned as much as we could, Jaheira led us deeper into the earth. As we reached the intersection of the tunnel we were descending with another, a miner suddenly ran into the intersection from our left, yelling in fear to us. “They’re coming— The yipping demons, they’re everywhere! Save me!” “Never fear,” I reassured him, “we shall protect you from any harm!” “But I— There they are! There they—” Four creatures came leaping out of the tunnel he had just come from. Faces resembling that of a dog, they were tiny, barely coming to my waist in height. A few blows and the four were dead. In fact, they were common kobolds. We thoroughly searched this section of the mine, killing numerous kobolds. On several corpses we found vials, containing a strange green substance similar to the residue we had seen in some of the mining carts. The liquid inside was likely related to the mysterious “plague” that rendered smelted weapons and tools brittle. It seemed that the kobolds were attempting to taint all ore before it left the mine, although as Jaheira pointed out it was unlikely that the kobolds themselves had thought up this plan. We finally penetrated down to a level where the caverns were natural. We entered a cleft in a wall which opened into several connected chambers. The one we had entered was foul, littered with the bones of miners and guards who had been killed. Beyond, another cave was fitted as living quarters. Carpets lined the floor, while several oil lamps cast a bright glow. A half orc was in the chamber. “Tazok must have dispatched you,” he cried in dismay at our appearance, “and my traitorous kobolds let you pass, didn’t they? I knew I could not trust them! Armed as such you have obviously been sent to kill me! By Cyric, not a measure of ore leaves this mine unspoiled and I am still to be executed?! I’ll not lose my head over this!” “No one sent us,” I corrected him, “but thy head is in no less danger! Reveal thy treachery, and mayhaps we will be merciful!” “Tazok did not send thee? Then thou art dead. Help, my minions, HEEELLLPPP!!”

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Several kobolds rushed into the room, while some of the bones in the first chamber gathered themselves into skeletons. The sight of the skeletons did not frighten us, not even Garrick. Their bones were brittle, their motions awkward and slow, so they were as easily defeated as the kobolds. While the other dealt with them, I found myself facing the half-orc cleric. He was not a skilled fighter, and after several of my blows landed, and he saw his help defeated, he yelled out. “I yield, I yield to thee! Accept my surrender?” “As well you should!” I noticed Imoen was circling behind him, and nodded approval at her action. “Tell us what has been happening here, and you may yet leave alive!” “I thank thee for thy mercy! There in the chest are all my letters. Take them and leave me be. I will bother you no more.” He delayed several moments longer, while I attempted to learn if the chest was trapped, and where the key was located. His eyes suddenly widened in triumph, and he yelled, “Fools, you’ll never have the chance to take anything! Minions, come forth and kill the intruders!” He had been waiting for more kobolds, and the rest necessary to create more skeletons. These new minions attacked the rear of the group, but were as easily dispatched as their predecessors. Mulahey, for such was the name of the cleric, died from a thrust of Imoen’s blade. “If man is known by the company he keeps,” crowed Garrick, pleased by what had occurred, “I shall be thought of gloriously.” We had certainly solved the problem with the Nashkel mine, but it was obvious from the letters we found in his chest that this was only a small part of a much larger plan. The letters read: My servant Mulahey, I have sent you the kobolds and mineral poison that you require. Your task is to poison any iron ore that leaves this mine. Don’t reveal your presence to the miners or you will find yourself swamped by soldiers from the local Amnish garrison. My superiors have recently hired on the services of the Black talon mercenaries and the Chill. With these soldiers at my disposal, I should be able to destroy any iron caravans entering the region from the south and east. I don’t want to deal with iron coming from the Nashkel mines so don’t fail in your duty. Tazok My servant Mulahey, Your progress in disrupting the flow of iron ore does not go as well as it should. How stupid can you be to allow your kobolds to murder the miners?! With your presence revealed you should be wary of enemies sent to stop your operation. Your task is a very simple one; if you continue to show that you can’t do the job, you will be replaced. I will not send the kobolds you have requested as I need all the troops I possess to stop the flow of iron into this region. With this message I

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have sent more of the mineral poison that you require. If you have any problems then send a message to my new contact in Beregost. His name is Tranzig, and he’ll be staying at Feldepost’s inn. Tazok I felt good about what we had accomplished. No, what I felt was stronger than that. What we had done felt right. There had been a problem which needed to be confronted with swords and spells, and I had been one of those who solved it. I had found my calling. In another chamber, we found a prisoner. After we freed him, he told us what had happened. “It was unbearable; waking each morn to the mud and rock instead of the rising sun. I am Xan, a Greycloak of Evereska, and as proficient in the ways of magic as any man can be. If you be enemies of Mulahey I would join your cause, hopeless though it is.” “How did you come to be trapped in such an inhospitable place?” “Alas, I was sent to investigate the strange goings-on about this area and I landed caged for seemingly hopeless weeks on end. I have not seen the sun almost as long as I have not seen my home.” “Certainly you are welcome to join with us. Another pair of hands can only help, especially when they wield powerful magics.” “I thank you. However ineffective our actions be, I shall not rest until I have made payment to you. If you have searched through Mulahey’s treasure you may have found a sword among his documents. The sword is a moonblade and it is my most valued possession.” We returned his moonblade, then settled down to rest after the combat we had experienced in the mine. I had another dream. I passed through the cleansed passages of the mine, until I reached the chamber next to the one where I slept, Mulahey’s room. His bloated corpse stood before me. A dagger of bone hovered in front of the corpse; I knew it but waited my hand to drive it home, to sentence him to some horror beyond death. I refused the opportunity. A look of surprise, even thankfulness, appeared on Mulahey’s face before his corpse vanished. His disappearance kindled a spark of hope within my breast, a spark which I sensed enraged a will which sought to cage me. The dagger rotated, until I could look down its point. I felt a wave of rage, and the dagger suddenly rushed towards me. Just before it contacted, I awoke, the same voice from my previous dream calling, “You…Will…Learn!” We found an exit that led directly to the surface not far from Mulahey’s chamber, although we had to fight several oozes, puddles of living goo, before we could use it. We emerged some distance from the mine entrance. It was bright and sunny, which did not prevent Xan from making a depressing remark. “The sun shines, and I am amazed we live to see another day.” Not far from where we emerged we encountered four female warriors. One called out to me, as if she recognized me.

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“You there, is your name Rolanna? Hurry up and answer. Your answer better be the truth, for your life depends upon it.” “Yes my name is Rolanna, what of it?” “That is good. My companions and I have tracked you for many days and I am to give you a message. You and your friends are to die. Your interference with the Iron Throne may have caused some minor setbacks, but die knowing that your actions were mostly futile.” “We delude ourselves to think our pitiable band will stand up to our enemies,” said Xan as they attacked. More bounty hunters. They were skilled with their weapons, and two of them were clerics as well. It was a difficult fight, but one we managed to win. Xan, although fond of dire pronouncements, as witness his battle cry, “Onward, to futility!” proved an able ally. I had to smile at myself when we found no bounty notices on their bodies, since I was anxious to know the current price on my head. “Perhaps we’ll survive longer than I had originally thought,” stated Xan after the battle, the most positive statement I had heard him utter. “My goodness, I think I’m dying,” suddenly announced Garrick. He had suffered a minor wound. I think Jaheira tended to it more to shut him up than out of any great concern for his well being. As we were returning to the mine opening, we met a mage. He urgently motioned to us to come closer. “Come quickly,” he yelled, “you are just in time for my experiment!” When Jaheira asked what kind of experiment he was attempting, he said, “I believe I have developed a spell to empathically control any gelatinous creature and bend it to your will. Slimes, jellies, oozes, all of these things that foul the cook’s cellar and the adventurer’s dungeon can now be controlled and eradicated with an ease and efficacy never before seen in the history of the Realms. It takes an entire hour to gain such control, but that time will be minimized with further experimentation, I am sure. In moments, that hour will be up for a small number of mustard jellies that I have released into the nearby woods. We shall soon bear witness to the results of my endeavor.” The thought of our recent combat fresh in her mind, Jaheira asked if he would share the spell with our spellcasters. The mercurial mage took affront, “I have worked years for this and you seek its benefits in mere seconds? Nay, you not only seek them, you expect them! The spell is mine and you’ll not take it from me! Come jellies, let us make our mark upon the world!” We were forced to end the life of the mage, and destroy his pets. Xan praised Jaheira after the battle. “Around you I almost feel that we have a chance.” Jaheira didn’t respond, perhaps not knowing what to say to such an odd congratulation. Xan talked as we walked. He was a Greycloak out of Evereska. It was apparently decreed that he was to investigate the events of the iron shortage, determine who or what were the causes, and ascertain whether there was a greater threat to the region as a whole.

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This was definitely not a small task, and he accepted the responsibility with a great deal of dread. I got the feeling, however, that he approached everything with a great deal of dread. He had concentrated on his magical abilities, to the detriment of friends or other pastimes. I wondered upon his long-term effect on morale, however, if he remained with the group. I used my charm ability to ask him about himself. He said, “It is my duty to watch over the political events of the human nations along our borders. From what I have learned so far, there is some sort of mercantile organization known as the Iron Throne that has been trying to cause turmoil along the Sword Coast. To what end I could not tell you, as I was captured before learning any more.” That name, the Iron Throne, had come up again. I noted it for future attention, alongside the name Tazok. We informed the mine manager of what we had found, and when we returned to Nashkel turned in the Prism emeralds for the bounty. The mayor was happy with what we had done, saying, “You have returned! It would seem I was right to trust you. The town thanks you wholeheartedly, and is pleased to give you the proper reward. Please take this 900 gold for your efforts. It is a small fortune by anyone’s standards. Thank you again.” Just outside the Nashkel Inn, a man approached us. Actually, he approached me, and spoke. “I am Death come for thee. Surrender, and thy passage shall be…quicker.” “What? I’m not surrendering to anything!” I declared. “Struggle if you must, dead-one, I do not mind working for my money. Why Nimbul has been hired to deal with the likes of you, I’ll never know.” He was skilled with his weapon, even more so than Greywolf, but once again the presence of my companions proved the difference in his defeat. He had a letter from his employer on his body. Nimbul, The money you have received from Tranzig should cover your usual fee. Your assignment is a difficult one, but I’m sure that you are up to the task. There is a group of mercenaries who should be coming through Nashkel in the next few days. They are led by a whelp named Rolanna. You are to kill Rolanna, and all that travel with her. I warn you; they might not look like much, but they are very dangerous. Good hunting! Tazok My opponents were now seeking out talented assassins specifically to send them on my trail. The name on the letter was also significant, since Tazok was already associated with the iron shortage. This was the first hard evidence that the attempts on my life and the iron shortage were related.

Gnoll Stronghold Jaheira came to me, and told me she had decided it was time I experienced leading a party on my own. She and Khalid were leaving to do some independent investigation of

32 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast the iron shortage and the bandit problem. She suggested I do some adventuring in the Nashkel area, to gain what she called some “seasoning.” They would meet up with us in Beregost in about two weeks. Right after she left, Xan came to me, saying “I apologize if I seem abrupt, but I must be leaving, and quickly.” He had to report to his superiors, but promised we might run in to each other again, assuming we all weren’t killed in the interim. His last words were, “While my stay with you was admittedly fruitless, it has, at least, been fun. I might even enjoy sharing another ill-fated adventure with you, should you ever require the use of my considerable talents.” Garrick as well was leaving, to make his own way as a traveling bard. He seemed a little sad to part company, but as he said, “Ah well, I suppose it will give me the opportunity to work on this new ballad I’ve been thinking of…I bet you’ll never guess who the protagonists are!” The party I was leading was down to two people, Imoen and me. I decided to look around Nashkel for recruits. I first talked to a strange, bald headed warrior, who I found simply enough standing in the main (and only) street. He had odd purple tattoos on his head, with a two-handed sword swinging from his back. “I agree Boo, they look to be friendly,” he greeted us. I was surprised at his words, since he had no companion. “Greetings, we are Minsc and Boo. We have traveled far to explore this land, but now my charge Dynaheir has been taken from us. ‘Twas gnolls, and once we have tracked them I will beat sense into their heads until they release her. Accompany us and bards will sing the deeds of Minsc and Boo…and friends.” A small rat, what I later learned is called a “hamster,” was peeping out of a pouch at his belt. I realized that “Boo” was this creature. “Excuse me, but are you speaking to a rodent?” I asked, surprised. “Boo is my faithful animal companion, and more than he seems.” “The classic dilemma of the damsel in distress! How could anyone decline!” Here was a goal I could work towards. “Take heart fellow adventurers, for you have curried the favor of Boo, the only miniature giant space hamster in the Realm! My friend and companion ever since my h- h-head wound, he will lead us to victory! Onward to the Gnoll Stronghold in the west! Tarry not! We must go soon!” I searched around a bit more, coming across a mage dressed in red. He took one look at the group with me, and called out. “I am the wizard Edwin and I require you!” He muttered to himself, but loudly enough I could hear, “Yes, they will do nicely.” He then struck a commanding pose, and told me, “I would have you kill a witch, the witch Dynaheir. She is treacherous, but with your participation, I foresee no difficulty. Will you assist?” I was surprised to find someone else interested in this Dynaheir. “Why would you have this woman dead? Am I to kill her without knowing?”

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“Frankly, yes. It is no concern of yours. You need but perform the act with no questions. What is your answer?” I felt uneasy with Edwin, a feeling I did not get with Minsc. However, Dynaheir was an unknown. I felt I would learn more about what was going on if I agreed to Edwin’s conditions and allowed him to accompany us. “I would know the price you offer before I take the job.” “The prize I offer would surely be beyond measure in your meager understanding. Either take the job or not!” “It sounds but a simple task. I’ll do as you ask.” “Of course you will, it is as expected.” He muttered to himself, “I will lead them to her and she cannot hope to prevail.” He nodded sagely in my direction. “I will travel with you until the deed be done. I last heard of her traveling to the west of Nashkel, close to the gnoll stronghold located there.” I was in a local tavern when I overheard a man sitting at a nearby table say to his serving girl, “Ah yes, the…ah…tab. Um…another ale young miss, and I’ll be sure to have your funds ready.” She replied something to the effect that even the great Volo shouldn’t think of skipping out on a bill. I wondered if this could actually be the famous author, one of whose pamphlets I owned. I walked over and introduced myself, and to my surprise he allowed me to sit at his table. “Greetings fellow traveler,” said Volo, “for I see by your garb that you do not call this place home. Sit with me awhile, and enjoy the atmosphere of this fine fair while we recant tales of lands far and far-seeming. I have wandered the width and breadth of Faerun, but yet have I to find such hospitality, as that of a simple country festival. It’s a shame that the festivities are marred by the events as of recent, though they certainly put up a brave face, do they not? You look confused, so perhaps you know not of the local trouble that continues to vex the most gracious people of Nashkel. If you have just arrived I could, for the price of an ale and an ear, relate what I know. Shall I tell you of their mining difficulties, or relate the tale of their unfortunate commander of the guard?” Of course, I had already mostly solved the troubles in the mines, but I was still interested in what he had to say. “My companions and I have an interest in the mines. Tell me what you know.” “The word is, that all across the expansive Sword Coast, from the Cloudpeaks to Baldur’s Gate, an ore shortage is severely crippling local trade. Bandits—purportedly both human and demihuman—raid caravans, whilst ore reaching its destination becomes brittle and useless following smelting, strangely afflicted by an odd, iron-weakening plague. As though this were not cause for alarm in itself, production at the mine outside of Nashkel has fallen, with the substantially lower yields being blamed on nervous workers. Mysterious disappearances of several miners have set the whole area on edge, where something must shift the balance to one side, or the other.” “Would you consent to another tale? I also have an interest in the story of the Captain of the Guard.”

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“Just let me finish my drink, and then we can carry on through the wee hours with our tales.” He hastily finished his drink, and let me buy him another, before he continued. “I hear that Commander Brage, of the Amnish guard, has been missing for some weeks now following a strange alteration in his behavior. Where once he was a well thought-of family man, he has turned to senseless mayhem, effecting a rampage the likes of which I have never heard. His fellow soldiers noted nothing out of sorts that could trigger such a transformation, but one notable item seems relevant. If not for the iron shortage it would have gone unnoticed but, prior to his mad rage, the commander procured a new sword. The importance of this information, I have no way of verifying.” I ordered another drink for him, after which he started another tale. He had heard of what had happened in the mine, and I suspect recognized me, but had slyly kept back this information until now. “Many a story have I collected from across this great realm, though sometimes I am at a loss whether to believe them or not, due to their extraordinary circumstance. Such a tale is this, wherein lies the story of a band of hearty adventurers moving amidst the shadows of the land, effecting change where it is needed. I was enjoying the simple fare of the celebrations in Nashkel, when the strangest news hit the town. It would seem the mines, long plagued by unexplained deaths, had been inundated by a horde of ill- mannered kobolds, under the direction of a rather unscrupulous and hygienically suspect cleric of Cyric. Dispatching of the villain with appropriate brevity, the heroes freed the mine, and are the sole reason for the trickle of iron finally winding it’s way to the Gate now. None seem to recall their names, but the consensus agrees they were great of stature, and cut an impressive figure across the plains.” “An interesting story, to be sure. Well met Volo, and good luck on your journeys.” “And you as well. I am quite certain our paths will cross again.” I asked him to sign the pamphlet authored by him that I owned, then took my leave. We next went outside town to visit the great carnival which had set up business here. Due to the local problems, we were among the few visitors to the site. “Hi, come well and welcome!” greeted one showman, to a crowd consisting only of my companions and me. “You have stumbled upon The Great Gazib Show, starring yours truly, the Great Gazib!!! Allow me to introduce the Amazing Oopah, the world’s only exploding ogre!” He made elaborate motions with his hands, then an ogre appeared before us. Surprised, I took a step back. The ogre then exploded with a loud “phoom.” I dutifully tossed a few small coins in the hat provided for that purpose, while Imoen begged him to show us the trick another time. “Fun for the whole family! Now, let’s try that crowd pleaser one more time.” The ogre appeared again, and exploded. Imoen added some more coins, and pleaded for another show. I know how annoying she can be when she wants something, and the showman quickly came around. “You’re either a die-hard fan or a sadist, friend…” His eyes glazed over, as if he were looking inward, to some other place. “No, Oopah, just one more, one last one, then

35 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast you can go back to the tent…Oopah, put the weapon down—Oopah?” The ogre appeared, enraged, weapon in hand. The Great Gazib fled screaming. It was left to us to kill the ogre. We continued to wander about the fair. A tout called out as we passed. “Come one, come all! Take a look at the stone warrior maiden. How long has she been trapped in this petrified form, no one knows! Be the first to learn, for the mere price of 500 gold. For that small amount of money, I shall give you a magic scroll, and with this scroll you can release the maiden from her stone prison. Think of the gratitude she would feel to her saviors. Perhaps she’s a princess from some far off land, or maybe a powerful sorceress in search of a concubine. You can’t afford not to know! Buy the scroll!” The statue was a very lifelike representation of a woman, heavily armored and brandishing a mace. I convinced Edwin to grudgingly examine it, and he agreed it could be a magically transformed person. I returned to the Temple of Helm in Nashkel, which I recalled sold scrolls to convert stone to flesh much cheaper than the tout’s price. When I returned to the carnival, Imoen used the scroll on the statue. The stone form before us instantly became a living woman. “By the ice breath of Auril!” she yelled in relief. “‘Tis good to see new faces and taste freedom again. I am Branwen, a War-priest from the Norheim isles. I have been trapped in stone for what seems like an eternity. You have saved me, and for that I owe you my life. I am indebted to you and by Tempus I leave no debt unpaid! Let me join whichever cause you’re fighting for, I should make a valuable ally and bring the favor of the Lord of Battles upon us.” The tout who had been trying to sell us a scroll to free Branwen yelled out in fear, “The statue has come to life!!” and ran off. I looked after him curiously before replying to her. “We’re always on the lookout for another warrior.” We could also use someone with clerical talents. “I am glad to be part of your war party. I will not make you regret your decision. A word of caution though: beware of the dog that entrapped me in stone. Tranzig he called himself. He was in the employ of a mercenary group, but I do not know the name. I shall see him dead before I see the shores of home again!” When we returned to Naskel, Volo was just leaving town, going north. He had hired someone to carry most of his luggage. He hailed me, assuring me we would meet again. When he saw Branwen in the party, he winked, and left us with a few parting words. “‘Tis surprising what one can learn at a simple country fair, hmm?” We left Nashkel ourselves, headed west, towards the gnoll stronghold where Minsc believed Dynaheir was being held. I talked to Minsc as we walked, a trying activity as he kept on including Boo in his conversation, which as far as I could tell with closer observation was a completely ordinary animal. I learned that he was a berserker warrior from the nation of Rashemen in the utter east. He was currently undertaking his dejemma, a ritual journey to manhood, and was seeking adventure and glory in battle. As part of the

36 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast dejemma, he was also the bodyguard of a young Wychalarn of Rashemen named Dynaheir. He was unsure as to why she had led them to the Sword Coast, but his loyalty was unquestioning. If he served her well and distinguished himself in battle, he hoped to be accepted into the Ice Dragon berserker lodge upon return to their homeland. Minsc considered his most notable experience in the world abroad to be the acquisition of his animal companion “Boo,” a creature that he claimed was a miniature giant space hamster. It was my personal opinion that Minsc had surely taken too many blows to the head. I used my ability to charm him, but all I learned was that he was as he appeared. That didn’t necessarily mean Dynaheir was trustworthy. We had entered the foothills of the Cloudpeak Mountains. It was getting late in the day. A man holding a bow stepped into our path as we were passing through a lightly forested area. “Ah, weary travelers, well met!” he called out. “Neville, the fairest of all fair bandits, at your service. What may I do for you this hour?” “Well, for starters, you could tell your men in the bushes to drop their bows and step out into the open.” I had noticed he was not alone. “Did you find all five of them, then? Pity, I shall have to train them better. Anyhow, I’m afraid that I can’t abide by your wishes: my men would think me a coward to surrender in the face of such a paltry force. Truly, I see no other choice than to order them to fire at will and rob your sad corpses of any iron they may carry. Come men, I believe the choice before us is clear.” The bandit, who was human, and his five hobgoblin “men” attacked us. It was my first opportunity to see my companions in action. Minsc fearlessly charged the nearest hobgoblin wildly swinging his two-handed sword, Branwen close behind, mace in hand, yelling “Tempus! Give us victory!” Edwin, with his own cry of “Your worthless lives end here!” cast several spells, even while dodging a few arrows sent his way. Imoen was cool, as always, standing back firing arrows. The action did not last long. All of the bandits were down, while none of the party had suffered any serious injuries. Branwen was quickly able to heal what minor hurts there were with her clerical magic. We rested for a while afterward, allowing me time to speak to Branwen. She had left her home of Seawolf in the Norheim isles at an early age. She was apparently reviled by her own people for wanting to become a priest, a station reserved exclusively for the men of the village. She harbored no resentment, realizing that her faith must face such tests or be worthless. She traveled the coast, offering her services to local militias, and eventually came into the employ of an adventuring troupe in the Nashkel area. Branwen had no idea that the group was participating in banditry, however, and on their first raid she balked at attacking a caravan of unarmed merchants. A mage named Tranzig turned her to stone in the ensuing fight. Despite the unfavorable outcome, Branwen felt that Tempus viewed her actions approvingly, since to attack those that are unarmed is the basest of villainy. My charm ability verified that this account was truthful. As we continued, at some slight, probably just Minsc brushing against him, Edwin suddenly called out in a loud voice, “Must you crowd so close? ‘Tis bad enough I must walk with you chimps.”

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“Boo does not like your manner,” replied Minsc. “Away with ye.” “Watch your words when addressing me,” Edwin fired back, “lest they be fed to you on the end of my boot!” Shortly thereafter, we set up our camp for the night. It was after a meal, and I had already laid out my blankets for sleeping, as well as doffing my pack, armor and cloak, that I had an opportunity to talk to Edwin. When I questioned him about his past, he sneered that he did not intend to reveal such information, and that it was none of my business. He further stated that I was lucky enough to simply share his company, and then muttered something about leaving whenever he wished. After observing him during the day, he obviously cared little for the camaraderie of others, and seemed to take more pleasure in speaking to himself than in interacting with anyone else. His attire brazenly displayed the colors of the Red Wizards of Thay, though why a member of that organization would come so far west was puzzling. I had felt uncomfortable with him from first meeting him; I resolved to try my charm ability to get some useful information out of him. I concentrated on him, and asked why the Red Wizards had sent him. To my surprise, he angrily replied he had already refused to answer any questions, and if I hoped to live a long life, I should stop prying into his affairs. This was the first time my charm ability hadn’t worked. I would have to wait until we actually found Dynaheir, and see what happened then. We had to fight several groups of monsters the next day, and cross a small river. We rested the night, then continued on. On reaching a chasm, the only way forward was by means of a suspension bridge. Halfway across two half ogres entered from the other side, blocking our progress. One yelled to us. “Stop! You go nowhere! This our bridge, you pay to walk it!” “Yeah, you pay,” added the second. “200 for all heads, or lose heads!” “200 gold is a little steep, don’t you think?” I replied, steadily leading the others forward towards the half-ogres. “I mean, do I look like I have that kind of coin in abundance?” “O.K. maybe 200 gold too much,” allowed the second half-ogre. “Maybe you pay… 100 gold!” “100 gold for all heads, or lose heads!” agreed the first. “Pretty good deal!” “Still too much, I think.” I had just about reached the lead half-ogre by this point. “I’d rather just take a long route around.” “Your head so dumb you not miss it!” yelled the first one, readying his weapon. “Yeah!” agreed his companion. “We kill you, take stuff, and get gold anyway! Dumb head!” The half-ogres were so large that only one could fight on the suspension bridge at a time, while Minsc and I could both melee the lead half-ogre. With the aid of the others behind us, the lead creature, then the second, fell. On the other side of the bridge, we entered the gnoll’s stronghold. Roughly fitted stonework formed the towers, walls and buildings of their lair. I do not believe the gnolls

38 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast constructed it. They care little for manual labor, leaving that to their captives they do not eat; the constantly shifting, violent, alliances of various bands and factions within bands also tends to prevent the accomplishment of any long term goals. We faced a few dozen gnolls. Fortunately, we faced them in small groups at a time, since our entry came as a complete surprise to them. After we defeated their chieftain, what gnolls remained scattered. We freed a few goblin slaves, but most of their captives we found as dismembered, partially eaten corpses. Dynaheir, however, we located in a separate cell. Perhaps intimidated by her magic, or desiring her for a special sacrifice to some dark god, they had let her live. When we found her, I explained it had been at Minsc’s insistence that we had made the search. “Minsc continues to make the most…unique of acquaintances,” diplomatically commented Dynaheir, nodding in his direction. “To follow his charge thou art brave indeed. Thine assistance is most appreciated. ‘Twas a dastardly fate thou have saved me from.” Edwin yelled from where he was standing behind me, “Why do you stay the killing blow?! Kill her!!” I did not sense any of the wrongness from Dynaheir I felt from Edwin in abundance, not that I was about to kill anyone just because I was told to do so. “I see bravery was not all that motivates thee,” said Dynaheir coldly, noting Edwin’s red robes. “I take it I am rescued from one death to die by another then? How can the cause be just? I urge caution; the likes of him are best kept at pole-arms length. “ “Listen not to the witch’s lies!” protested Edwin. “We had a deal!” “Put aside his paranoid goals,” insisted Dynaheir. “I make a far better friend than enemy.” I agreed with her. It was likely she would prove a much better friend than Edwin. “A voice of reason at last. Join my group with no fear. I never liked him anyway.” “I knew intelligence would prevail,” she said. “Simple common-sense, the foil of every Red Wizard.” Edwin muttered, “If they’ll not do the deed then our deal is forfeit!” To me, he said, “You side with the witch then you will die with her! Beware my return!” “I should keep an eye towards Edwin,” warned Dynaheir, although I did not think he would have the courage to return by himself. “One can only expect treachery from his kind.” “This witch deceives you with her lies!” insisted Edwin, although it would have been obvious to anyone less self-absorbed that no one present was listening to him. “I tell you she is evil!” “Evil to thy cause? Perhaps,” allowed Dynaheir, “however, those of decent nature know otherwise.” Minsc had become incensed at the threat to his charge. “Lay a finger on what I protect and forevermore ye will answer nature’s call with a hook!”

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“There is no protection if you goad me further, witch!” yelled Edwin angrily. “Any protection would be courtesy, not necessity,” replied Dynaheir hotly. “My power is no less than thine!” “Her power is nothing without the will to use it!” said Edwin. “Step from behind your excuses and let us end this here!” “Stand ye not too close!” Minsc hefted his sword suggestively. “Dynaheir is under my protection!” “Thou shalt not question my will once I present thy neck to the Orthlor!” added Dynaheir. Branwen, Imoen and I moved to Dynaheir’s side. It had apparently sunk in to Edwin that he was challenging the entire party. He left. I made no move to stop him.

Cloud Peak Mountains I decided to take a somewhat more southerly route on my trip back to Nashkel, through the Cloud Peak Mountains on the northern border of Amn. The first day involved strenuous climbing up and down ridges. I questioned Dynaheir about her background. She was guarded in what she said. She confirmed what Minsc had told me, that she was from Rashemen, with Minsc warding her as part of his “dejemma,” a right of passage. Dynaheir seemed to be involved in something similar, but she would only state that great things were foretold for the Sword Coast. She was very sure of herself, seemed possessed with an old-world sensibility, and was very demanding of her companions. I decided to try my charm ability on her, asking why she had come to this region. Her reply was interesting. “I am Dynaheir, a witch of Rashemen. I and my comrade Minsc have been sent by the Wychalarn to determine if the prophecies of Alaundo are true. We search for the spawn of Bhaal.” An unexpected connection to Alaundo, whose prophecies I had heard chanted every day in Candlekeep. I doubted her mission to find a “Bhaal-spawn” would interfere with my own goals. In fact, I would willingly help her if I could, although I had no idea where such a thing could be found. I must admit I felt a little guilty using my charm ability to pry into her secrets, and was glad that she would not remember the conversation. Late on the second day, a pair of bandits stopped us. They brazenly stepped from the side of the trail into our path barely a few steps away. The lead bandit addressed us. “Hey there! Seems like your little party’s wandered a bit off the beaten path. Well, that’s too bad for you, cause you’ve had the misfortune of meeting the fastest draw in the west. See that man over yonder. His name’s Zal, and he’s the fastest dart thrower that has ever walked the Sword Coast. Now, if I were you, I wouldn’t want to test the patience of such a man. So why don’t you do the wise thing and hand over all your money. Otherwise you’re going to be in a heap of trouble.”

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One thing I had determined to do was end as much banditry as possible, but these two seemed so green I decided to give them a chance. “I have no desire to fight a pair of idiots, nor am I going to give you any of our money. Get lost.” “Hear that Zal!” yelled the first bandit in disbelief. “Seems they don’t take you seriously. Guess it’s time to show what for, huh? Sorry guys, but you’re in for a world of hurt.” I can only assume they had already intimidated a few travelers with this spiel, which explained their overconfidence. A dart, no matter how quickly thrown, is not a suitable weapon when a warrior is in your face raining sword blows. We buried the two nearby, where they had made their camp, on a lovely shaded hillside. The next day we were surprised by a beautiful woman running towards us. Her brief revealing garment seemed formed of twining, leafed vines. I thought I recognized her from tales I had heard from Jaheira. She must be a dryad; such creatures are always associated with a particular tree in a symbiotic relationship. Any harm coming to one member of the partnership affects the other. “Please, kind spirits,” she begged when she reached us, “a wondrous ancient oak is in peril. It is about to be attacked by two who would defile the majesty of nature. They have avoided my charms, and must be stopped before irreparable harm is done. Would you heed my plea?” “Only the basest villains would take advantage of a gentle forest spirit!” I could not bear the thought of harm coming to so kind a creature. “Lead on, and I will deal with them!” “I thank you, for although they seem dim of wit, they still could do much damage. This way.” We followed her a short distance. On cresting a small rise, the dryad pointed out two half-ogres standing near a magnificent oak. The dryad said, “There, they are just ahead. I implore you, do what you must to make them leave.” We hurried forward to intercept the two, although at the moment they were only staring at the tree. They finally noticed our approach, whereupon they took up staring at us. “Hey dere,” said one, “I’m Caldo and dis is my brother Krumm.” “Uhhhh…yeah,” said Krumm, a half-ogre of few words. “We think dis here’s a magic tree,” Caldo patiently explained, “cuz its all alone up here and so big. Probably got gnomes or pixies or sumthin’ in it, so we’re gonna bust it down and take any treasure! Ain’t that right Krumm? You wanna help? It’s a big tree, probably got enough gold fer alluh us!” “You don’t really want to do this do you?” I tried to reason with him. “Just think of how beautiful this tree is. It’s truly a wonder of nature.” “Well if yer not gonna help,” Caldo started slowly, then with greater force and speed as a conclusion rumbled its way through his brain, “I’m not gonna let you sit and watch

41 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast us do it! Yous were probably gonna rob us when we’re done, wern’t cha? Me an Krumm don’t cotton to bandits one bit! Do we Krumm?” “What?” replied Krumm, still half a dozen sentences back trying to figure out what was going on. However, when Caldo attacked us he managed to determine he should join in, which meant he shared Caldo’s fate. The dryad had been standing pensively by while we fought the two. After they were dead, she said, “Thanks be to you! Here is a potion that might help you on your journeys.” She disappeared, I assume into the oak. We left the bodies of the two half- ogres where they lay, to feed the oak and the creatures of the forest. I think Jaheira would have approved. Another unexpected result of this journey was that Imoen and Dynaheir became very close. Imoen would often have long talks with her at night by the fire, or while walking during the day. From the little I overheard they were often talking of the intricacies of magic; I wondered if perhaps Imoen had picked up more from Gorion on that subject than I had thought.

West of Beregost We returned to Nashkel only long enough to restock our supplies. There was still over a week before we needed to meet Jaheira, and I had decided to pass though the area west of Beregost, south of Candlekeep, and north of the gnoll stronghold from which we had rescued Dynaheir. We were a day into the wilderness when an attractive young woman in studded leather armor hailed us. More specifically, she hailed Minsc. “I’ve been looking for…a strong man like yourself. I have a problem that only you can help me solve.” Minsc had a bemused look on his face. I was amazed, and a little jealous, at the effect she had achieved by the tone of her voice and the undulations of her body as she walked forward to meet us. She continued, still mainly addressing Minsc. “Well, good sir, you may call me Safana. You’ll have to excuse me if I sound startled, but in the south were I come from they don’t grow their men as big as you. Anyhow, if you want, I have a way to make you all fabulously wealthy. In my possession, I have a map that gives the location of an old pirate treasure trove. According to the writings on the map, it’s where the legendary Black Alaric dumped his treasure before being captured by the Amnish fleets! You interested in hearing more?” “We’re always interested in hearing about money,” I answered, trying to draw her attention to me. There were always uses to which money could be put. “The reason I need a heroic man, is that that the caverns where I wish to go are guarded by some sort of creature; which kind I couldn’t tell you. If you help me, I’ll let you share in the treasure. I may be grateful in other ways, as well.” “We agree.” I didn’t sense any of the strong wrongness I had felt from, say, Edwin, and was happy enough to increase the size of my small band. “Oh, thank you, you won’t regret your decision. I know that powerful heroes like you will easily push through any obstacles in our path. Well, we should be off then. From

42 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast what my map showed, the pirate cove is located somewhere along the coast, just south of Candlekeep.” We were nearing the coast. Not only were the calls of seagulls sometimes audible, but I could see the top of a lighthouse off the way we were headed. We came upon a woman walking among the scattered trees. Her robes were embroidered with zodiacal symbols, and she carried a walking stick. When she noticed us, she immediately began speaking before I could say a thing. “I know why you’re here. It’s the same reason everyone else comes to see me, and you shall get the same answer. I do not know when the iron shortage will let up, I have no clue as to who controls the bandits in the area, and I have no interest in accompanying you to the gambling tables in Baldur’s Gate.” “Pardon me,” I replied, somewhat startled by her vehemence, “but if you do not trouble yourself with the events of the day, what purpose do your star-gazings serve?” “What purpose? The Sword Coast is by no means the center of the universe. Lives and dramas are lived out across the Realms. There are lands closer than you would think that neither know nor care about our little problems.” “And what of these lands? What intrigues lay beyond our borders?” “Well, just across the southern mountains there are troubles brewing in great Amn that will make our current concerns seem small by comparison. To the far north there is a city where winter never rears its ugly head; a city that has not been seen nor heard from for many a year, but will soon welcome the return of a multitude of citizens. Both of these events will unfold regardless of our current troubles. Great may be our concerns, but much more is on the horizon. Leave me be, I have much to think upon.” Surprisingly, we ran into another fortuneteller soon after. She acted more like what I would expect. After introducing herself, when we learned her name was Arkushule, she began a well-practiced line of patter, no doubt to cause us to part with some of our coins. “Who might you be then? Ah, great adventurers no doubt? I could tell by your hands. Stained with magic and the effort of hefting a weapon. Such markings may be invisible to the average eye, but I can see them plain as day. I can see a lot plain as day. Care for a consultation? Perhaps a little old-fashioned palm reading? A little gypsy magic to steer your course straight and true?” “I see no harm in a little divination on your part.” I was amused by her conversation, and wished to hear more, even if it was only vague generalities. “Here is my palm. What does it tell you?” “Let’s have a look now. Interesting. Though you live the hard life now, your hand tells of a softer existence not long ago. I assume that you have just recently taken to the road?” “That much is true, yes,” although my age would have told anyone that. “Do go on.” “I thought as much. Lets have a little closer look now. Back down your life line. I see a scholarly influence, and you are well educated. You had a mentor that was a great sage? Perhaps of considerable power as well?”

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This was more impressive; I didn’t see how she had deduced this. “My foster father Gorion was a sage, and a bit of a mage as well. Go on.” “You had a reasonably happy childhood with him, aside from being a little difficult. My my, but you were quite the little hellion. Wonder where that comes from? Let’s see what we can’t learn about you back before this Gorion. Further back I see…I see…Madre de merced! I-see-a-long-and-happy-life-for-you-and-yours. 10 gold please and I’ll be on my way.” “What? What is it that you saw?” I assumed she was just acting to get a little extra above her normal fee. “I saw nothing! You will live long and enjoy life and I will be going now! Back from me!” “You must tell me, please dear lady.” I realized she actually was frightened; naturally, this made me even more anxious to know what she thought she had seen. “I have told all I am going to. Stay back from me! Your life is none of my affair!” “Please, I don’t mean to be rude. Just tell me what your vision revealed.” “Stay away from me! I warn you, I’ll not let you near me!” She ran off. I stood there, frustrated. The lighthouse, when we reached it, proved to be abandoned, although it could not have been too many years since the wooden buildings about its base were still in good shape. A little north of here Safana became excited. She thought the coastline matched the map she had, and insisted we look for a cave along the tide line at once. We continued a ways along the shore, when suddenly three women appeared out among the waves crashing to shore. They quickly swam to land, standing before us. We had not seen them swimming further out, which made me wonder if they were actually denizens of the sea, who could breath under water. “This is not your place,” spoke the lead blue-skinned woman “This is the home of Sil’s tribe! Dirty land folk, you shall suffer for your trespass.” It seemed not unlikely that Safana’s greed had in fact led us to trespass upon what they claimed. I later learned we faced here sirines, a generally neutral sea-dwelling folk. There was no opportunity to negotiate with them, however, since Sil and her companions attacked. They fired vicious arrows that caused grievous damage when they hit, and managed to charm Dynaheir with their magic. They had no corresponding special protection for themselves, and proved all too vulnerable to our swords and arrows. After they were dead, Safana pointed out a cave entrance not too far ahead. Since we were already in this far, we might as well investigate. The cave actually did contain treasure, guarded by flesh golems, magical constructs. After we defeated them, Safana, having found her treasure, was understandably pleased, and addressed us all. “Well, we have worked well together, wouldn’t you agree? Perhaps we could continue this working relationship beyond just one treasure hunt, that is, if you’ll have me. If you haven’t guessed yet, my skills are of a thieving nature.”

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“Sure you can work with us any time,” I agreed. Although not entirely satisfied with the way things had turned out, for which I wasn’t sure how much Safana was to blame, she had proven herself in combat, in scouting, and in detecting the traps which had also been in the cave. “You’ve made the right decision,” she assured us, “but now we should talk about the leadership of this group, I think it needs overhauling.” No one took her up on her offer, although Minsc appeared to consider it. Safana had to be satisfied with my leadership. I made a special effort to talk to her as we rested. Asked about her past, Safana spun tale upon tale involving fantastic liaisons with pirate captains, nobles, and royalty of all shapes and sizes. The consistent details seemed to be that she grew up in the city of Calimport, surrounded by luxury. Her father was a very influential noble, and though she could have had anything, she apparently found herself too confined by her father’s protective arm. She ran away in her early teens with the help of the first mate of the pirate ship “Exzesus,” and remained with the crew for several years as they raided up and down the Sword Coast. Eventually she tried to manipulate the captain and found herself in a lot of trouble, escaping when the ship was at port in Baldur’s Gate. She had many stories of her escapades after that, but if there was a grain of truth in them, I certainly couldn’t find it. I used my charm ability to ask her why she was traveling with us. “For once I don’t have to feign my affection for others,” I noticed she looked towards Minsc as she said this, “I really do find you so very attractive. I can think of no others that I would wish to travel with.” When we left the cave, we were still battered, despite the ministrations of Branwen. It was dusk when we came across another solitary wanderer. Our day for such, it would seem. The man, dressed in black, nodded his head as he looked us over before speaking. “It would seem that you travelers are in need; it is lucky that I found you. It is not often that I meet travelers in these parts of the wilderness. If you desire, I have the skills necessary to heal you.” “Certainly, we do need your healing; but first, could you tell us who you are?” “You may call me the Surgeon. I heal others in penance for what I have done in my past. Many have died because of a foolish act of charity on my part. I have a brother, an evil man by the name of Davaeorn. He lives because I was too weak hearted to kill him when I had the chance. Many have died at his hands, including…our own father. I have heard that he has come to this region, and I hope to meet him one day, to rectify my previous mistake. Your group seem to be adventurers…perhaps you might come to fight my brother. This may be wishful thinking on my part…but take this, it would help you in any fight against magic users.” He handed us a scroll, then proceeded to heal us of all our hurts, before continuing on his way. That night, as we sat around the fire, Safana asked Minsc, “My feet are very sore, perhaps you could massage them.” “Your words are as sharp as my blade,” he replied, “though not half as shiny. Oooo, shiny.” He went over to her, massaging her feet for a while. Dynaheir looked on with a grim expression, but she said nothing, or at least waited to scold Minsc until others could not overhear.

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Next day at dusk we rounded a corner of a forest trail. Ahead, in a clearing, we could see what was left of a small merchant caravan that had been attacked. An armored woman standing at the edge of the clearing saw us, holding up her hand to stop us. “Please, I beg of you to go no further! Brage is there, strewn about with the carnage he has wrought. I have tried to reason with him but it is as if he is possessed by another’s soul. It was all I could do to flee the swing of his tremendous blade. Please, unless you wish to witness madness in a once-good man, leave him be and pray the spirit leaves him in good time.” She paused, choking back a sob, before continuing. “Before this curse befell him, he was Captain of the Guard in Nashkel. I am his cousin, Laryssa. For all the bonds of love and blood, save him from his present agony if there be a way to do so.” She cast a frightened glance over her shoulder. Having appeared around the side of a wrecked wagon, a man was walking towards us. He held a two handed sword. Despite the tremors visible in his arms, the point of the weapon was directed towards us. His armor was rent, and blood soaked. Laryssa backed away from him, but he ignored her, his eyes fixed on me. He started to speak, although his words made little sense to me. “Greetings playthings, thou hast found me when I alone could not. I pray you left a trail of crumbs to lead us all back again. The others did not, so they have decided to stay. Shall we try to find the way home together? I pose to you a riddle, the answer to which I once knew, but now cannot perceive. Remind me, and we shall all return unto the day. Fail, and stay with me in the dark, forgetting whence we came...” “It has neither mouth, nor teeth, Yet, it eats its food steadily. It has neither village, nor home, nor hands, nor feet; yet it wanders everywhere. It has neither country, nor means, nor office, nor pen; yet it is ready for fight—always. By day and by night there is wailing about it. It has no breath, yet to all it appears.” Minsc confidently spoke to me an answer, “the insect.” Branwen corrected him, predictably saying it must be “war.” Safana chose “wind,” while Imoen and Dynaheir at the same time insisted on “death.” I was considering something unusual, like the moon, but I knew who I trusted to answer a riddle. “Death.” I loudly spoke, although it struck me as a strange spell that could be broken by answering a riddle. “The end of night, where the light shines unto mine eyes and I can see clearly once again!” Brage dropped the sword, and started to cry. “What hath I wrought!? ‘Tis horrible, horrible!! I will welcome the block that must await me at Nashkel! How could I live with what I’ve done! Please, thy must guide me to the town that I might pay for my crimes! I fear I can keep my senses for only so long, and I must not be allowed to do this again! Too many good people have lost their lives to me! Please...” “We’ll see you back safe as we can, though I don’t see how killing you will help those that have died. We shall take you to the temple of Helm in hopes that you may be healed.” “I fear I can do nothing for those I’ve wronged whether I live or die, and I still know not what led me to this. It’s like a foul presence in my mind! I can only imagine that I

46 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast have finally succumbed to battle fatigue. Take my weapon, that I might not harm another! Use it if thy wish, though I’d rather it be destroyed. Innocent blood on everything! I’d only just acquired the sword. Such a waste this has been. Take me to Nashkel, I can bear this no longer.” We returned to Nashkel with Brage and Laryssa. When we stood outside the Temple of Helm, and Brage realized I had been serious in my words, he protested. “No, I cannot show my face here after what I’ve done! Just give me to the guard that I might take my punishment as I should! Do not disgrace me further in front of Helm!” I forced him inside. The priest, Nalin, seeing who was with me said, “Calm yourself Brage. Helm sees all that he wishes, and knows much of what you do not. It was your hands indeed that did many a foul deed, but it was not your will alone. Intent is vital, and yours was influenced without your knowledge. Justice will be done, but with atonement, not punishment.” “But my crimes…my family…I don’t want to go on!” cried Brage in anguish. “If you are returned to the garrison,” pointed out Nalin, “yours will be the only willful killing that has occurred about this matter. It would be a waste of your life which, fractured though it is, can still contribute much. Helm will see you through. As for our intrepid friends here, I shall exceed the reward offered by Oublek. After all, it was the same task of bringing Brage to justice. The Temple is in your debt for the return of it’s lost son.” I also left the cursed sword in the temple’s care before leaving. I returned to the area west of Beregost, since I did not feel I had adequately explored it. One morning we happened on an unusual sight. A man was directing half a dozen diggers who were clearing rubble from what appeared to be a cave entrance. I motioned the others forward, curious what was going on. “Put yer backs to those shovels, men!” encouraged the foreman. “If she’s not out tonight we’ll lose ‘er to the bandit scum!” “You there!” suddenly cried the foreman, having noticed us. “State your business, but don’t move from where you stand! I don’t want to have to sic the boys on you!” “Relax, we mean no harm to ye,” I assured him. “Have ye had much trouble?” “Have we?” he repeated rhetorically. “Aye, and plenty of it. Nary an eve goes by without us losing another hand to the night. I swear, if we could just get a few moments of uninterrupted digging done…say, you wouldn’t be willing to do a little service for me, would you? You could do a lot worse than working for ol’ Charleston Nib.” “I would like to know just what I would be protecting,” I answered cautiously. “What are you doing here? Looks to be glorified graverobbing in nothing but a decrepit tomb.” “You are partially right, though it’s not a tomb, but an ancient settlement.” He spoke with animation, enthusiastically describing what he was doing. “It is also all that remains of a primitive race long since extinct, and we know little about their culture save that they seem to have destroyed themselves in war. Perhaps today we will learn something more. We are just about to break through into an inner chamber, perhaps the dwelling of the

47 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast village shaman himself. Mayhaps you could be of assistance to us? We need but keep the camp secure a short while longer. Your very presence would probably dissuade anyone from attacking us, though I do not know the force behind our misfortune. They seem to take great pleasure in minor sabotage and kidnapping, though some of the missing men may have just run off from fear. Nothing is ever stolen, which is odd for bandits, but they must still be the cause. Will you help us?” “It would be an honor to help you learned people in your quest for knowledge.” Assuming he was telling the truth. “Grateful we are! Now we stand a chance of completing the most exciting day of our dig! We’re going to try for an entire new room today, possibly the shaman or chieftain quarters! We could find any number of relics within. Move amongst the men as you will, as your presence will no doubt reassure them.” The foreman, Charleston Nib, returned to work. We stood guard, although most of our attention was on what the diggers were doing. After a while another man entered the site, but Charleston Nib motioned us it was alright, so obviously he was known. The man approached me. “Why, hello there. Could we just…step aside a moment and have a little chat away from prying ears?” “First, my name is Gallor,” said the man after we had moved off a little ways. “Second, we never had this conversation. I’m the ‘partner’ of that old mister Charleston you met, except I’m none too thrilled about the non-profit aspects of the whole thing. The old man seems to think we should donate all our findings to some museum, whereas I am ever so much more practical. I should think certain people would pay dearly for the magical treasure we are about to unearth, and if they would be so eager, who are we to stand in their way? I would like you to steal the item and ‘remove’ Mr. Nib from my little equation. You up to the task?” I had no intention of falling in with this plan, but I decided to get a little more information by seeming to play along. “Magical treasure? I was under the impression that no one knows what is to be found there. Why are you so sure of its value?” “Old mister Nib would never admit it, but that is mainly because he doesn’t wish to jinx the dig. From what I could decipher in the ancient writings, the final room contains ‘the plate that provides bounty, leading food unto god.’ Doesn’t take a genius to figure out what that means. Obviously the item under all that dirt and rubble is enchanted such that it ‘provides bounty.’ Whether it’s through increased crops or good hunting, I care not. Regardless, an object of that age and enchantment should command a hefty price and I intend to see that it does. You can be a part of it if you wish.” “It is a very sketchy description that you offer. I should think that different deities would require different ‘bounty’ to be delivered. Do you know if this ancient one preferred ‘bounty’ that we would find valuable?” “I care not whether the primitives who lived here worshiped chickens and the plate produces fodder! It does not matter! What does matter, is that we potentially have an item associated with a god long since lost to the mists of time. Its former enchantments may

48 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast not even work, but it will still command an exorbitant price from a historian or collector. Do you wish a piece of the pie or don’t ya?” “I would have to kill many of the working men if I attacked Charleston. It would be a veritable slaughter, and I want no part of it.” “Blast you! You are playing just as safe as the old man! So be it; I will find other means to acquire a fair measure of profit from this fiasco! Best you continue on whatever errand you be on.” I used my charm ability on Gallor, and asked him again why he was he here. He answered, “I don’t have much to tell you that would be a surprise. I got roped into helping fund this ridiculous old man, and now he won’t use what he finds for profit. I’d rather have the whole dig to myself.” He had been truthful to me, surprisingly so for someone planning theft and murder. Fortunately for him, his crimes were theoretical rather than actual; I told him to leave and not return. I moved to talk to the foreman. I wanted to be sure what he was doing, and used my charm ability on him. His eyes glazed over, and he willingly answered my question, saying, “I’ve little to say, and less time to say it. All I’m looking for is some clue to the origins of the people that once lived here. We must know our history, lest we are doomed to repeat it. I must go now.” The slackness left his face as he came back to himself. One of his workers came up, telling him they had broken through. I followed Charleston back to the cave entrance. The rubble had been cleared, which led him to crow excitedly. “Success! We are about to enter the last remaining room! It’s sure to be the shaman’s abode! Now we’ll get some real information about what these peoples were truly like!” There were several connected rooms inside, formed by crude shaping of an existing cave. Charleston quickly examined the room just inside the opening in the light of a lantern. He passed through to another connecting room, then stopped at the entry to a third room, obviously pleased. He entered, followed by the curious diggers, the rest of the party and me. He examined a stone sarcophagus in the center of the room while the rest of us watched. “Hey bossman,” suddenly spoke one of the diggers, “I don’t feel so good. How old is the air in this place?” “A good question young man,” he absently replied, still examining the sarcophagus. “I would guess that we are the first people to walk this room in nearly 5000 years. The very gods of Netheril would have been young at that time.” “Is so…is so cold in here…I feel…strange,” said the digger. “I hear…I hear a voice…in my head,” stated another. “I hear the hollow voice, but it is but a mumble!” The digger’s voice was rising. “Speak up! Speak up and guide mine hands! Raaaaaaagh!!” “You…I see what you are!” cried the digger. “There is power to be had from your death! Your blood will quiet the voice! Blood will quiet!”

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The half dozen workers crowded in with us suddenly attacked, swinging the picks and shovels they carried. As they attacked, they yelled strange phrases. “KOZAH A PLET ‘DAR CASS TOGLAH!!” “KOZAH!! Q’AL TE-PAH KOZAH! SHE CAL KOZAH!” They came at us with an insane fury. Their vitality was superhuman; it was literally necessary to dismember them before they stopped attacking. Charleston Nib had not been affected; perhaps the diggers, who had been working so long directly in the cave’s mouth, had been the only ones sufficiently exposed to be controlled. “I…I think I can explain the madness that overcame my men,” he shakily explained afterward. “They seemed to scream in some ancient tongues, but I recognize the word ‘Kozah.’ It’s the name of an ancient power; the name of a god of pandemonium. The tribe that lived here must have worshiped Kozah and the destruction he brought. The artifact that lies within this stone sarcophagus must be what has caused all of this bloodshed. Surely that artifact is cursed beyond belief! Please make sure it is within its proper place and we will seal the entrance. It’s best that it never sees the light of day.” I looked at the artifact he was referring to inside the sarcophagus. It was a crudely carved man-like figure. Charleston explained, “It depicts Kozah the Stormstar, a long- extinct god who was venerated and feared among the less-powerful strata of ancient Netherese society. Worship of this god of storms, earthquakes, strife, and rebellion was outlawed by many of the civilization’s powerful archwizards. Many Kozahyn shrines and temples were therefore built in secretive, underground locations where the devout were better able to escape detection.” It seemed to me that the idol was the focus of the madness that had afflicted the workers. I decided it would be wise to remove it, perhaps taking it to a good church to see if it could be destroyed. Despite Charleston’s protests, I carried it from the tomb. As we exited the cave, I could see a shadowy, insubstantial figure gliding towards us. As it got closer, a voice issued from it. “IthNal cOR dan osa KOZAH! Rrrackne dall’a osa KOZAH!” “What are you trying to say?” Obviously, the creature was related to what I carried. “Speak, and I shall see if I can help you.” “Hhhellp? Nooo hhhelp for theeE…only sleeeep…eternity sleeeeep of one forgotttt…deathh of godsss…idol take theeee wwwwhile you hold…I reclaimmm! Oro lan t’ola osa KOZAH!” The thing attacked. Its form twisted as it moved among us, making it almost impossible to hit with a weapon. Branwen, thinking quickly, cast dispel magic, which removed the glamor that hid its movements. It was now possible to destroy it with our weapons. As it finally vanished, the creature let out a final wailing sentence. “Sssstormss shall bring doom to theeee…Idollll so commandsssss…Echtah tuln no osa KOZAH!” I re-entered the cave, and placed the idol back into the sarcophagus. It was all very well to try to do good in the Realms, but unnecessarily picking fights with forces beyond

50 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast my understanding just was not a wise thing to do. Charleston directed the few workers who hadn’t gone into the cave in reblocking the entrance. “It’s sad really,” he commented to me. “I had sought to bring a little life back to a long extinct people, and look what I wrought. Certainly some things are better off remaining dead. Here is your pay for the time you have spent here. Your services are no longer required.” He yelled to the remaining workers, “Everyone pack up! We are leaving this accursed place!” It was time to begin to make our way back to Beregost. We had not gone far when three bandits attempted to block our way. “Stop where you are!” yelled one. “If you throw down your weapons and co-operate, then no one will be hurt. If you don’t, then you’ll all die. A very simple decision on your part.” “What is it you want with us, and who are you?” I was already tired from the events of the day, and had been looking forward to setting up camp, but it looked like this was not going to be settled peacefully. “My name is Teyngan, this is my girl Jemby. The ugly one is Zekar. What we want is your money. Hand over all your cash, and you’ll be unharmed. Before you do anything rash, think it over awhile. I’m sure your life is worth more than the little gold you might possess.” “Greedy bandits,” I replied angrily. Much as I tried to suppress it, I sometimes felt anger at the smallest obstacle; it was especially apt to manifest itself when I was tired. “You infest our roads with your stink. Draw steel!” “Stupid, stupid!! Now you die!” Although no doubt experienced for bandits, the three were no match for my companions and me. After finishing with them, we continued on a short while before resting for the night. The next day we were passing through mainly open country, broken by the occasional clump of bushes. Ahead of us, a single individual ran over the crest of a small hill, followed by a large group of gnolls. The individual, apparently seeing the futility of flight, turned to face the gnolls. The individual yelled at his pursuers. “All I wish is to continue my journey! Friends await, while I must suffer this tiresome dance?! Does the mere mention of Drizzt attract your ilk?!” He took a stance, drawing two scimitars, then quickly looked around, at that point noticing us. He called out to us. “You there! Will you help a stranger in need? I am beset by gnolls!” “Fear not, we will not stand aside while another is in peril.” I could not clearly make him out, for his skin was dark, which made me wonder if he came from one of the southern lands I had heard of, such as Calimshan. In any event, I would not leave anyone to face gnolls.

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“The fight is joined, and I welcome your aid.” His voice was joyful, as if he actually looked forward to the combat. “Tiresome beasts these gnolls are, and I’ll be glad to be done with them!” I ran forward, but the gnolls reached the stranger before I did. I managed to get in a few blows, but mostly I watched slack-jawed at a performance of sword fighting which I had never guessed could be possible. His scimitars moved with blinding speed, certainly faster than the gnolls could follow, for he easily evaded their attempted parries, slashing a throat or nearly severing a limb with every stroke. At the same time, he almost danced among them, lithely avoiding their strikes. All the while, he maintained enough breath to keep up a steady commentary. “‘Tis your lives to waste!” he would say, or “I’ve sparred with demons from the nine hells themselves! I shall barely break a sweat here today!” In short order more than a dozen gnolls lay dead, a few others fleeing for their lives. The man cleaned his scimitars and put them away, then turned to me. “Well met, stranger, I am Drizzt Do’Urden, and I appreciate your assistance. It is a long enough trip to the Icewind Dale, even without these constant interruptions. I do not recall banditry being of such epidemic proportions in this area; how long has this been so?” I was surprised by his appearance. His skin was so black, but for the sheen lent by natural oils, it might have reflected no light at all. His hair, in contrast, was the purest white. If I ignored his coloration, the cast of his features suggested an elf, but I could recall no sight or tale of an elf like this. However, I sensed no wrongness from him, and returned his politeness with my own. “It was not always thus, and I strive to return peace to these lands.” “Noble goals indeed, and ones I would hold dear myself. Your struggle will be difficult, for the bandits that I have encountered -being beset at every turn as I am- are no mere vagabonds with blades. The humans bear the style of the Black Talon, and the hobgoblins that of the Chill. Mercenary groups both of them, and as such it is unlikely they are the architects of this endeavor. You would do well to insinuate into their ranks, and determine their true masters. Difficult, but not impossible, and potentially the most fruitful course.” “This is sage advice which I will heed. Know that I think well of you on your journey.” “Well met, friend. Luck be on your side.” He muttered to himself, “All this chatter is fine, but I’ve places I’d rather be,” I think not intending that I hear it, then with a salute and a smile, he set out north with a long stride that was close cousin to a run. Later, I found out more about him. He was named Drizzt Do’Urden, a drow, a dark elf. Naturally, I had heard of the evil drow, but I did not really know what they looked like, and had never expected to encounter one on the surface. The tales about him varied, but it seemed to me he must be a renegade, having denied his evil roots to follow good. Actually, I became quite fascinated by him and his companions, and sought out tales of them whenever I could. I later found that his story had more parallels with my own than I had thought.

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The next day we had another unusual encounter. A chicken came running out of some bushes by our path. It almost seemed to me that it was trying to form words with its clucking, and my mind tried to interpret the sounds it made in that fashion. “CLUUUUUUCK!!! Bwaaaaaa!! Buc-becaw! HELLLLP-becaw!” Swift behind the chicken came a wolf. I drew my sword and quickly slew it. To my surprise, the chicken was still at my feet, not having run off. I was even more surprised when it clucked again, and I realized it really was talking. “Th…Thank ye *cluck*. You have saved *cluck* me.” “I fear I have taken one too many blows to the head.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. “Next I’ll be hearing hamsters speak.” “Thank you. Yes *cluck*, that was just what I needed in my *cluck* hour of need. You laugh it up while I *cluck* learn to cope with passing eggs.” “My apologies good…um…chicken. What has caused your current accursed state?” “Thank the *cluck* Mother of all Magic, mayhaps now I might end this *cluck* nightmare. I am Melicamp of Beregost, a *cluck* mage adept in the mystical arts. A… misread…incantation seems to be *cluck* the source of my troubling form. ‘Tis been over a month since I *cluck* uttered a polymorph spell, and I simply cannot return to my normal *cluck* form!” “Is there anyone that might be able to assist you? I fear I have little in the way of magical power myself.” “Blast it all! Well, there is nothing else I *cluck* can do except my most hated option. There is a tower directly to the west of *cluck* Beregost, about which can be found the mage Thalantyr. I am his…apprentice, and I am…certain he will *cluck* aid me.” “For being his apprentice you seem unsure of his willingness to help you.” “Oh, ‘tis nothing *cluck*…really! Um, often the relationship between *cluck* apprentice and master is…strained. He will help. I am…certain.” “Then to his abode we shall go. I will escort you.” “It’s located just to the west of Beregost. Thalantyr lives in a large manor there. I’ll just nestle in your pack until we get there.” Not long afterward we ran into another official messenger. This one was carrying a protest from Amn denouncing the accusations from the north against that country, and demanding restitution from the Grand Dukes of Baldur’s Gate. I wondered what Jaheira would have to say about the companions I had gathered about me. Besides Imoen, of course, Dynaheir and Minsc I felt I could rely upon in any situation. Imoen was also already a close friend of Dynaheir. Branwen, though impetuous, was also reliable. I wasn’t as sure about Safana, but she had proven a competent thief. Then there was a talking chicken, who claimed to be a human mage, nestled in my pack.

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Beregost As I entered Beregost an old man, the same man who had stopped me on the road south of the Friendly Arm, hailed me. “Well now, our paths cross once more. I suppose proper introductions are in order, as we will no doubt meet again. My name is Elminster. I’ve heard nothing but tales of thy exploits in the time we have been apart. It would seem that thou art destined to have quite the impact on the Sword Coast. Quite the burden for one so young.” “Just doing what I thought best,” I uncertainly replied. I had heard the name Elminster before, but in relation to an extremely powerful mage. Surely this couldn’t be the same person. “That certainly seems to be the case. Thine actions are a testament to charity and free will, whether intentional or not. But enough of my ramblings. Thou’ve a long journey ahead of thee, and I will not have my meanderings delay thee. I will impart one piece of information before I go, though ‘tis hardly a surprise, I am sure. The bandits that thou dost seek make a habit of traveling in the northeast. With this, I shall take my leave.” I found Jaheira and Khalid at Feldepost’s Inn. Jaheira frowned a little as I introduced my companions. As I left the inn, a little girl ran up to me. “Rolanna! Rolanna! Someone in the Jovial Juggler gave me a gold piece to come find you!” “Slow down, breathless child! Who is tossing money about in hopes of finding me?” “Her name’s Officer Vai and she’s with the Flaming Fist. And you needn’t worry, she’s real nice!” “By the way, how did you know my name?” “Why, everyone here is talking about you. You’re the ones who saved the Nashkel mines! My momma says that even though we don’t like those folks from Amn, there’s no reason anyone should have to suffer so...” “Thank you, child. You have earned your gold piece. I will go to the Jovial Juggler and meet with your benefactor as soon as I am able.” “Good! You folks are real nice. Momma says the Sword Coast needs some real heroes, these days… Tymora be with you, okay?” I decided to stop by the inn, wondering at the speed at which tales spread (although I later did find out Volo was here, having traveled from Nashkel). The female Flaming Fist officer knew my name as well when I sought her out. “Ah Rolanna, I thought it might be you. These southern parts are set quite afire with talk of your work in Nashkel... I am Officer Vai of the Flaming Fist and, to be honest, I could use your help.” I agreed to give her what assistance I could, at which she was thankful. “My contingent and I are cut off from Baldur’s Gate. We haven’t received new orders for close to a week and, to be honest, I don’t like the feel of this at all. The bandit

54 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast raids have been getting worse since you returned from Nashkel. I used to think that they were just your usual brigands out to make a quick buck in troubled times but not anymore. They’re working for someone… One way or another, I’ve got to get my troops back to the Gate. I’ll pay 50 gold pieces for every bandit scalp you can bring me—and spread the news. I want this whole region cleared before winter comes.” Now to do what I could for the talking chicken, Melicamp. I learned the mage he had mentioned, Thalantyr, lived at High Hedge a little west of Beregost. Soon after leaving the town we entered a wood, a dirt track the only indication of settlement. A voice suddenly called out to us. “Hail! It is not often that I come across strangers in this part of the world.” The source of the voice was a male elf, who held a bow with a nocked arrow, although it wasn’t aimed directly towards us. “What takes you out this far from civilization?” “We’re adventurers, ready to smite any evil that darkens our path,” I replied. “A strange coincidence; I have a quest similar to your own. I have been hunting the bandits in the region for the past few months. Perhaps if we worked together we would fare better. What say you to that?” “We’ll help you against the bandits, but only if you tell us why you’ve spent months hunting them.” “Their leader, an ogre named Tazok, took the life of someone very dear to me.” “Thanks for being honest. You can join our party.” “I hope that we will work well together.” He introduced himself as Kivan. I was glad for another helper, and found his information interesting. Tazok was an ogre. The man who had killed Gorion had been tall, but no ogre or half-ogre. That meant I still did not know the name of his killer, but I felt following Tazok’s trail would eventually cross his. I talked to Kivan as he led us to the home of Thalantyr, which he knew although he had never entered. Kivan hailed from the forest of Shilmista, though he had not visited his homeland for quite some time. He had instead been traveling the world driven by the darkest of obsessions: revenge. Kivan and his mate Deheriana were apparently on a romantic sojourn years ago when they were waylaid by a group of Brigands. They were captured and tortured for the amusement of Tazok, the half-ogre that led the attack. Kivan eventually escaped, but Deheriana did not survive the encounter. I found Kivan to be a man of few words, and he obviously did not make friends easily. I wondered if he would be able to take any pleasure from life again once he had revenged the death of his love. No one answered my knock when we reached the mage’s abode. We cautiously entered, nervously walking by flesh golem guards. The great mage himself was not happy to receive visitors. “I be Thalantyr, mighty mage of Beregost. I don’t have much patience for strangers on my property. Do us both a favor and move along…unless of course you have magic for sale. From the looks of you, you don’t look as if you could afford the items I have for sale.”

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With that he turned away. I cleared my throat. He turned back to me with a scowl. “I sincerely hope you have some reason for bothering me. I’ve already stated that I wish you to leave.” I am nervous about magic. Although unintentionally having developed a few magical abilities of my own, I am uneasy in the presence of professional practitioners. With other warriors, I feel I can judge their skill, and have ample warning to react if they wish me ill. With mages, I have no idea how powerful they are, or what damage they could cause with a gesture. I suddenly felt silly asking a powerful mage about my purpose here. “Well…it’s rather amusing actually. You see, I happened to rescue this…um… talking chicken...” “Chickens do not talk,” he stated impatiently, “so quite obviously it is a polymorphed being of some kind. Spells such as that wear off in time or can be dispelled. ‘Tis a simple matter and one not worth the waste of my day. Keep moving.” “I am quite aware of the mute status of chickens, thank you very much!” His brush off helped steady me, since I had a valid reason for being here, one that I needed to fulfill. “Yes this is a transformed man, but it is also a man who claims to be your apprentice. That is why I brought him here.” “Apprentice?! I have had no apprentices!” He yelled. “I teach no one about what I… wait…Melicamp? Melicamp, is that you?!!” “Yes Master Thalantyr, it is *cluck* I,” said the chicken I held. “I am no ‘master’ to you, and you are no ‘apprentice’! What gall you have to expect help from me!” “He is not your student?” I was surprised at his words. “But you do know of him, do you not?” “A student wishes to learn, while this fool wishes only to have knowledge. I will tutor no one who does not understand the ramifications of what I have to teach! Not getting the quick gratification he wished, he instead chose to steal from me!” “You speak of so much, but show so little! I only wished to *cluck* learn a fraction of the power you possess!” “It has taken me some 50-odd years of life to gain the power I wield, and the will not to use it. You are but a baby in comparison. Frankly, I’m surprised you changed into such an old chicken! How did you manage that, by the by? You were muddling the simplest cantrip when last I observed you.” “I have progressed much since then…and I *cluck* ‘borrowed’ a few items to speed the process.” “As I thought. Well, it’s obvious you can steal my tools, but not my understanding of them. Hold still while I dispel this foolish facade. Can’t very well get my property back while it’s polymorphed into y…wait a moment. I did not possess any items that allow the casting of that enchantment. Wait…oh dear…Melicamp, listen very carefully. What did you take?”

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“Nothing too valuable, I swear! Just some *cluck* components, a few scrolls, a beat- up pair of bracers, a blank spellbook, some parchment...” “A pair of…oh no. You little fool! The bracers in my locked and trapped safe?! I certainly hope you can develop a taste for chicken feed, because you are going to be stuck the way you are for a very long time!” “I know I stole from you, but you can’t leave me like this! Please Master Thalantyr, please…*cluck*” “It’s not a matter of whether I wish to help or not, simply that I do not have the power to undo what you have done.” “What sort of item could cause such a problem for even such a mage as yourself?” I asked. “The magic that so many revere today was not always the same as it is now. Any adventurer worth his salt should know this, and know that not every bauble they wring from a dungeon will be helpful. The bracers in question were a vain little reminder of… well…it doesn’t really matter does it? Suffice to say that I have no idea what their intended function was, and I was in no position to ask their former owner. Years have passed since my…release, and the spoils of that Netheril ruin remain as enigmatic as ever. They resist even the strongest divination, and attempts to dispel result only in explosive consequences. Some things should just stay buried.” “Is there nothing that can be done?” I asked. “I am willing to help however I can.” “If you are willing, then I will do what must be done. We will need a component that I do not have on hand, and it will be your job to get it. I will require the head of an undead creature, and a simple skeleton skull will do. Bring it back here and I will try to bend a few magical rules to reincarnate this foolish boy.” “Reincarnate?” protested Melicamp. “But does that spell not require *cluck* the recipient to be dead?” “There must be a dead element, yes. That is what the skull is for. I cannot fully explain what I am to try, but it’s something of a reversal on the reincarnation scheme. The age of the enchantment that changed you may allow for a loophole in the laws of magic. Of course it may just kill us both in the casting. Such is life. Off you go to some dungeon or another. Return with the skull. Go.” Fortunately, we had destroyed several skeletons almost outside Thalantyr’s door. We quickly obtained a skull from where they lay. “Hello again, my young adventurers,” Thalantyr greeted us, somewhat friendlier, on our return. “I see you have the needed component. Well, shall we see if our young man regains his life, or if he’ll eventually be someone’s festhall dinner?” Thalantyr cast a spell. Dynaheir confidently informed me she recognized it, the antichickenator. I wondered if she was joking, but quickly turned my concentration back to what was happening in front of me. The former chicken was again a man. He happily waved his extremities about, calling out in joy.

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“I have arms!! Arms and hands and feet and...and… Oh thank you master Thalantyr, thank you!” “Yes yes boy, now be quiet a moment. Blast it. The Bracers are no longer on him. It is as I feared. Likely they either spent what magic they had in a single charge, or it is their wont to be whisked away after inflicting the damage they do. I had hoped to seal them away, but now it’s certain they will fall into the hands of some other unfortunate fool. Tell me Melicamp, do you quite feel yourself again?” “I…I think so,” he said cautiously, not even clucking once. “Good, though it was the greatest of luck you did not retain a wing for a limb. You always were a bit cockeyed, but I suppose that doesn’t count. I suggest you remain here, however, so that I might keep an eye on you. If you insist on playing with the forces of magic, at least I should see that you understand them. Perhaps you will be a touch more cautious, now that you have experienced what can go wrong.” “Yes Master Thalantyr.” “I suppose your master I must be,” sighed Thalantyr. “And you Rolanna. I trust you will be cautious in your travels as well? I wish you ‘intelligence’ on your journeys. I would wish you ‘luck,’ but it runs out much quicker than you would think. Good day.” We returned to Jaheira at Feldepost’s Inn. She said Tranzig, the representative of the group to which Tazok and formerly Mulahey belonged, was staying at the same inn. She had been watching him for nearly a week, as he received contacts. She had waited for me before doing anything further. She allowed me to lead the by now rather large group up the stairs to his room. We opened his door by the simple expedient of Minsc and me hurling ourselves through it. “Why do ya bother me?” blustered Tranzig at our sudden entry. “Can’t ya see that I’m in a hurry to get outta this damn town?” “Perhaps you could tell us why you are in such a hurry?” I thought that perhaps it might be possible to get the information we needed without violence, considering the large number of people who had just entered his room. “I’m not gonna tell youse guys anything. Git outta my face.” “You won’t be rid of us that easily. We know you’re up to no good. Now tell us everything you know.” “Ya know what I’m up to, eh? Well, maybe somethin’ ya don’t know about is my magic skills. Ya might not believe me, but if you ain’t outta my face in the next 5 seconds, I’ll blast ya to kingdom come!” “We’re not afraid of any mage. If you want a fight, then bring it on.” “I warned ya, now you pay the price!” Overconfidence in his own abilities, or fear of how his employers would reward failure, led him to a hopeless attack. He was dead within seconds. Searching his room did reveal an interesting letter. Tranzig,

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I am perplexed as to why Mulahey has not communicated with us in some while. You are to go to the mines and find out the condition of his operation. You are also to collect any iron that may have been stolen by the kobolds. Our next raid will most likely take place at Peldvale, or Larswood, so visit either of those areas and track us back to our camp. Tazok

Bandit Camp Jaheira had a plan to find the Bandit’s camp. From the information she had gathered, besides what our group had done, the Flaming Fist had also had some success in destroying small gangs of bandits. They must be looking to recruit new members. We would simply find some bandits, and offer to join. I think Jaheira did not entirely trust my new companions, not having adventured with them personally, so she split us into two groups. She and Khalid, along with me, Imoen, Kivan and Safana would attempt to infiltrate the bandit camp. Minsc, Dynaheir and Branwen would travel north from Beregost along the Coast Way, defeating any bandits they encountered, I think mainly as a way to keep them occupied. As it turned out, Jaheira’s plan worked without complication. We entered the Larswood northeast of Beregost. A group of bandits surrounded us, their leader calling out. “Drop ye weapons and mahaps ye outlive the day! I’ll no be sayin’ it twice!” “We’ll not fight you.” It had been agreed I would do the talking. “In fact, we want to join your group.” “Ha! We’ve plenty o’ mules now! What for we be needin’ you?” “This is a bloodthirsty job you have, and we like the killin’!” I answered as best I thought a real killer might. “Let us join and the roads will run red ‘neath our feet!” “Aha, the fury of youth! Just wind ya up and point ya in the right direction eh? Well we’ll see if the boss wants any more berserkers. Let’s move.” As we traveled through the Larswood I attempted to talk to the leader. I learned his name was Teven, but when I continued my questioning he harshly told me, “I be of the Black Talons! I’ll not suffer your scrutiny!” After a few hours we entered the actual camp. Upon seeing us enter, a man called out in surprise. “Teven! Who the hell are these roustabouts?! Are ye daft bringing them here?” “I eyed ‘em well ‘fore bringin’ ‘em this far, and they be as good as we got.” Teven, although he had allowed us to accompany him, had been suspicious of us. This sudden questioning by one of his fellows, however, had firmed his resolve. We had been lucky to meet someone who didn’t like his decisions questioned. “We ain’t got the time to do formal training to cover our loses. We’ll be no use if we don’t fill in the ranks.”

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“Fine, just keep ‘em out o’ trouble ‘til Tazok gets here,” said the man, “and he can make sure they’re on the up an’ up. An ogre up yer face will show yer true colors right quick!” A short time later Tazok returned to camp. I knew it must have been hard on Kivan, but I had forced him to give me his word before we left that he would do nothing on his own, and wait for me to make the first move. “Recruits!?” roared Tazok to Teven when he was informed what had happened. “Secret operation and you hire those you rob!? By the lower planes, why do we pay Black Talon to do stealth if you almost light signal fires!?” “We need to keep our numbers up!” argued Teven. “Besides, we checked them out pretty good. I think they’ll do fine.” “You don’t think! I think!” If anything, Tazok’s voice had gotten even louder. “I question them myself and if they are not as you say, you die too!” “I say now I don’t like you!” said Tazok directly to us. “Give me reason to not have you broth-boiled and use your skin to swaddle my small-kin! Who are you that I should let you join?!” “We’re strong, well armed, and we know opportunity when we see it!” I had been well coached ahead of time by Jaheira on what to say. “What better job be there for us? Dungeon crawling? That’s fools’ work!” “Hmm. You have some sense, but I have many a strong back here already. What for I need you?!” “Would you rather have too few and need more, or have too many and not need them at all?” “Eh’? You sure are big on words. You better be big on the battlefield too, cuz if you’re not…you die. You have run of the camp. If I hear one bad thing from Ardenor and Taugosz, I personally feed your livers to the crows!” “I take a patrol and leave for mine tonight!” announced Tazok to the others. “Keep pressure on trade routes and there be extra gold for all when we are done! I leave soon.” Tazok actually left before night had come. It was unfortunate the biggest fish had escaped the net, but he also took part of the strength of the camp with him. I thought with surprise and a little luck we might be able to defeat all of those left behind. Meanwhile, I decided to explore the camp. I entered one tent, actually more of a permanent building, since it had a wooden floor, and a spot a stove could be positioned during cold weather. Inside was a hobgoblin. “Uh, hullo. I’m Tersus. Are you da… Are you da new recruits?” Hobgoblins are not known for their brains. “Uh, yeah, that’s us.” I decided to act dumb. I know some of my comrades would have had a few jokes at that statement, but I hoped to learn some useful information. “Good. I’m s’posed to give each of you some leather armor.”

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“Uh, sure, pile it on…Say, can you tell me a little about this place? Like who pays the wages around here?” “Some say da Zhents, some say it might be da Iron Throne. I don’t ask questions, eh. Da boss gives me money an’ I hand out leather armor, it’s dat simple. Chill, Black Talon, I don’t care who you are, I give you leather armor.” “Black Talon? Chill? Who are they?” “You’re not wit’ Black Talon or Chill? You must be independents, then. Black Talon, Chill, all da same, right? But independents, nobuddy sed nothin’ ‘bout independents. Better give me all that leather armor back. Black Talon an’ Chill, we be two groups of bandits. Me Chill. Black Talon don’t take no hobgoblins.” “Why would two groups of bandits be working together like this?” “Because da boss sez, okay? Like don’t blame me, already. Geeez, you independents are a lot a trubble.” We left him, and the tent. I asked a passing hobgoblin where their leader was. The leader, Ardenor Crush, was nearby, sitting by himself outside a tent. I went up and introduced myself. He looked me over disapprovingly. “They certainly will accept anyone these days. Keep to your side of the camp if you wish to keep your heads. My hobgoblins might like the meat on you.” “Yes sir, I’ll keep my distance.” I was surprised by his evident intelligence. This hobgoblin would not be easy to fool. In my surprise, I had forgotten my assumed identity as a bloodthirsty bandit, answering as if I was talking to a high priest of Helm. “Spineless, like the rest of them.” I wondered if my meek reply had been the best strategy after all, making him discount me. “What has kept humankind at the top of the food-chain?” I used my charm ability on him, and asked what he was doing here. He obediently answered. “I am Ardenor Crush, leader of the Chill. While most of my men think that we serve the Zhentarim, we are in fact paid by the Iron Throne. My bandits are to disrupt all iron flowing through this region.” I next sought out the leader of the Black Talons. He quickly got to the point. “You there, I would speak and best you listen well. I am Taugosz ‘Tenhammer,’ leader of the Black Talon. You are small and weak compared. Remember this. You cross Talons and I kill you. Not with hammer, with little finger. Slowly.” “You’ve my respect, but I’ll not fear you.” This time I remembered my persona. “It’s better placed with our quarry.” “Good attitude,” he laughed. “Be sure to keep it when Tazok arrive. He hires Black Talons for Iron Throne, but you take orders only from me. Understand? Stay away from Chill as well, they only our friends ‘till the job is finished.” Since none of his men were nearby, I charmed him as well, asking the same question as of Ardenor Crush.

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“I am Taugosz Khosann, and I have killed 10 men with a single stroke of my hammer. Though many of my men think we work for Zhentarim, that is just told to them in case they are captured. In reality we are paid through Tazok by the Iron Throne. They want us to disrupt all iron shipments coming into the region.” Besides the buildings in the camp, there was a nearby cave. The cave was a little isolated, but many tracks suggested it was often used. I decided to enter and investigate. Inside were a dozen gnolls. “You come to mock Garclax!” their leader angrily snarled. “Garclax’s clan been in cave long enough; let us out now, or die!” “Why are you in here anyway?” “We in here, because of trouble we cause in camp! Big brawl two nights back. You should know that…unless you not Black Talon. You not smell right. You die!” The gnolls attacked, forcing us to dispose of them. The cave was far enough from the camp that no one noticed the sound of combat from within, but someone was sure to enter the cave soon. It was time to enter the largest tent in the camp, built on a raised wooden platform. As we approached it, a bandit standing guard outside challenged us. “Hey you, new blood! Just you keep in line, ‘cuz I’ll be watching you!” “And who might you be?” I asked. “Me? I’m Credus. I’m your superio…superbior… I’m your boss. I was the newest recruit until you showed up. Now you’ll get all the crappy guard duty and I’ll be moving up. “ “I hope I do as good a job as you did.” I could hardly do worse. “What would I be guarding?” “Good Attitude! Important work it is! Gotta keep an eye on Tazok’s tent and make sure no one gets too close. They do super secret planning in there, all about where the iron and stuff goes. Smack anybody who goes near! Hey, maybe we’ll give you a little test. You can guard the place for tonight. Tazok will be pleased that we took initinivvi… initititive…ini…that we didn’t wait. It’ll give me a break for tonight too. You just make sure nothing goes missing, or your head goes next.” Impatient, we didn’t wait for night, instead entering as soon as Credus had wandered off. Inside the tent were a human bandit, a human mage, a gnoll, and a hobgoblin. A bound man, a prisoner, was also present. The bandit challenged us. “I don’t care who you are, no one’s to enter Tazok’s tent, under penalty of death.” “We’re here under Tazok’s own instructions.” I’m not too good at improvisation and paused several seconds before an excuse came to mind. “He requested that we retrieve his files and documents and deliver them to him as soon as possible.” “Your petty lies are wasted on me, Rolanna. Like Ender Sai, here, you’ve crossed the Iron Throne for the last time.”

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We had the advantage in numbers. When my first few blows cut down the mage we also had an overwhelming advantage in ability, quickly defeating our opponents. We then freed the prisoner. “It’s time, then, is it?” He seemed to still be somewhat out of it, the after-effects of a blow to the head. “Time for what? Explain yourself.” “My execution, what do you think? You’re not with him, are you, though. No, I’d smell his rancid breath on you if you were.” “You’re right, we’re not Tazok’s lackeys. What’s going on here?” “Aye, you’re not…well, this whole place is dirty to the core, that’s what’s going on. These aren’t your ordinary bandits. They’re part Black Talons and part Chill, Chill being a demihuman band, mostly hobgoblins, and led by that creepy smart one, Ardenor Crush. There be others elsewhere, like that priest Mulahey sent to poison the mines of Nashkel. Set himself up as a kobold god returned and legions of the brainless barking fools believed him, ready to do his bidding ‘til death do they part...” “Mulahey’s dead. He was working for Tazok, I understand. Question is, who’s Tazok working for?” “That’s the trick, see? Crush and Taugosz Khosann, leader of the Black Talons, both think he’s getting orders from the Zhents and Tazok doesn’t do much to discourage that particular line of thinking. But the Black Talons and Chill are bandit groups, see? They ply the trade routes, avoid the cities, and that’s where they go wrong. I’m from the Gate and I can tell you dead as leather that the Zhentarim aren’t behind this.” “How can you be so sure?” “A desire for silence isn’t the only reason I wear soft-soled boots. I wear ‘em so I can tell whose toes I’m treading on. I didn’t mess with no Zhentarim. I picked my enemies and I messed with one group and one group only—the Iron Throne. And, right as rain, here I am as Tazok’s personal prisoner. You do the math.” “The Iron Throne. Where can I find them?” “Tazok’s been making regular visits to the Cloakwood so that’s where I’d start if I were you. There are some documents in that chest that might be worth taking a look at, too... Now go step on some toes, alright? And you can tell them Ender Sai sent you.” Ender Sai left, no doubt to report to his superior. After Safana disarmed a trap, Jaheira and I examined the letters we found in the chest. Tazok, I hope that everything moves along smoothly. I have written to give you instructions from our superiors. I have been told that a small band of mercenaries might cause the Iron Throne some trouble in the future. You are to insure that they don’t live to upset our operations. Obtain the services of the assassin Nimbul, he should serve you well. Davaeorn

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Tazok, I have noticed that your shipments of iron have slowed as of late. It is imperative that we receive another ton of ore. Step up your raids, and get a shipment to our base in Cloakwood within the next week. We need to stockpile as much ore as possible before our ultimatum is given. Also, Sarevok wants to know what has happened with the band of mercenaries. Have they been killed? You had better insure that they have been, as Sarevok will not take kindly to any other news. Davaeorn The combat in the tent had happened so quickly that no one else in the rest of the camp was aware of it. That is, until we left and deliberately attacked them. Surprised, they were able to mount no organized resistance. Although I’m sure a few individuals escaped in the fighting, both Ardenor Crush and Taugosz Khosann were killed. It would undoubtedly take weeks to track down the many small bands operating in this area, but the core of the bandit organization had been removed. The trail led from here to the Cloakwood Forest. Jaheira and Khalid would do some investigation of that angle. In the meantime, Jaheira suggested I sweep the area about the bandit camp, both to clear out bandits and for “more seasoning.” I strongly recommended she take Minsc and Dynaheir with her, since our enemy must know the names of more than myself, and it would be increasingly dangerous for all of us. I was surprised when she agreed. It was the first time she had changed her mind and agreed with anything I said outside of combat.

East of Beregost Imoen, Branwen, Kivan, Safana and I entered the Peldvale area. We had not gone far before a woman ran up to us. “Help me!” she cried. “If you don’t help me, they’ll kill me.” She had black skin, and white hair. I was instantly reminded of Drizzt Do’Urden, and correctly assumed she must be a renegade drow. I also assumed she must be a force for good like Drizzt, in which I was wrong. I should have trusted the feeling of unease she aroused in me. “Calm down, we’ll help you. Just tell us who you are.” “My name is Viconia, I…I’m not from around here, thank you so much for helping.” “Step aside travelers, I am a member of the Flaming Fist.” The man who approached was obviously who Viconia had been running from. “The woman you are harboring is wanted for murder of the foulest sort. She is a dark elf; it should be obvious that she is evil.” “They lie, I’ve done nothing wrong,” Viconia contradicted him. “What do you intend to do once you have her?” I asked. “Kill her, of course.”

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“We can’t allow that,” I firmly stated, moving in front of Viconia, “you’ll have to go through us to get her.” “A stupid decision! For harboring a murderer I sentence all of you to death!” We were forced to kill him. Viconia was grateful for our help. “I thank you for risking yourselves on my behalf. I know what you are thinking, you see my dark skin and won’t trust me for it. I am a dark elf, but I’m an outcast, I need your help. I no longer receive my powers from the spider gods you surface dwellers fear so; the Goddess Shar grants me wisdom, and she is a surface divinity. If you’d let me join your group, I would be most grateful. I have no where else to go.” “We don’t judge someone by their race, we’ll take you in.” I knew little of the drow at that time. Even though I have learned much more since, I still don’t regret my decision to save her from the obviously unjust accusations of the Flaming Fist mercenary. That night I had another dream. I dreamt I returned to the scene of my recent triumph, the bandit camp. A powerful gust of wind lifted me above the ground, allowing me to see the camp spread out below. Suddenly the impetus delivered by the gust ended, and I found myself rushing towards the ground. But rather than contact, I passed into the ground, into blackness. Light gradually grew around me, revealing a cavern, and a stone statue of myself. A voice rang out. “Such pride undeserved, great predator, when your whole being is borrowed. Credit where it is due, and dues where payment is demanded.” A dagger of bone flew from the blackness and struck the statue, square. It cracked slightly, but the pain I felt was as though I were rent asunder. As I awoke, screaming in pain, I heard the voice say, “You were made as you are, and you can also be broken.” I had also received another magical ability, although it took several days for me to realize I could now cure poisoning in others or myself. The morning started well enough. I had noticed Kivan frowning the previous day whenever he looked at Viconia. Evidently she had noticed as well, for she made a comment to him as we were eating breakfast. “Greetings darthiir, I know that you look upon me as an enemy, but perhaps we could ignore our differences.” Kivan did not reply, instead hastily getting up and walking away. That morning, I talked to Viconia. She revealed, quite proudly, that she was a dark elf from the Underdark city of Menzoberranzan. She said very little about her reasons for leaving that sunless realm, but did claim to no longer worship the spider goddess Lolth; a change that even I knew was often fatal. Her new faith was in the night goddess Shar, an appropriate choice for a drow, though from what Branwen told me when I asked about the goddess, this was not a firm indication that she had given up the brutal ways of her people. She found the laws of the surface world quaint and more than a little strange, but this was simply because of her lack of experience. Likewise she seemed a bit naïve about how her race was viewed by surface dwellers. Many would not give her the chance she seemed to expect. I tried my charm ability on her, but she seemed able to resist it. I had heard that drow were resistant to magic.

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A minor incident illustrated the rift developing in the party. As Viconia and I talked, we walked up behind Kivan. He had been leading the party, and had stopped to examine some tracks. When he looked up and saw Viconia standing next to him he scowled, speaking to her. “Stay away from me dark elf.” “Iblith!” Viconia replied haughtily returned his glare. “If that is how you want things, then so be it.” “Don’t make me warn you again, drow,” cautioned Kivan. “Your next slip will be your last.” “Don’t threaten me, Kivan, it shall only lead to your death.” I roughly told Kivan to get moving. Kivan again led, followed by myself, Viconia, Imoen, Safana and Branwen. I think Kivan also resented my having talked to Viconia, for a little while later he suddenly whirled. The words he spoke he hurled at Viconia, but I think they were for my benefit as well. “How are we to trust one who venerates the Spider Queen?” “I worship Lolth no longer.” Viconia answered levelly, but I noticed her hand had dropped to the hilt of the mace thrust through the belt at her waist. “Your evil ways will bring your ruin, dark elf,” taunted Kivan. “I will not accept such arrogance from a male.” Viconia’s self-control had snapped. She had now drawn her mace. “On your knees.” “You dark-hearted bitch, you’ll die for that.” Kivan grabbed an arrow from the quiver hanging from his side. “If you wish to die, I am pleased to assist.” Viconia hefted her mace, preparatory to rushing forward and swinging it at Kivan. I had been stunned at the rapidity that words had escalated to actions, and only with difficulty prevented Viconia and Kivan from fighting it out then and there. Despite the fact that it had been Kivan who had goaded Viconia into acting, I knew who I could ultimately rely upon. Viconia did not fit into the party. She had a cruel nature, which had been hardened by the reactions of surface dwellers, such as the Flaming Fist mercenary, who had formed his judgment without basing it on any actual crimes. I wonder how the common attitude of humans towards orcs, hobgoblins or other goblinoids has affected relations over the years. There might be groups of them who were perfectly content to live by their neighbors in peace, but “good” humans would exterminate them as pests, while “evil” humans would view them as little more than a source of expendable troops. When Imoen offered a word of regret at her leaving, Viconia viciously growled, “Get away from me surface scum!” I could understand how she felt rejected, but there could be no place for her here. At the end of the day we came upon four Red wizards of Thay, camped in the ruins of a shrine. Even if we had not met Edwin, the distinctive garb of the Red Wizards was well known. I wondered if they had been waiting for Edwin to report; if so, they were

66 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast destined to be disappointed, for I am sure Edwin would not voluntarily seek out one of his brethren after his failure. “It is so sad to have met you this fine day,” stated one of them. “Normally, we would be quite ecstatic to have visitors; but in these troubled times we really do desire privacy. We just can’t afford to have anyone knowing that we’re here. That is why you must die.” Although their spells proved troublesome, they were not prepared to fight Branwen and me at close quarters, not to mention the missiles of the others. After the battle, I was surprised that Imoen carefully searched each body, removing the book of magic each mage had carried. She told me Dynaheir had been teaching her something of spellcraft. Dynaheir had also given her a blank spellbook. She wished to copy new spells from our defeated opponents into it. She even admitted she had cast a spell during the combat, minor in effect but major in its implications for her future development. The next day a scarred female warrior intercepted us as we walked. She had an interesting proposal. “Hold travelers, I challenge your best warrior to a duel. I don’t fight women, so only men should step forward.” Before I could react, Kivan answered, asking what could be won. “I win and you give me 20 gold. In the unlikely event that one of you bests me, I’ll pledge my sword to your cause.” Kivan agreed to her terms, leaving me angry at his presumption. However, since he so desperately wanted to face off against this woman, I let him go ahead. “Will your champion step forward?” the woman asked impatiently. “I only fight men, so your women will have to be satisfied with just watching. Don’t entertain any thoughts about cheating. If any of the rest of you try to interfere in this fight I’ll kill them outright.” Kivan, since she hadn’t specified weapons, used his bow, running away from her and stopping to fire an arrow when he had a chance. Since she was wearing heavy armor, his strategy was on the whole successful, although she did catch up to him a few times and deliver a stinging cut. Nevertheless, even the woman had to admit she had lost when the fourth arrow sprouted from her. “I can’t believe this, I’m beaten, by a man no less. I guess I must keep my word. I pledge my sword to your cause, however stupid it may be.” “Good, you had better prove your worth.” I was uneasy, since I sensed what I was now confident to call evil in her. I decided I would make this a test, and see if her actions matched what I sensed. “Of course I’ll prove my worth!” she replied. “It won’t be too hard in this group.” I talked to the woman, whose name was Shar-Teel. She would say little, but I was able to determine a few facts. She claimed to be an orphan, and bore an intense dislike for Flaming Fist mercenaries, as well as men in general. She obviously felt she had something to prove.

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Shortly afterward we met a ghoul. A most unusual ghoul, which rather than attacking talked to us. “Wait, me no want fight, me Korax, me friend!” I had to grab hold of Shar-Teel’s arm to prevent her cutting the ghoul in half while I considered what to do. It was novel to me to be addressed by undead with anything other than blows. I decided to test this ghoul, as well. “You can be our friend, but you better not do anything that’ll make us mad.” “Me will be good boy, me promise. Me will help you with anything you need.” We set off, the ghoul happily trotting at my heels. A little later, we came upon a basilisk, a lizard-like creature whose glance can turn a human to stone. We had heard tales of these creatures, and nervously stood back, considering what to do. “Me kill your enemies, yes me will!” announced Korax, sauntering towards the creature. He appeared to be immune to its gaze, as he attacked it with impunity. Heartened, the rest of us attacked as well. Other than its unusual attack, the basilisk was a weak opponent, easily slain. We started to come upon statues, the remains of creatures that had been stoned. We also came upon more basilisks. Everyone was glad of the presence of Korax, despite his comments like “Korax good dog, yes, good dog!” and “Korax thinks you look very tasty today.” We slowly worked our way forward through denser statuary. We walked around a pair of stone gnolls, to find two large basilisks, along with a living gnome, the gleam of madness in his eyes. “Greetingssss…I am Mutamin. I hope you enjoy the artwork my pretty lizards have sculpted. They sculpt with their eyessss. They sculpt when nasty travelers come by, yesssss. I don’t like nasty travelers. They should keep to the roads.” “You murdering psychopath!” I yelled, my anger having slipped its leash. “Your lizards have killed people, and we’re not about to let them keep on killing.” “You will go nowhere! You will join the beautiful work of art that standssss before you. You will become a piece of the art…forever.” Shar-Teel ignored my orders to concentrate on the gnome first. She joined Korax in facing the two basilisks. After the rest of us had killed Mutamin, we found Korax had fallen to the claws of the two basilisks, while Shar-Teel was a statue. The lizards had been weakened enough, however, that we were able to dispose of them with no further loss. I had purchased several magical scrolls that could convert stone back to flesh in the Temple of Lathander in Beregost. I now used one on Shar-Teel. When she was again among the living, I informed her that she was no longer traveling with us. Not only did she choose to ignore any order she pleased, but also her general attitude boded ill if we should encounter anyone we didn’t wish to annihilate. Her answer surprised me. “Damn it, you lose one well-fought duel to an oafish lout of a man and you get attached. I almost hate to say it but you’ve earned my respect.” I do not think it was out

68 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast of any regard for my leadership, but due to my and Kivan’s prowess as warriors. She left, in search of more men to challenge. Almost all of the statues around us were too far gone to be rescued. Some were broken into pieces, while Imoen could sense if any magic remained in those that were whole. Only one human-like statue looked promising, that of a female warrior. I used a scroll on it, freeing her. The woman completed the blow she may have started months ago, then looked around in surprise. “What…who are…what has happened?” “Rest yourself, you have likely been petrified for some time now.” “Petri…? How…I remember fighting some gnolls and…and one turned to stone right before my eyes! I turned around and there was this lizard-thing…and then…and then you. I was turned to stone? For how long?” “I do not know. All that is important is that you are free now.” “I…I thank you! You have rescued a perfect stranger and…and asked for nothing in return. Certainly a selfless act if ever I have heard of one. I shall speak well of you to anyone that asks. Thank you once again!”

Ulcaster and Firewine We continued on the next day towards the ruins of Ulcaster. As we marched, another messenger crossed our path. He told us Amn and Baldur’s Gate were demanding of each other that they stop their raids on their respective merchant caravans. This is the kind of exchange that precedes a war; I hoped our destruction of the main bandit camp would help reduce tensions. Ulcaster is sited atop a plateau, steep drops falling away on almost all sides. We followed a narrow trail up one cliff face, finding at the top the remains of walls crowded onto the limited level ground. An undead warrior glided from among the ruins, its skeletal form blurred. A moaning voice issued from the figure. “Flesh here…enough to make me…whole again...” “Halt, wraith, and reveal thy nature!” I demanded. “I am Icharyd…greatest of warriors... I wish to live and…taste blood, once more... Yours shall be the first…in a hundred years...” The last hundred years hadn’t been enough time to make the creature a proficient warrior. We laid Icharyd to rest, although I suppose it might form again after another century. We continued into the ruins. There was little to see other than empty doorways and tottering walls, until we ran into a ghost. The ghost also spoke to us in a moaning whisper. “The best of schools…a storehouse of arcane knowledge…lost, all lost…a common dungeon, now... All for knowledge did we strive…nothing left... Hope would return with

69 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast the retrieval of the simplest of tomes…beneath the rubble…on the lowest floors…return hope…history is so important...” I wondered if this was all that remained of Ulcaster, the namesake of the ruined school of magic. Since there seemed nothing we could do for him, we examined the steps leading downward, almost where the ghost hovered. As we went down the steps the ghost voiced a last thought. “We all shall live again…someday...” The underground section of the school was intact; at least none of the ceilings had collapsed. In our exploration we had to fight off the residents which had entered, jellies, spiders, and wolves. We found a little treasure, some probably from previous explorers who had not fared as well. We also found a book, from its stained and insect-eaten state a relic of the school. When we returned to the surface, the ghost was still waiting nearby. I halted, considering what we had found below. I approached the ghost, and handed it the book. The tome disappeared from my outstretched hand, no indication where it had gone. The ghost spoke again. “Knowledge returns with these simple words on parchment…to teach once more…in a celestial class... I will prevent the same from happening…some day...” I wondered if the ghost of Ulcaster, for I was now sure that was what this was, would be able to lay down its burdens in this world when all the knowledge lost in the ruins was returned to it. However, I made no effort to make any further searches; it seemed fitting to me that future adventurers should continue the task. We rested nearby for the night. The next day we headed for Gullykin, a halfling village I had heard was near Firewine Bridge. Near the village, we came upon more bounty hunters. Their leader, who recognized me, addressed us. “So…we finally meet. Poor little Rolanna, I assume you’re completely clueless as why you must die. I’m sure you’ve already had problems with an assortment of incompetent bounty hunters. Well those days are done, today…you will die.” “Wait a moment! Who is it that wants us dead?” I had a faint hope I might learn more about my persecutor. “Before I die, I want to know whose name should be my dying curse.” “Do not think I would be so foolish as to betray my master’s name. You may know that I am Molkar, and I am your death. Now, die!” After we had defeated the two humans, a dwarf, and a gnome I didn’t bother carefully searching their bodies for a clue as to what the bounty on my head presently was. That joke had worn rather thin. When we entered Gullykin, we asked the nearest halfling where we could find the headman. He was not hard to find, since he was nearby enjoying the late morning sun, stretched out asleep on the ground. When we woke him he seemed pleased to see visitors, giving us a hearty welcome. “Gandolar Luckyfoot, at your disposal. To what does our little village owe the pleasure of your visit? Off to Durlag’s Tower? Or have you already been, and now ye

70 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast need your breaks and bruises healed? Many a wanderer comes to town nearly bled to death.” “It is not a day for Durlag’s Tower. Today I’m interested in your Firewine ruins, and I’d be grateful if you’d show the best way.” “Aye, I can point the way to you, and gladly so, but I must warn you as well. There be many an odd thing that roam through there, and I hear tell they be a touch more organized than your normal critters, but I hear many things. Just go to the basement of the winery, there you will find a secret door.” He paused, his cheerful demeanor damped, as he obviously considered how to phrase something he wanted to say. “If I might pull on your coattail a moment more, I have a proposition for you. It’s usually nature-quiet by the Firewine ruins, even with its violent bygone. Those who died and did not sleep have mostly found their rest over time. It’s a live threat that comes now, with a band of kobolds that moved in. Perhaps we could prevail upon you to rid us of this menace, and in return a gift from us you shall receive. Keep whatever you find, as well.” “Have you no brave halflings up to the task? It cannot be so.” “We’ve a number of hearty tunnelrats, but they’re off hunting with a band of goblinstickers and not due back for a time or two. It’s better if the creatures in the ruin are expelled before they dig in tight and deep. Help us will you?” “I’ll gladly aid you small folk as best I can.” As we left Gandolar told us, “Gullykin is our pride and joy. Treat her well.” I decided to investigate the village more thoroughly before I did anything else. Few halflings had come to Candlekeep, and certainly, I had never seen any halfling dwellings. It helped that the individuals we met were uniformly welcoming. We learned odd bits about the history of Gullykin, said to have been founded by a band of halflings fleeing persecution in Amn, and nearby Firewine Bridge, which was an elven trading town until it was destroyed in a wizard’s duel some two hundred years back. The halflings we met were so friendly that I had begun to freely open the door of any dwelling that wasn’t locked, and simply walk inside. I did so at one house, and hearing noise from downstairs descended the steps. The halfling who was down there was not happy to see me and my companions. “What in the nine hells are you doing in my burrow home! I don’t know why you’re here, but any assumptions you might have about halfling hospitality, does not apply to me. When an intruder breaks into my home, I kill ‘em.” There was a strange smell down here, one I had smelled before. “It sort of smells like kobold in your little hole. I wonder why that is? I thought halflings hated kobolds.” “Oh no. You’ve found me out. Yes, I’m the one who has been letting the kobolds into our quaint little town. It’s just too bad that you won’t be alive to tell anyone about it.”

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He pulled a knife and stabbed Branwen in the knee. I drew my sword, wondering if I would have to kill him, but Branwen had already swung her warhammer, with fatal consequences, which took the decision out of my hands. While Branwen healed her injury, and I searched the halfling’s body, Imoen found a secret entry to steps leading down, Kivan kept watch for anything untoward, and Safana searched the dwelling for valuables. Typical behavior which I had come to expect from my companions. The steps behind the secret panel, when descended, issued into a small chamber which an ogre mage had made his lair. The creature was at home. “MMMaaaahaha! Puny peoples come to fight!? Good! It has been much fun killing the little people of Gullykin…but it will be just as much fun killing you!” “We’ve come to put an end to your evil tyranny!” I recognized this must be the one behind the halflings’ problems. “You and your minions will bother Gullykin no more! Prepare to die!” “Ha! Me prepared for plenty death! All yours! You fall for trap, like all others! Me pester little halflings, and ‘heroes’ come to dungeon! They always have better treasure than simple halflings! Now we fight, you die, and me get all you have! Raaaagh!” We killed the ogre mage, a human mage, four ogrillons and several kobolds. The underground hallways we were in burrowed their way for quite some distance, as we were to find out. The kobolds we had killed actually presaged a greater problem than the ogre mage. They were armed with fire arrows; groups of them seemed to appear from the walls of the narrow twisty passages we traversed, bedeviling our forward progress. I found it quite unsettling to charge into a room, facing half a dozen bolts of fire arcing my way. The pressure was on me, since I was usually able to take the arrows on my shield, or be protected from the fire by my armor. Imoen and Safana had no such protection, so I endeavored to draw the kobolds’ shots. Despite their unique weaponry, they were still kobolds, and could not stand long in close combat once within the reach of a sword. We also encountered an undead knight, who insisted we strike it down and take its armor back, although it didn’t say back where. I obediently took the battered, useless armor. Quite nearby, five ghostly knights waited. When I handed one the armor, it seemed to satisfy some purpose, for they disappeared after one spoke a final thought. “So it was…So it is… Together enter… Together fall... Brother traitor completes the one… Together free...” We fought our way through the labyrinth, finally emerging into the sunlight on its far side. We came up in the ruins of a house, although I could see the top of a much larger ruin not far off. We had gone a little distance when a man hailed us. We descended a path into a rather wide ravine. I looked down it, realizing the structure I had noticed earlier was a huge stone bridge. We were actually in an empty riverbed. A scream brought my mind back to present affairs. We approached a robed woman. “He’s driving me…mad! Oh please make it stop, make him stop his screaming. AAAHhhhhhh…shut it up!”

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“What’s wrong? What is driving you to madness?” I didn’t see anything around that should be causing this reaction. “If you want help, you’re going to have to calm down.” “He… it’s in my head. It won’t be quiet, just keeps on whispering, and whispering. You see this jar. Do you see it?!” “We see the jar, now just calm down and tell us what’s happening.” “My companions and I…we explored the Firewine ruins…and we found… We found, this jar. It…it drove them all mad. They hacked and they cut, and…the blood, so much blood. They’re all dead now, and only I’m left. The voice…it tells me to say the name. If I say the name, it promises great rewards. But…I won’t…I won’t.” “What do you want us to do? How can we help you?” “Poor Carsa cannot be helped. You can’t help Carsa! You must run, and run fast. Soon Carsa will not be able to resist…soon Carsa will say its name. Then it will come… and there will be blood…my blood, your blood.” “Just give us the jar Carsa. We’ll know what to do with it. Don’t worry.” “No! Carsa will not give the jar. The jar is Carsa’s and hers alone. Get away…get away or Carsa will say the name…and we will all die.” “Give us the jar Carsa. Give it to us now!” I had been sensing evil from Carsa. Now I wondered if it came from something she carried, something that needed to be destroyed. “You not take the jar from Carsa. It’s mine. mine!! Stay away, or I say the name. Stay away.” “We’re taking the jar from you, whether you like it or not.” “NOOO. KAHRK!! OH MIGHTY KAHRK!!!” Carsa died, blood spurting as her skin split in a dozen places. In her place stood an ogre mage. “I am free…at last. Mortals, before you die, know that you have pleased Kahrk, mightiest of the Ogre Magi. Your deaths shall feed my power, for now I am weak.” The ogre surrounded itself with a field that was impervious to magic, but it had no such protection against normal weapons. Branwen and I, backed up by Kivan, managed to bring it down. “I am proud to stand among such strong warriors,” commented Branwen to Kivan and me after the combat. After a little more exploration in the dry riverbed, we climbed the bank, and headed towards the Firewine Bridge. The elves had built well; it was whole other than a few cracks and a narrow opening where the two sides of the bridge had pulled away from one another, leaving a gap in the deck. We also met a bard, Poe, on the bridge, who enthusiastically greeted us. “A hale and hearty hello mine friends! A fine day, is it not? It was not always so serene in these parts though, as you can no doubt discern from the ruins about us all. Tragic loss to the area it was, some 300 years past. I’ve tales though; tales of heroes and

73 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast villains that have come and gone amidst these stones since that prosperous time. Could I entreat your ears to hear one? It is an epic I have been working on for some time, based on the rumors I hear and the strange things I see in my dreams at night. Would you care for a story this eve?” When I indicated my assent, he continued. “Wonderful! Stand relaxed and I shall relate it to you! It is a poetic treatise I should like to call ‘The Knights of Days Hence.’ Eh…I know the title needs work, but the soul of the piece is right and true!” I’ve a tale, a tale to tell of Knights so bold and dungeon hell and slumber broke upon the shore of nightmare’s reef when dawn no more. A story true of courage lack, and footing lost on virtues track and trailing far but near to fear a vengeance scream through night to ear. The swordsmen came by two and four to take their fight to evil’s core with confidence in might and right went bravely forward spreading light. But light alone canst clear the path when suffers all a hellish wrath from deep below whence fires came, still none above dare speak the name. Together fought, together fell till good had won, though stories tell the cursed tale of treachery when evil stole the victory. Heroes bold betrayed behind from friend made foe with gold in mind to take and plunder riches won. Twas evil new, though old undone. In glory slept the hero knights but knife to throat did snuff the lights behind their eyes, a simple deed. Twas honor dead as killed by greed. Strong enough to break a vow, alone with gold he struggled now to leave his dungeon deed and hide. Alone he fell; alone he died. Widows weep and orphans cry and bards oft sing as maidens sigh for want of heroes lost below that haunt in sleep with ghostly glow. On guard the guard eternal stand

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though neither see nor sense the land before their eyes beyond their age they wait with unbelieving rage. When one for all turns all for one the injured souls take solace none in death’s release so stand they will, til honor’s need someone dost fill. Together enter, together fall. Tis as the vow agreed by all and all must stand and wait in time for one that ran to face the crime. I have not been, but have been told of Knights of days gone past so bold to warrant heartfelt prayers from thee, that rogue’s return might set them free. I do not have a good ear for poetry, but it seemed to me I had heard better. However, it was interesting that the story seemed to concern the ghostly knights I had met in the underground labyrinth. “An interesting piece, young bard. Is there any truth behind it?” “Ah, but there is some truth in everything, is there not? I cannot attest to the validity of the tale itself, as I have only culled from hearsay. I only know for certain that it makes for good patronage when I pass my hat. Strikes a chord with many, it does.” We completed the bridge crossing, and returned to Gullykin. The headman was saddened to hear of the treachery and death of one of his own, who we learned was named Jenkal. But he was pleased at our other news. “Rolanna! You have cleared out the Firewine bridge ruins! No longer will kobolds plague our tiny village. I must congratulate you on a job well done. Everyone is grateful for your help. Take this small amount of money as a show of our gratitude.”

Ankhegs After returning to Beregost to restock supplies, we headed north of the Friendly Arm Inn to clear out any bandits. As we approached more closely the great city of Baldur’s Gate, the land became more friendly, farm buildings and plowed fields replacing woods and bracken. “Halt, be you friend or foe?” an armored man walking on the road towards us suddenly demanded. “We’re friends, who are you?” I asked. The man was young, perhaps younger than me, and very earnest with his question, although I had to wonder how many replies of “foe” he had gotten. “I am Ajantis,” he replied, “squire paladin of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, servant to Helm, son of the noble family of Ilvastarr. I am here to hunt down the vile brigands who assault those traveling these roads. What of you?”

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“We share a similar goal, we too are after the bandits who have been raiding along the Coast way. Why do you fight against these brigands, Ajantis?” “When I introduced myself, you perhaps heard when I referred to myself as a Squire knight. I am on a quest to earn my right to be a full-fledged member of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart. Perhaps we could join forces, for we both wish to see the end of this bandit threat.” “Why not, we could use another warrior.” I was interested to learn more about him, and the order he claimed to serve, although in the more settled region we were traversing I thought we would find few bandits. A little further ahead I stopped to ask an armored woman standing by the side of the road exactly where we were. She spoke before I could, incorrectly assuming a different reason for our presence. “You’ve come here to fight ankhegs? Well, listen up: it’s mating season, so it’s primarily females coming up to the surface, looking to put on a little extra weight. They’re hungry, they’re aggressive, and there are a lot of them. Now, the point of this exercise is not to exterminate them, but to keep their population to a manageable level. Remember, they aerate the soil and thereby improve crop yields by as much as 15%. Food is going to be scarce enough in the next few years, so keep that in mind when you’re out there. No more than ten ankhegs per party. After that it’s catch and release, alright? Most of the activity starts about fifty yards to the east. Now move out, everyone. I’ll keep an eye on things from here.” I wasn’t sure what an ankheg was, but it sounded like an interesting adventure. Not far away we encountered our first ankheg. It suddenly burrowed up from the ground not far away. An ankheg is covered in armored plates, reminding one of an insect, with multiple clawed limbs, and a head and mouth shaped to aid digging. A full grown individual is about twice as long as I am tall. Its mouth parts are quite capable of cutting through armor, but unless you choose to fight them, like us, they are normally easy to outrun, since they cannot burrow through the ground faster than a slow walk, and do not like to move about above ground. “Please…will no one help me? Anyone?” a farmer begged us as we cut across his field. “I’ve nowhere else to be turnin’. I beseech thee, please help. It’s strange happenings at my farm and I’ve not the strength I once had. I’ve nothing to offer, and even if I did I doubt such as you would have need of it. Please.” “You need look no further for aid. What can I do?” I noticed Ajantis beamed approvingly at my words. “Oh by the Great Mother, thank you! My son Nathan and his friends went looking for our missing cattle, then they just up and disappeared! Been gone for days now and, with all the bandits around, who knows what’s happened. I don’t know where they were heading, but I saw some sort o’ tracks to the west. Please find Nathan; I can’t afford to keep the farm without my son.” As we tracked following the farmer’s directions, Ajantis volunteered some information about himself. Besides being a squire-paladin of the Order of the Most Radiant Heart, he stated he enforced the power and discipline of Helm. He had studied

76 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast swordplay under such luminaries as Myrmith Splendon. His skill and devotion apparently brought him to the attention of the paladin Keldorn, one of the most respected of the order, who decided to take Ajantis under his wing as a squire. Recently, Ajantis had asked for the honor of becoming a full-fledged member of the order. To accomplish this he had traveled the Sword Coast, in order to help curtail the increased humanoid activity in the region. If he succeeded in his quest, the order would vote on his eligibility for membership. He seemed utterly devoted to this mission. The tracks led to the opening of an underground cave complex. It had been created by ankhegs, but the walls were nearly as hard as rock, not the soft dirt I would have expected. Perhaps some excretion of the ankhegs explained this. We found large numbers of the creatures. Ajantis always placed himself in the forefront in any battles against these beasts, yelling his battlecry, “For the glory of Helm!” We also found the body of a boy in his early teens. We carried the body back to the farmer, who was named Brun. “Have you found my son? Is he well?” He anxiously asked when he saw us, not realizing the significance of our cloak-wrapped burden. I had the unhappy task of telling him the truth. “I am afraid Nathen is dead, sir. He died defending your farm from a nest of strange beasts.” “No. My only son…It is a black day. He died for this farm, but I am too old to work it and too poor to hire someone else. I’ve lost him and the land. At least now I know… Thank you for your help but…I wish to be alone now.” “What am I to do...” muttered the farmer as he turned away from us, not wanting us to see the tears in his eyes. “Brun…we have all we need,” I said, holding out a pouch of coins. “In fact, you’d be doing us a favor if you would take this extra off our hands. It’s a burden for us to carry.” “Well…if it’s causin’ you strife to hang on to it, I suppose I could…hold it for ya. Thank you, strangers. I don’t believe I’ll see the like of you again.” Soon after we encountered again the official in charge of the ankheg hunt. Unaware of the human tragedy we had just witnessed, she busied herself counting the heads of the beasts we had killed. After making an official tally, she spoke to us. “Good work, and I’ll trust that you stuck to the quota. Here is 75 gp. Go find yourself a room in the city and rest up. You’ve earned it.” We walked north and west, coming to the south bank of the River Chionthar. We went a ways west along the river, coming upon several houses of fishermen, their boats on blocks out of the water. A group of three fishermen nearby noted our interest. “I’m sorry but we’ve no fish today,” said one. “Perhaps in…less troubling times.” “Wait Jebadoh, maybe they’re the answer to the problem,” interjected a second. “They look pretty trustworthy.” “Oh yeah, the problem.” Jebadoh was downcast, not appearing to be very interested any longer in this “problem.” “Sorry for my manner but we’re…we’re a poor folk not

77 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast accustomed to trouble, and it’s hard times now. We can’t but get a boat into the water before she’s swamped by the rains.” “It’s that bitch of Umberlee! She’s the one!” angrily stated the third man. “Steady Telman,” cautioned the second. “What he means is, we’re being harassed by a priest of the Bitch Queen Umberlee. We don’t even know why, but whenever we attempt to fish she turns the weather sour. Two of us were washed away just walking to the docks, but we cannot prove to the guard it was her. We be needin’ someone to strong arm her into leaving us alone. We’ve not much money, but I’ll gladly give you a… magical weapon from my grandfather’s adventuring days. It’s a meager amount for your trouble, but it would be a great service to us. Will you help a group of poor fishermen?” “Your offer is fair. Consider it done.” I would see what I could do for these simple fishermen. “Ah, I knew we could depend on you to do what’s right. She hides out near a small shack to the north. Watch yer backs and act quickly; she’s tricky. Good luck brave friends.” The second man told us his name was Sonner. We backtracked along the river bank, heading east, and as the river curved, north. We passed the great bridge over the river that connects to Baldur’s Gate. A short distance past here we stopped at a house that matched the description given us by the fishermen. A young girl was standing in front. She could have been no older than twelve. “Stop! You are trespassing on my land-home!” she yelled at us. “None come this way armed as your are; it was those horrible fishermen what hired you wasn’t it? Speak!” “Um…they did send me,” I had to admit, “but I wish only to know what is going on.” “What goes on is none of your business! Leave now, lest you earn the same fate that they have!” I did not make a move. I had a strong sense of evil from the child, surprising to me in one so young. There was something happening here that I needed to settle. “I warn you once again to leave my home,” she said. “If you do not, I must assume you are allied with my enemies!” I asked again what was going on. “As cowardly as they are treacherous; hiring others to do what they could not! Tonight I shall put an end to all of this! The seas cry for vengeance!” The girl attacked me, swinging a small mace. With a yell, I told the others not to get involved. I dealt her a buffet with my fist, sending her to her knees, the mace flying out of her hand. She gave a cry of frustration. “Why do you do this? Don’t you know what they’ve done? Sonner and the others, they are the evil ones! They killed my mother and now you help them?! She only did her duty, collecting the offerings from those that would use the sea. They stole her elemental summoning bowl, and tortured her for the words that make it work. Now they all misuse

78 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast a gift from Umberlee to pillage the seas, and my mothers spirit can’t rest until it is returned. I have more power than mother had, Umberlee gave me her anger, but I can’t find the bowl. All I can do is hurt them ‘till they give it back or die, but I’m so tired. I don’t have mother’s will, and the goddess is so demanding. Help me, please.” There was a little girl in there after all. Despite the evil I sensed, I believed what she said. “Shh, child. I shall help as best I can.” “Oh thank you! The Sea Queen may yet be satisfied with the return of the bowl, but one way or another Sonner’s group must no longer profit at her expense. It is probably being hidden in a shrine to another god. I don’t know where the shrine is, and couldn’t go near even if I did, but Sonner may tell you…if you ask him with a blade. Go now, for Umberlee is seldom patient, and you are not yet on her good side.” I asked if I could speak to her in private for a few moments, since I wanted to be sure I had made the right decision. The others in the party moved off to give us some room. I used my charm ability on her, and asked her about herself. “New friend of mine! You may call me Tenya, and know that I am a priestess of Umberlee. For many weeks now I have searched for the relic that was stolen from my mother. The fishermen Telman, Jebadoh, and Sonner stole it when they became jealous of her power. I will soon have my revenge against these petty fishermen.” I returned to the others, telling them we would get the summoning bowl from the fishermen and return in to Tenya. Ajantis protested my decision, asking why we were aiding such an evil child. I was surprised, and asked how he could know she was evil as I did, since I had assumed this was an ability only I possessed. He in turn was surprised, explaining this was an ability all paladins possessed; he had known I was a paladin as soon as he had met me, which explained his ready offer to join. Ajantis was always claiming to find evil. When we had been in the underground cave burrowed by the Ankhegs, he had told everyone that “This dungeon has a sense of evil about it.” When we had passed through a small copse of woods on our way here, he had said, “This forest has a sense of evil about it.” I suspected he could find a taint of evil everywhere except a temple to a good god, which is not too surprising, for who but a few saints are completely good? When we returned to the fishermen, I asked first to speak to Sonner, alone. When I used my charm ability on him he confirmed my decision. “My name’s Sonner, and I’m a simple fisherman. Lately, a young priestess of Umberlee has been causin’ me and my friends a lot of trouble. Seems she wants revenge against us for killing her mother. Well, we had to. A Talos priest promised his favor upon us if we did. Caught between gods, we are. You are as well.” When Sonner recovered, we returned to where the others were waiting. “You again?” asked Jebadoh. “Have you done it?!” Telman asked excitedly. “Have you killed the bitch?” “This…priestess had much to say about the group of you,” I replied ambiguously. “She knows we sent you?” Telman paled. “Damn it, she’ll kill us all for...”

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“Hold your tongue Telman,” ordered Sonner. “Now I warned ya she was treacherous. You’ve gone and believed her lies, haven’t you?. What did she say; that we stole some bowl or something? Seems a pretty shallow excuse to kill us over, doesn’t it? Now as I said before, we are but poor fishermen, but what if we toss in another…oh… 100 gold. Will that change your mind?” These three were on a swift slide to evil. After having killed Tenya’s mother, they had balked at murdering her child, but not so much they wouldn’t hire someone else to do it. I had to wait a moment before replying to contain my anger. “The child has said that you killed her mother and have been taking far too much from the seas. I don’t like being used, Sonner. It makes me…angry.” “Well that’s it then!” Telman was now white, and shaking slightly. “The jig’s up isn’t it?” “That bitch priestess was taking tribute from us for years!” protested Jebadoh. “The price just kept climbing, and you can’t sail without appeasing Umberlee! The cleric of Talos in Baldur’s Gate said...” “Suffice to say,” Sonner said more calmly, “we made other arrangements for our safe passage at sea. Part of that deal was a little payback as well. So you see, we are all pawns within the ‘friendly’ rivalries of the gods. You had best tread carefully, lest you step on some pretty powerful toes.” “Give me the bowl, Sonner,” I demanded, sick of his justifications. “I’ll not ask so nicely a second time!” “I suppose I have little choice then. I’ve had it on me the entire time; we felt it was safest that way. Take it, but know that the Storm Lord knows who it is that opposes him. You’ve got what ye came for, now get out of here. I should stay well away from any Talos shrine if I were you. Vengeful things these gods.” Branwen wanted us to kill these, as she put, cowardly murderers. I forbade it; the fishermen had already suffered, and their deaths would not bring back Tenya’s mother. It was ironic that the fishermen had killed in order to protect their livelihood, but after angering Umberlee, they were fools if they did not flee as fast and as far from the sea as they could. I didn’t pass this advice along, as they were in no mood to hear any more words of mine. Ajantis agreed with my decision regarding the fishermen, but I think he still couldn’t understand why I was helping Tenya. He also had a comment for Safana. “I think it would be wise for you to improve your conduct while in this party.” “You could be somewhat more creative in your insults.” Safana had ignored Ajantis since he had joined the party, unlike Kivan. After this comment, she returned to ignoring him. “You return. I trust you bear good news?” stated Tenya when we came to her again. “Here is the bowl that was taken from your mother. Perhaps now she will rest.”

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“Umberlee is mother now, and she is well pleased. She will deal with Sonner’s group in time, and Talos will no doubt abandon them for their failure. If they are wise they will never set sail again, for the sea will take their worthless lives. I have no reward for you, but the Sea Queen remembers those that serve her well. You will be paid…in time.” As we rested after this, I took the opportunity to question Ajantis about how he came to realize he was called to be a paladin. He explained that as a teen he had felt a strong sense while he was in the Temple of Helm that he needed to serve the god in some way. He consulted with a priest of the temple, who determined he had been called to follow a martial path, and suggested he join the Order of the Most Radiant Heart in the city of Athkatla in Amn. I did feel a strong urge to see justice done where I could, but I had felt no corresponding desire to follow any god. It was something I needed to think on. I sat and meditated on this. We were resting alongside the Coast Way. As I sat, suddenly a familiar voice rang out. “Hello, my unfortunate friends. No doubt a comrade or two has met their deaths, and now you require me to step into their still-warm boots.” Xan was standing there. He told me he had finished reporting to his superiors, and was now available to help. I agreed he could accompany us, and introduced him to those he didn’t know. Kivan and Branwen seemed willing to accept him, while I noticed Safana sizing him up, probably hoping to play him off against Kivan. Ajantis was not so accepting. He did not care for Xan’s despondent personality, exemplified by comments such as “We’re all doomed,” or “Let us save our effort and just lie down and die.” Since we were so close, I decided to visit Baldur’s Gate. I had heard descriptions of the city from many travelers who came to Candlekeep, and was anxious to see it for myself. To my surprise, after crossing the bridge to it, the city’s great gate was shut. A Flaming Fist mercenary standing guard before the gate explained what was going on. “Sorry traveler, but the entrance to Baldur’s Gate is closed. With all of the bandit activity about, we’ve been forced to keep the gate closed. Perhaps if you return later, things may have changed and we may be able to re-open the city.” “This is the city of Baldur’s Gate!” I protested. To be honest, my pride was also a little hurt. I had been working for weeks to end the bandit menace, and unreasonably expected those within the city to be fully aware of my efforts. “You have the mighty Flaming Fist to defend you. Why would you be afraid of bandit excursions?” “Normally what you have said would be true, but most of the Flaming Fist is down to the south, and the Grand Dukes feel that the city is exposed. I apologize for any inconvenience, but there is nothing I can do.” As we left the guard, Ajantis made a comment to Xan. “There is not but good and evil. I suspect you are of the latter.” “It seems our resident suicide monger, Ajantis,” replied Xan, “lives in a black and white world.” I agreed with Xan’s assessment. My fellow paladin Ajantis (I still wasn’t certain the term paladin truly applied to me) could no more sense evil from Xan than I could. But Ajantis had a need to simplify everything around him, ignoring that most people have no strong tendency towards either good or evil.

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After we had recrossed the bridge, a fisherman hailed us from his boat. He came from the village of Ulgoth’s Beard. This village is at the mouth of the Chionthar River (Baldur’s Gate is a good quarter-day’s row further up the river). For a little cash, he offered to take us to the village. I agreed. Ulgoth’s Beard proved much more fascinating than I would have thought. A little time spent in the local inn allowed me to hear numerous rumors. Word of an ancient cult risen again, unsubstantiated tales of a murderous creature stalking the night, and talk of strange goings on in the house of Shandalar, the powerful and eccentric mage who made his home in the normally sleepy village. I also learned that tours of the fabled Tower of Durlag operated from Ulgoth’s Beard; the tower sounded like a place where adventurers could test their mettle. I wondered if perhaps such a test would better prepare me to fight the darkness that threatened to destroy the Sword Coast and me with it. However, I had agreed to meet Jaheira at Beregost soon, so I could spend only a little more time here. I did meet a gentleman who invited us into his house. He had an interesting story. “You are heroes for Sword Coast, I, um, long wait to meet you. I am Mendas of Waterdeep, quester of small truth in this land. We, that is, I am in need of favor from you. I have a money for pay and a big heart for friendship. Can you help a gentle fellow in search for knowledge?” “Knowledge is a worthy pursuit my friend. I will help if I can.” I was happy to have met someone who had heard of us; our fame must be spreading if word of our deeds had reached even this backwater. I didn’t think to wonder at the time that Mendas didn’t seem to know our names or any particulars of what we had done. “Tragic things are happening in this unfair, uh, how you say…world. The men with power, they hurt the men with none. They destroy things that teach us better life. I tell you true, it would be better if these men are not born! This Merchant League, these bad men, they find the island to the west. The island has a broken ship, an, uh, shipwreck. Very old shipwreck, they say.” “How did the Merchant League discover the island?” “They sail to New World and big storm blow them north. The sailors can’t control boat and it almost crash on island rocks. It is very stormy but they can see the old wrecked ship. They come back to Baldur’s Gate and sell sea charts to Merchant’s League. A pox upon them!” “Why is the Merchant’s League interested in an island in the middle of nowhere? What does it boast besides dangerous shores and a rotting ship?” “These merchant men are greedy. They want island and ship. May their bones rot in Nine Hells! The merchants want treasures from the New World. The Trackless Sea is very wide, so Merchant League ships must stop for supplies. They would stop at Evermeet but elf place is north, too much. Only place to stop is Sundrah on Lantan but fees are very expensive. Merchant men lose money too much in Sundrah. The Merchant sailors see more than shipwreck on island. They see big harbor, also. They want to turn this harbor into new stop for ships from Waterdeep or Baldur’s Gate.”

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“What about the shipwreck?” “The Merchant League sailors see markings on the ship. The shipwreck, hero, is Balduran’s. These men they think that Balduran had much treasure on his final voyage. Maybe this true, but ship also has many artifacts. These things hold knowledge of Balduran’s fate. I wish to recover the ship’s logbook. I will solve mystery of Balduran’s final voyage. Merchant League will destroy my artifacts to get treasure. This must not happen! If you help me, I get things precious to me, you get treasure, merchant men get nothing. You will help, yes?” “Mendas, you are clearly working towards a noble end. I will help you.” “I charter boat forthwith. There is small problem, though. These men that find island, they keep the sea charts locked up. In Baldur’s Gate, there is building in Northeast of city called Counting House; to find it just go northeast from Elfsong tavern. The sea charts, they are in there. Most likely, captain of ship will have them. I don’t know such things as chart retrieval but you are hero and it is no problem for heroes. There might be small danger so I give you some gold for the charts. I will wait for you here.” “Consider it done. I will be back as soon as I am able.” “Please hurry friends, I need charts soon. Merchants prepare ships as we speak.” We also spoke to an old gnome woman we had heard about at the inn. She was not hard to find in such a small village. “Come to old Dushai, ye do,” she greeted. “Come to drink of me Gnomish knowledge.” “Certainly, old woman, if you have knowledge to impart then you have my ear.” “Ye walk quite blindly into this adventure. I know something of Balduran’s story and will share it with you. I require only a bit of gold for me research expenses.” After settling on a price, she agreed to continue. “Listen, then, and learn. As ye may know, Baldur’s Gate was named for the legendary seafaring explorer Balduran, who long ago sailed past Evermeet in search of the rich, fabled isles of Anchorome. Balduran returned with tales of strange, vast lands across the seas. He also brought back much wealth and scattered it about his sparsely settled home harbor. So Baldur’s Gate was born.” “He then set sail again for the wondrous lands he had found. Balduran never returned. Some say he sails still, finding new lands in the endless reaches of the far sea, or even that he sailed off the world and fares now among the stars. Others whisper that he met with misfortune and perished in the deeps, while still others believe that he lived to a ripe old age in his newfound home. Perhaps you will discover his fate on this island that you sail to, perhaps not. Regardless, I wish ye well on your journey and may say no more.” “Evil will always fail against courage and honor,” commented Ajantis when she had finished, apparently having decided Balduran must have faced an evil which still lurked somewhere out to sea.

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“If I’d wanted your opinion I would have asked for it,” added Xan, taking exception to what he had said. “Evil must be purged wherever it is found, even among companions,” Ajantis seriously stated, eying Xan as if waiting for him to change into some foul demon. “Have you ever wondered how hollow your convictions sound, Ajantis?” Xan turned away, sadly shaking his head. In the local inn I had also run into a dwarf. As soon as he noticed adventurers entering, he had come over to speak to us. “A merry band of heroes ye be! Have I got the adventure that’ll make ye yearn for glory! I am Hurgan Stoneblade, presently residing in Citadel Adbar.” “Well met! What adventure do you speak of?” “A glorious adventure indeed. Ye have heard of Durlag’s Tower, mayhaps?” “I’ve heard of it, yes. It’s a haunted tower to the south of here, is it not?” “It was haunted by me granda’s friend for a time. He went mad ye see. Durlag Trollkiller was a Dwarven hero of great renown. Single-handedly slew many a dragon, he did. Me granda’ was a good friend of Durlag’s. They adventured together until me granda’s untimely death several centuries ago.” “Me granda’ was slain by an evil demon but Durlag survived. Durlag kept ‘Soultaker’ that had been me granda’s. He was going to send it to me mother but he was betrayed. A sad tale, that. After Durlag built the tower, his family was replaced by doppelgangers. Durlag killed them all but was driven mad by the act. He entrapped his tower heavily and forgot about me granda’s dagger. When I heard the story as a youth, I went to retrieve the dagger meself but was driven back by Durlag’s devious traps. If ye be interested, I wish to hire ye to retrieve me granda’s dagger, ‘Soultaker,’ me birthright. The tower has been penetrated somewhat by previous adventurers. I would think that the edge has been taken off of the danger. What say you?” “I will find your dagger if I am able.” I couldn’t say if I would ever journey to the tower, and it seemed unlikely I would find the dagger if I did, but there was no harm in the promise. “Good fortune to ye then. I shall await your return here.” For a small sum we got another fisherman to return us to a place along the river close to the Coast Way. I told Xan it would be best if we split up for the time being. I suggested we might meet again when Baldur’s Gate was open. I had noticed that Xan’s constant pronouncements of doom had been wearing on the others. I myself had not been immune. Time apart would do all of us good. Ajantis watched Xan go his own way up the road, then suddenly whirled to me, and announced, “You are a most beautiful lady.” Nonplussed, I stammered some reply, to which he solemnly said, “We must always strive to be role models to the meek.” My cheeks burning, I had to wonder whether he really meant the compliment, or if he had only said what he thought should be said to “honor” me, the idiot.

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Ajantis told me he must leave and return to his order. He seemed quite surprised and put out that I would not agree to accompany him south to join his order, as though the quest I was on was of little importance. He stood in shock as we walked away, expressing his confusion. “But…but…we were a team, we were bound by…by honor! Sigh… Why is everything always so complicated?”

Cloakwood We met with Jaheira and Khalid in Beregost. An outpost of the Iron Throne, probably a mine, was located in the Cloakwood. Jaheira wanted me to penetrate the Cloakwood in search of this outpost; she had some other leads she needed to check out, but she assured me she and her husband would meet us along the way. Dynaheir and Minsc were not with them, but Jaheira told me she had found them quite useful, and in fact she was leaving immediately to meet with them at the Friendly Arm. If we were to enter another mine, a dwarf would be a useful companion. The last time I had been in Beregost, I had stopped in a small caravaneering shop. The assistant keeping the shop had told me the owner, a dwarf, was traveling but was expected back shortly. When I returned to the shop this time, the dwarf was in. “Greetings, I’m Kagain, what can I do for you?” “Um.” I wasn’t prepared for the sense of wrongness I got from Kagain. To give me time to consider, I asked a harmless question. “What kind of shop is this anyhow?” “I run an escort business. I hire mercenaries to escort caravans on route from Amn to Baldur’s Gate. Right now I’m lookin’ for some strong sword arms, and I’m willing to pay high. It seems that one of the caravans under my protection never arrived at Baldur’s Gate, and I need ta know what happened. You look like a strong group of warriors; interested in a job?” “Sure, we always need more money, tell us more.” I decided, despite my misgivings, we could use his services. “That’s good. I’ve been having a lot of problems with bandit activity lately, but they’ve always only taken the cargo and let the caravan go afterward. I’ve been catching flak from the family of some of the passengers of this caravan, after all it was the job of my mercenaries to make sure everyone got safely to Baldur’s Gate. Normally I wouldn’t give one damn about some stupid whiner, but one of the passengers was the son of Entar Silvershield, and in this part of the world, his word is law. So do you want the job or not? I’ll pay each of you 30 gold per head, plus a share of any booty, if there’s no one left alive to claim it.” “Sounds good to us.” I was willing to help him try to find his missing passenger, and hoped I could persuade him to accompany us afterward. “Hey, I’m glad you guys have some sense in your heads. I have an underling who can take care of business here while I’m gone, so let’s get a move on.”

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The Cloakwood is located north of Candlekeep and south of the mouth of the River Chionthar. It would take us more than a day just to reach it. I tried to learn more about Kagain, but beyond his obvious obsession with wealth he refused to answer my questions. I finally resorted to using my charm ability on him. His response was enlightening. “I don’t have friends, so I don’t get why you’ve suddenly come into my life. Well friend, if I had something to tell ya, I would, but I don’t.” I was somewhat reassured by his lack of hidden motives. We looked at a couple of destroyed caravans as we traveled, but Kagain declared at the second one we searched, “I’m tired of looking fer the damn caravan. We’ll never find it among all the other dead caravans we’ve been coming across. Let’s just forget about it and keep to whatever you wanna do.” Once we entered the Cloakwood, the densely spaced trees blocked out the direct sunlight, but at least our progress through the dimly lit space under the arcing boughs was facilitated by a lack of undergrowth. We came to a crude wooden bridge over a stream. As we started to cross, we were hailed from the opposite side. “Ho! Travelers, hold a moment.” A man dressed in light armor was waving at us from the far end of the bridge. “It’s refreshing to find other people in this wood. My name is Coran: thief and archer! I’ve been alone in the wilderness for far too long. I wouldn’t mind returning to the big city but I have yet to collect my bounty. I’d share the reward with the lot of you, if you would help hasten the hunt. You interested in hearing more?” “Yes, tell us more,” I agreed. “Good, I’m glad you’re smart enough to recognize opportunity when it comes knocking. The deal is this: I’ve been hired out by the mayor of Beregost to hunt down a great winged dragon that’s been plaguing the caravan routes. He’s offered 2000 gold for its head. Now before you get cold feet, let me allay your fears. The only descriptions of the beast have always mentioned its deadly barbed tail. From what I know about dragons they don’t have barbs on their tails—that’s something unique to wyverns. So all we have to do is find this wyvern’s nest and kill it. Our only worries are if it has friends over for dinner! So what is your decision, yea or nay?” “Yea.” “Very well then. We shouldn’t tarry any longer; let’s collect the heads of those soon to be sorry wyverns.” Coran indicated he thought the wyvern nest was further into the wood, which meant we could search for it while we searched for the Iron Throne’s mine. I asked about his past as we continued under the trees. Coran came from the Forest of Tethir, and while he had great memories of his time there, the serene lifestyle he felt it offered was ultimately not for him. Instead, he traveled to the city of Baldur’s Gate, dreaming of wealth, power, and respect. With nary a coin to his name he resorted to thievery, stealing only from those that he felt could spare it, and swearing that he would quit once he had enough gold to start his own business. Unfortunately, he soon grew to love his new lifestyle, looking forward to each hair-raising escape, dangerous break-in, or beautiful woman.

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Occasionally he would need to leave town for a while, disappearing into the wilderness until things had cooled down and his name was less known. His most recent retreat was apparently the result of a relationship with the female sorceress Brielbara. He sheepishly admitted to being caught in the act of seducing a female member of the Knights of the Unicorn, and being forced to flee from the violently jealous mage. Although I sensed nothing disquieting about him, I decided to be sure. I used my charm ability and asked him to tell me about himself. “What knowledge would you like from me? I could tell you about the beautiful forests of Tethir, or the many gorgeous damsels that have fallen for my charms. I have studied up on the wyverns that prey upon the area. They have wicked barbs upon their tails, which they use to poison their victims. They are cruel beasts that enjoy inflicting suffering upon their prey. I really have not much more to say.” It didn’t take Coran long to make his move on one member of the party. “You’ve been dominating my thoughts recently Safana. It’s distracting my work.” “You have about as much appeal as a rutting Owlbear,” was her rejoinder. Safana seemed to prefer that she do the pursuing. “Safana, you are full of such subtle wit and charm.” Coran wasn’t about to give up, either. I was glad Coran hadn’t decided to make his comments to me. Well, mostly glad. I actually wasn’t sure how I would have responded if he had complimented me, not that it seemed likely that anyone ever would. The next day we continued west through the forest. I thought we must have been getting near to the coast, abutting the Sea of Swords. As we walked, Coran returned to his interest in Safana. “Sometimes Safana, I find myself attracted to you, despite your shallow spiteful demeanor.” “I assume, Coran,” she replied, “that you think your elven charms are considerable. Let me enlighten you: they aren’t.” “If you weren’t such a self serving wench…I don’t think I’d find you half as attractive.” “You think I’d surrender myself to the likes of you, that’s a laugh.” “Admit it Safana, you sometimes find me to your liking.” “I might find you attractive, Coran, if you weren’t so irritating.” “Ya dolt, shut yer trap before it gets you into trouble,” Kagain spoke up to Coran at the same time. Coran rounded on him. “I don’t appreciate your humor.” The next day Branwen told me she was striking out on her own. She had a straightforward approach to problems, which usually involved a hefty swing of her warhammer, and had become increasingly upset with my decisions.

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That night Safana disappeared, taking the party’s money with her. Greed tended to overrule her common sense; I think it likely with Kivan and Coran in the party I would have been able to track her down, but I felt it more important to continue the search for the Iron Throne mine. Anyway, Safana only took our traveling funds. Jaheira held the bulk of our money. Late that day we met up with Jaheira, Khalid, Dynaheir and Minsc. Jaheira wasn’t too unhappy that Branwen had left. She also had always distrusted Safana. She must have been in a good mood, because she wasn’t too pointed in reminding me of this. Jaheira wasn’t impressed by the new members I had picked up, either. Sour Kagain was admittedly difficult for anyone to like, while Coran’s attempt to compliment Jaheira’s looks did not go down well. After talking it over with Jaheira, we decided to split the people we had. Kivan would take Minsc and Dynaheir and scout to the east and south of our current location. The remainder, myself, Imoen, Jaheira, Khalid, Coran, and Kagain would head north-east until we got close to the Chionthar River, then head east, paralleling it. We had split up and gone a short distance when a druid hailed us. “You there! I command you to stop, so that I might parley with you a moment.” “Who are you? What is it that you want with us?” I asked. “My name is Laskal, and I am the protector of the Cloakwood. I would ask you a question before I take my leave of you. I have a message for those that serve the Iron Throne. Would you be a representative of that organization?” “We have no connection to that evil group. We are sworn enemies of the Iron Throne.” “Mmmmm. An enemy of an enemy is a friend. My earlier question was just a test. I am glad to know that you also oppose this organization. They have been a blight on these woods ever since they re-opened the ancient dwarven iron mine. Well, I am glad to know you. The Iron Throne’s fort is located to the east.” Laskal and Jaheira talked for a little while. Although not personally acquainted, their druidic beliefs formed a common bond. When Jaheira had finished talking to him, she told us it should take about two days to reach the Iron Throne outpost. She also said we could expect some difficulties getting there, although she didn’t elaborate. The next day we ran into one of the difficulties. A druid stopped us, but his reaction was quite different from Laskal’s. “You cannot hide from judgment while within the sight of a Shadow Druid! All who claim membership in traditional druidic orders must contend with our wrath, as will all that defile nature. I have identified Jaheira among you; no doubt she has converted you to her fantastical views wherein people live alongside nature in ‘harmony.’ Such views are weak, and must be purged! You have consorted with enemies of the Shadow Druids, and death shall be the penalty!”

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After we had killed him we continued onwards. We had no choice but to enter the territory of these Shadow Druids. Nearby was a circle of stones. Another Shadow Druid was there as well. “I am Faldorn,” she announced. Although she eyed Jaheira, at least she didn’t immediately attack. “I have been looking for those who would fight for the sanctity of this forest. Evil men have been defiling the woodlands with smoke and waste, all in a futile quest for the metal, iron. Would you join me in my task? I would destroy these men of the ‘Iron Throne.’ Come with me, they dwell to the east within a fort.” “Sure, we’ll help you,” I said. I hoped Faldorn’s presence would prevent further Shadow Druid attacks. I also had a faint hope she and Jaheira would be able to ignore their differences in the common struggle against the Iron Throne. “You will help me!?” Faldorn was surprised anyone would assist her. “Let us find the men who foul our forests. Quickly! Their punishment must be swift. We must travel east to their fort.” I asked her about her past. Faldorn said she was the child of a Black Raven Uthgardt woman. As an infant she was given over to an enclave of Shadow Druids as an offering, and was thereafter raised according to their beliefs. A splinter group of the main druidic order, Shadow Druids engage in a very aggressive protection of nature, often relying on violence to achieve their aims. Faldorn showed great promise as she approached adulthood, and the order decided to send her to the Sword Coast to test her devotion to their ideals. Her ongoing mission was to use any means available to stop the despoiling of nature, no matter the risk or the cost to her life (or apparently any other). We did not go far before encountering another Shadow Druid. He paused to briefly speak with us. “Faldorn travels with you, and so you shall live to see the glory of tomorrow’s sunrise. If she can stand your presence, then so shall I. Perhaps you even share her Shadow Druid temperament. If so, you will want to know this: there is a fool in a cave to the northwest that dares to enslave the animals of this wood for his petty tasks. I shall give Faldorn the honor of feeding him to his own captives.” Faldorn was anxious to immediately check this out. Jaheira was as well, although she was more cautious, preferring to see for herself before making a judgment. Faldorn did not like her attitude, making a comment to her. “You dilute our order with your compassionate attitude.” As we walked, Jaheira made a point of loudly talking to Khalid, expounding her point of view. Not to be outdone, Faldorn talked to Coran, just as loudly criticizing what Jaheira had to say. This did not go on for long before Faldorn directly commented to Jaheira. “You are a fool, Jaheira, to think that man can live with nature and not destroy it.” “Careful,” Jaheira replied. “Ground tongue makes excellent fertilizer, especially with what you’re spewing.”

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By this time, we had reached the cave that had been mentioned to us. I roughly suggested that Faldorn and Jaheira should cease their bickering, since we had enough to worry about as it was. When we entered the cave we found a man dressed in worn leather armor; behind him were several young wyverns. Wyverns are strange beasts, with wings, two legs, reptilian scales and a poisonous stinger on the end of their long tails. “Move along friends,” said the man, “nothing to see here. Just a humble woodsman doing a little spelunking.” His rakish attire, complete with plumed cap, did not fit his professed profession. It also did not explain the presence of the wyverns. “This is an odd place to meet a woodsman,” I noted. “Are you not afraid of those baby wyverns behind you?” “You just don’t know the subtleties of wood and wood-related activities. These creatures are docile and…and it is worth the risk. Um…even the darkest of caves can be a rewarding experience for the woodsman that knows how to handle himself. Why… um…subterranean trees can yield the best material for carving… ah…ornamental… things.” “Subterranean trees? Are you quite sure you know what you’re talking about?” “Certainly! Have I given cause for you to doubt me? Of course not! Everything is just as it should be. There is nothing untoward about me or my wyver... I mean, there is nothing untoward about these wyverns. Are you implying something?” “Do your actions not seem odd to you?” “Um…not at all. It is not uncommon for…for a woodsman to seek the comfort of natural caverns and…and…oh to blazes with it! I can tell by your questions that you suspect me of lying and I tire of this ruse! No, I am not a simple woodsman! I am training these beasts to serve as guards, and now that you have interrupted me I shall never have them ready for the mine. Your presence has agitated them; they will be unmanageable for days now! Perhaps…perhaps I can placate them with meat. Your meat!” I drew my sword, ignoring the man as much as possible in order to finish the wyverns before they had a chance to drive their stings home into anyone. I was surprised to find a wolf fighting alongside me. The young wyverns were not too difficult to handle; the man as well proved better at training than fighting. At the end of the combat, I was even more surprised when the wolf transformed into Faldorn. Shadow Druids had capabilities I hadn’t expected. Coran informed me these were not suitable wyverns to fulfill his quest, since the bounty was only on a full-grown beast. As we were talking, Faldorn interrupted our conversation. “I am glad to adventure with one who respects our Oak Father’s kingdom,” she said to Coran. “I accept your compliments,” was his simple reply. We had not gone far from the cave when Faldorn decided to continue her earlier argument. “Jaheira, your choice of a mate suits your weakling nature.”

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“Your honesty is refreshing,” stated Khalid in his understated manner, “but lace it well with tact.” “You demonstrate your own pettiness,” Jaheira pointed out. “It saves me the trouble, so I take no offense.” “One day, woman,” Faldorn scornfully said, “you and I will settle our differences.” I was determined that day was not to be today. I informed Faldorn her presence was no longer welcome in the party. We pushed onward. Everyone was tired, but I wanted to try to leave the section of the Cloakwood the Shadow Druids controlled. It was dusk when we ran into a dandy. “Gentlemen, gentlewomen,” he said, “may I introduce myself, I am Eldoth Kron. It is a surprise to find such beautiful people wandering these woods. All of you look rather weary, down on your times I might say. Why don’t we all rest and I’ll treat you to some refreshments, perhaps some Berduskan amber wine?” “Yes, we’re sort of thirsty right now.” The flask he produced held excellent wine. As we sat passing the flask around, I had a chance to assess Eldoth. I could discern a distinct trace of evil in him. After we had all had a chance to sample his tipple he spoke. “I hope you are enjoying your liquor, it is some of the best you can find. All of you are probably wondering why I’m being so generous, ‘obviously not from the kindness of his heart’ you think. Well in a way I am. You look like the type to be on the outlook for ways to improve the quality of your life. Well, I have a proposal that could help you in that endeavor. You see, there’s a girl, my lover in fact, who desires to escape her father and live on her own. Her father is Entar Silvershield, one of the Dukes of Baldur’s Gate. This, of course, makes her desires more difficult than that of the average city girl. However, with your assistance we could help her escape the tyrannical clutches of Entar. Here’s the punch line: since Entar’s going to be hunting us anyway we can blackmail him for hordes of cash and not worry about our captive escaping. After all, we’re doing it all for the sake of Skie. Now we needn’t go about this right away, in fact I’ll help you with whatever you’re doing until you decide to head up to Baldur’s Gate. Just think of it as one favor deserving another.” “Are you always this slimy, or is this one of your better days?” I replied. “Go find someone else to help in your worthless schemes.” At least it had been refreshing to meet someone who made no effort to hide his evil intent. “You’re missing the opportunity of your life.” He shook his head in mock regret, reclaimed his flask, and departed. The next day we found a large cave, inside of which were two adult wyverns. These beasts proved much more challenging than the younglings we had faced before. It was fortunate I had purchased several magical potions sovereign against poisons, since the venom of a wyvern is pernicious, rapidly draining one’s vitality until the victim is left prostrate. Even so, we required the remainder of the day to rest and recover from our wounds. After the finish of our adventure in the Cloakwood, we were able to deliver the head of one of the wyverns we killed to the Lathander priest Keldath Ormlyr in Beregost.

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Coran, as promised, shared the reward among those party members who had been present at the kill.

Cloakwood Mine The next day we found the Iron Throne’s mine. The above ground portion resembled what I have been told is the motte and bailey form of castle. Their installation consisted of two earthen mounds, surrounded by a moat. Each mound had a wooden palisade about its base. The only entry over the moat entered the lower mound, and within its walls were a small stable, barracks and workshop. At the top of the upper mound was the mine entrance. We determined all of this by the simple expedient of circling around the installation. The entrance to the lower mound was a wooden bridge over the moat. After Imoen sneaked closer for a better look, she reported that the gate at the far end of the bridge was thrown open, and only two guards were visible. After consulting with Jaheira, I decided a frontal attack would be best. We simply charged across the bridge. The brief time it took to overwhelm the two guards allowed the assembly of a more formidable group near the entry to the upper mound. Two fighters and two mages awaited us. “Draw your daggers and spells and lets have at ‘er!” yelled one of the fighters. “You’ve crossed our employers and this is as far as you’re going to go my friend. Should’ve known that lazy bounty hunting rabble wouldn’t get the job done. Never settle for second best, I always say!” “I don’t suppose you would care to talk this over?” A forlorn hope, I knew. “There’s no need for bloodshed.” “No need for bloodshed? There’s an incredible need for bloodshed! We’ve been looking forward to it all day! You fight very well, so we are here to stop you. You don’t think they call us in to squash bugs, do you?” Despite one of the mages becoming temporarily invisible, most of my companions were by this time old hands at facing bounty hunters. We concentrated on distracting and removing the mages first, then handling the fighters. We suffered injuries, but nothing that would prevent anyone from carrying on after a little magical healing from Jaheira. On one of our opponents was a scroll. We have need of your services yet again, Drasus. We are expecting an incursion at our mine location in the Cloakwood. You are to accompany Davaeorn to the site and prevent entry or assault by anyone that is foolish enough to challenge you. Your standard fee shall be doubled in this instance. If all goes well you should look forward to more of the same. Reiltar

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We were forced to kill a few more guards before we entered the underground portion of the mine. There we found the slaves the Iron Throne was using to mine ore. We talked to a slave named Andarsson. “There are two reasons I pound this pick against these rocks,” he said. “Do you wish to hear them?” “Yes, I would.” “First, because I imagine this rock to be my captor’s skull. Second, because the meager spark that leaps from my attempt is all the light I’ll ever know again. If you were a new slave like I once was, you shall learn these simple truths soon enough.” We encountered several guards, although I was anxious to get to the lower levels as quickly as possible, to try to remove the main guard force before they were alerted. Kagain was useful in this regard, as he had an uncanny ability to tell which mineshafts led downwards, and to keep track of where we were in the maze of passages. An encounter with one guard started comically, but ended tragically because of Kagain. “So, who are you guys?” asked the guard when he saw us. “Ye here to buy some iron or somethin’. Ya know, while yer here maybe ya should give me some advice. Me wife’s been complaining lately, mostly about our late-night life. Ya see, with all the stress and trouble lately, it’s taken a little starch out of my maypole, if ye get me meaning.” “Well, you could get some more fresh air, it might be the fumes down here in the mines,” I suggested. “Hey wait a second, I recognize the bunch of you now. You’re the guys who’ve been causing all the trouble lately. Surrender right now!” My preference would have been to call for his surrender and tie him up, but Kagain was quick with his ax, and killed him outright. Another slave, Phaersis, had a tale of more immediate interest. “Psst—there be a plug somewhere that seals this mine from the river’s torrent. Find it and maybe you can render this hell no more than a watery memory of its former self.” “Where is this plug you speak of?” “I know not, only that Davaeorn is said to have the key upon his person at all times.” This plug, if it existed, promised a way of shutting down the mining operation permanently. Kagain claimed he could sense the rushing waters of the river. I don’t know if this is true, but he led us to the location of the plug in a very short time. When I questioned a nearby slave about the plug he was very helpful. “If you set me free sirs, I can tell you how to bring this mine crashing down around the heads of these fat headed slavers.” “We’ll set you free, now tell us what you know.” “Well see, here’s how it is. The way to bamboozle these ninnies is real easy. Right here beside me is a steel plug that stoppers up the river on the surface. If you were to release that, then the whole mine would be drowned. Only the master of the mines has the

93 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast key to open the plug and he’s a real mean cus. If you were to bring the key to me, I could use it to flood the mine.” “How do you know to operate this key?” “There’s a dwarf on the second level of the mines. His name’s Yeslick, and he’s the last surviving dwarf of the clan that used to live here. Under threat of death, he designed the plug for the master of the mines. I talked with him last time I was in the cells for bad behavior.” “Okay, we’ll try and find this key.” “Good! If you haven’t already been down to the lower levels, try to find a man named Rill. He’s a good friend of mine, and should be able to come up with a plan on how to get all of the slaves to safety. I’ll see you later then, and try not to get killed.” We penetrated deeper into the mine. Another slave stopped us as we continued. “What’s going on? You’re not our captors…” “No, we’re not. Make your way to the surface and flee while there’s still time. We’ll take care of the remaining guards down here.” If we had to find every slave ourselves before letting in the river it could take a long time. I hoped this Rill, if we found him, would be able to do that for me. “I thank you, stranger, with every ounce of strength that is left in me. I haven’t seen the light of day for well nigh a year.” Lower down in the mine, rather than roughly shaped tunnels, we found corridors of well-dressed stone. This was where the bulk of the Iron Throne guards were to be found. Near to where we entered this section was a line of several cells. The mine owners had neatly gathered everyone I wanted to find here. Almost the first cell we passed held the slave Rill. “You there, wait!” he called to me when I was about to move on to another cell. “Tell me I’m right. Aren’t you the mercenaries who’ve been causing the Iron Throne so much trouble?” “Yes, we are. How did you come by this information, you look to be one of the Throne’s slaves?” “Good! My name is Rill, and I’m the de facto leader of the slaves here beneath the Cloakwood. I heard about you, because I’m always careful to listen to what the Black Talons talk about. It seems that the Iron Throne has placed a large price on the head of someone named Rolanna, which would be you, I assume. Enough introductions, we don’t have much time. I need 100 gold. The captain of the Black Talons on the first floor is not known for his loyalty to the Throne. If you give me the money, I’m sure I could bribe him to look the other way, while I escape with the rest of the slaves. After all, most of the Talons are going to be preoccupied with you. Well, how about it?” “Here, take the gold you need, and get yourself and the others away from here as soon as possible.”

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“Thank you! Thank you so much. I wish you well, and hope that you can bring an end to this stinking operation.” In a separate cell, behind another locked door, we found the dwarf that had been mentioned. “Aye, who’s there now? More smithing, or did ye burrow into another river?” he greeted us before realizing we were not his captors. “Oh a fine sight are you, whoever you are! Sick to death of bandits I am! I have been cooped up the longest time, but if you’ve a spare mace I’d gladly swing it for yer cause. I can do things cleric wise as well, so I’m mind as well as muscle. By Clangeddin, a chance to right past wrongs! Can I join you?” “All help is welcome. We’ve much to overcome.” “That you have, and none would know better than I. These are my mines that the blasted Iron Throne has stolen. Well, they were my clan’s home 125 years ago. Curse me for a fool, I trusted them! Years ago that blasted Rieltar gave me a good trade smithing for the Throne, and then I go and tell him about my old home! About how my clan had the richest iron mine on any coast, and how almost all were killed when we breached a riverbank. Lost most my kin in that flood. Those of us that survived couldn’t bear to go back down. It was a giant watery tomb, and we left it the way she stood. So I go and tell this to my ‘friend’ Rieltar, and he has me chained up! He tortures the location outta me, and now this graveyard feeds the Iron Throne as they bleed the coast dry. If you want to cripple their plans, help me flood these accursed mines once more! They plugged the breach, but knowing hands can loose the flow! We can drown these black-hearted rats in the very mine they’ve stolen! Here be the way!” I introduced Yeslick to the other members of the party. Kagain took an instant dislike to him, muttering, “If I had a copper for every moron I’ve run across, I could buy Baldur’s Gate.” “My father was a miner. And my mother was a miner before him,” Yeslick replied to Kagain. We killed more than a dozen guards on this level, including a mage, before finding stairs leading further downward. I asked Yeslick how he ended up in this situation. He told me he was once a member of the dwarven clan Orothiar. For generations they used the iron mine in the center of Cloakwood as their home, but almost a century ago catastrophe struck. As skilled as they are underground, dwarves occasionally make mistakes. One such incident cost Yeslick’s clan dearly. They breached an underground river and the resulting flood claimed nearly all of the clan. Yeslick was one of the few survivors, and made his way to Sembia to start a new life. There he made the acquaintance of Rieltar, a member of the Iron Throne, and was hired as a personal smith. They became friends, and eventually Yeslick told of his past. This proved to be his undoing, as Rieltar used this information to formulate a plan to expand the Iron Throne power base in the Sword Coast. Rieltar betrayed his supposed friend and forced him to reveal the location of the mines. Yeslick had been imprisoned ever since so as not to reveal the site to others.

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Just to be sure of Yeslick, when we stopped for a short rest I used my charm ability, asking him again what had happened to him. “I’ve been in prison for a considerable time. I really don’t know what’s been happening on the surface. All I can tell you is this: whatever those Iron Throne crooks are up to, it’s not good, not good at all.” I felt guilty over having doubted him, but by now I was so used to charming others to get information that it was almost an automatic reflex. On the next level down, we faced more guards, mainly hobgoblins. The Iron Throne had controlled the mine long enough to convert the rooms carefully delved by the dwarves to their own uses, even including a shrine to Cyric. When we found the shrine, Kagain contemptuously commented on anyone foolish enough to worship any god. This was too much for Yeslick. “‘Twould be good if you tithed a few coins now and then. The favor of gods is worth a few gold.” “Yeslick, shut your lousy mouth and git outta my face.” “I’ve seen enough greed and evil! Change your ways, lest enemies we be!” “You’re an imbecile Yeslick. If you piss me off one more time I’m going to rip yer head off.” I calmed down the both of them as best as I could, but I was sure another explosion would eventually happen. The next level down was, according to Yeslick, the lowest. This must be where we would find Davaeorn. We had to kill a guard when we entered the level, but all else was quiet. Suspicious, Imoen took the lead. She and Coran checked for traps as we advanced down a corridor leading away from the steps. Imoen’s intuition was rewarded, as she found several traps blocking our progress. As she and Coran worked on them, Davaeorn appeared at the far end of the corridor. “Why have you come?” he asked. “Is it to steal my riches or perhaps you seek to righteously punish me for my affront to your morality. It matters little, for you will do neither. Before I dispose of you in some horribly gruesome manner perhaps I should introduce myself. I am known as Davaeorn; I would ask you for your names but I care little to become acquainted with the dead.” I was forced to rush forward to attempt to deal with him, despite the traps. Triggering the traps caused several battle horrors, powerful undead warriors, to appear. Davaeorn himself was a skilled mage. He had memorized numerous transport spells, so that just as I got within sword’s reach of him he disappeared, reappearing behind the party. After several frustrating cycles of this, everyone was badly injured by the battle horrors and Davaeorn’s fire spells. I finally got close enough to deliver several good blows, which was enough to finish Davaeorn. Then the battle horrors had to be dealt with. The others had mainly been handling them by running away from the slow creatures. It was left to me and Kagain to actually destroy them, a difficult task that left me with so many bleeding wounds I was surprised to still be alive.

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After some aid from Jaheira I was ready to lead the search of this level. In a small room that served as a library, we found a young mage hiding. He fearfully addressed us after we found him. “You…you killed Davaeorn? Oh…please don’t kill me! Please, oh please, oh please! I’m just his apprentice, I swear! I don’t know anything! OK I know a little, but I was only his student! Honest! I can…I can help you! Yeah, I can give you information! Ask me something! Go on, ask me anything!” “Who are you? What was your role here?” I sensed evil from him, but I was sick of killing for one day. He might know something of use, at least. I was glad Kagain hadn’t been the one to find him, since he would not have hesitated to end his life. “I told you, I’m just Davaeorn’s apprentice! I studied under him, and that’s it! I didn’t know anything about anything! Well, I know a little, but just ask and I’ll tell you!” “What was the purpose of this installation?” “The mine? Um…I…I think they were going to try and look like the saviors of the day, riding in with their stores of iron to equip the troops, or something like that. With the bandit raids and the rumors about Amn, the Iron Throne figured that the Dukes of Baldur’s Gate would think they needed arms and ore quickly in case of Amnish attack. They…they figured they could get exorbitant prices, or better yet, sanctions against competitors and an easing of trade laws for themselves only. A quick way to install themselves as an underground power on the coast. That’s all I know about it, I swear!” “Who was Davaeorn’s superior? Who really gives the orders around here?” “I don’t know! I swear it! All I can say is that the regional leaders of the Iron Throne placed Davaeorn here! There are three of them, I think, but I don’t know their names! Davaeorn was getting orders from someone else too, he complained about it a lot, but he never said a name or anything to me! Honest! The main building for the Iron Throne is in Baldur’s Gate, somewhere in the south west of the city, but I have never been there! I tell you true! Can I please go?” “Get out of my sight weakling!” “Oh thank you thank you thank you! I promise not to get involved with people like this again, no matter how good the fringe benefits are! Yes, I’m reasonably sure I will be careful from now on! Thank you, goodbye.” In our search we also found several letters. Davaeorn, I have received your request for extra slaves. They will be sent as soon as possible. Events go well in Baldur’s Gate. We have purchased one of the western noble estates to use as our base of operations. It is an ancient building, most likely constructed before the erection of the second wall. Its construction makes it very defensible against those who would thieve it. Remember to ask Yeslick if he enjoys his new accommodations. Rieltar.

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Alturiak, 1367

Davaeorn, Our plans go smoothly. Sarevok has arrived from our headquarters in Ordulin. He brings news from our superiors; they are pleased with our progress so far. I plan to place Sarevok as the commander of our mercenary forces in the region. He has already sent his subordinate, Tazok, to the Wood of Sharp Teeth to take command of the forces located there. Things go apace here in Baldur’s Gate. We have placed our first agent among the ranks of the Seven Suns trading coster. Rieltar. Flamerule, 1368

Davaeorn, As you have probably heard, the iron poison has begun to take affect around the coast. With the majority of iron imports being disrupted by Tazok, almost all of it comes from the tainted source in Nashkel. The Sythillisian uprising in Amn has ensured that no forces from that nation will be able to take action against our mercenary forces. However, the Flaming Fist has caught several of the Black Talon mercenaries. All of those captured have claimed allegiance with the Zhentarim and have thus shifted any suspicion away from the Iron Throne. I have sent Tranzig to work with the mercenaries in transporting the iron to your base in Cloakwood. He has brought several bags of holding so that he, alone, will make trips into Cloakwood, thereby lessening the chance that Flaming Fist trackers might find your stronghold. Rieltar. Elient, 1370 While we were searching, Yeslick took exception to Kagain’s ruthless greed in ignoring all else to find items of value, and then staring lovingly at each bit of treasure as he found it. “Friendships last when gold is long gone. Perhaps you should be a little nicer to the group.” “Yeslick, your stupid mine is what started all this trouble.” “The mines were there for anyone who looked! I’ll not be blamed for what the Throne does with ‘em!” “You’re the stupidest dwarf I’ve ever met, you’re an embarrassment to dwarves everywhere.” “You’ve sold your mores for the love of gold. All dwarves are kin, but I’ll not call you family.” “Ya lousy excuse for a dwarf, I’m gonna rip you a new arse.”

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I had to forcibly separate the two. I was sorry I had ever added Kagain to the group, and determined in the future to only face evil with the point of my blade. We had found the key to the river plug on Davaeorn’s body. When we returned to the upper levels all of the miners had already left. Yeslick used the key we had found on the plug. I was strong enough to release the sealing mechanism myself once it was unlocked. At once, water began spurting around the edges. Yeslick yelled out that although the plug had been designed to only gradually give way, we had best leave quickly. “You saved us!” greeted a former slave when we returned to the surface. “The rest of us have fled to the north toward Baldur’s Gate, but I elected to stay so as to thank all of you. Without your heroics, who knows how long we’d be working those horrible mines. I’m just glad we didn’t end up in the watery grave down there like the rest of the Iron Throne mercenaries.” As we were leaving the enclosing palisades, we met up with the other group that Jaheira had set up. Kivan and Minsc were disappointed at having missed all the fun; Dynaheir gave me a thoughtful glance after she heard the tale of what we had accomplished. I told Kagain he would no longer be traveling with us, after giving him his share of the treasure we had found. He intently counted the money he had gotten, to be sure he hadn’t been cheated. He didn’t waste time on details like saying farewell to anyone. Yeslick proved to be a more permanent addition. We stopped in Beregost before heading onward. We entered Feldepost’s Inn to stay the night. In the common room, I found Volo, spinning tales to a crowd of listeners. When he noticed my presence, he winked, and started another one. “Stranger tales I have told, but none are as fresh in my mind as this one, which is also fresh from the happening as well! It would seem that the orchestrators of the ever vexing iron shortage supplied themselves and their allies with ore mined from a secret location, and while the coast was in turmoil they built quite the power-base at the aforementioned mine. A group of heroes, for they can only be called such, lay siege to the encampment and ultimately flooded out the evil conspirators in a rushing torrent of water and justice, though not before securing the release of some several dozen enslaved workers. A serious blow, I am sure, to whatever fiendish plot is brewing in our fair land.” That night I had another unusual dream. Of blood. Not of blood on a blade or the blood on my hands, but an ichor that ran as a torrent through the Realms. A flood that poured across the fields and forests. An ocean that floated me to the world’s edge, and threatened to cascade off into the void. This blood seemed a frightening thing: a massive force that swept away all resistance. As a whole it was a monster and could not be stopped. Were it to be viewed from on high, it would seem to cover the entire world in its red-black embrace. I, however, did not have such a lofty perch. From within the deluge I could see it did not move as one, but was filled with currents, eddies, and undertows. Pockets of calm afforded breathing space, whilst violent whirlpools threatened to rend limb from limb. Ultimately it seemed undirected, and lacked a driving will, a quality I had in abundance. I

99 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast might be caught within, but sufficient determination could shape what I needed to survive. There were still options open; still choices to be made. As the tide pressed forward I steered as I wished, atop a ship called Persistence and under sails made of Resolve. A sudden and deliberate wave put an end to my course, and to the dream. It would seem that the flood did have some will, and took offense to my enjoying the ride.

Baldur’s Gate “Walking alone on the Coast Way road! How smart is this?” called out a gnome standing by the side of the road. We were approaching the bridge over the River Chionthar leading to Baldur’s Gate. I wondered at the gnome’s words, since our numbers had grown so great I thought we looked like a mercenary company. “Hey ho there fellow travelers!” yelled the gnome, trying again. “You look to be wanderers of the adventuring sort. Tell me; what direction calls you?” “Westward till dawn, if plans stay unchanged,” said someone behind me, Coran I think. “It is the same as I! Surely this lends us a familial bond of sorts. The smart move would be to travel as one, especially with the number of bandits in the area. You probably need the counterbalance of my intelligence, as well.” “I suppose there would be no harm in your joining me,” I cautiously replied. “Well I suppose I’ll be on my way then you idi…you said yes! I mean, of course I’ll come with you. My intellect and skill as a cleric will undoubtedly make your group much better than it is. Onward.” This time when we approached Baldur’s Gate the main gate was open. As it happened, the same guard was on duty who had met us the last time we had attempted entry. Surprisingly, he recognized me, and asked me to wait while he got his superior, who wished to speak to us. After a short wait the guard returned with an officer. “First off let me introduce myself; I’m Scar, second in command of the Flaming Fist. Though it is not necessary for you to reveal your names, please answer me this: are you the group that was involved in the fiasco at the Nashkel mines?” “Yes, that was us,” I admitted, not entirely happy with his description of it as a “fiasco.” “Well I’ll have to say, you’ve made quite the commotion up here in Baldur’s Gate. I can’t really put my finger on a single source, but there have been many strange happenings going on within the city. It’s been getting harder and harder for me to put trust in someone. I need outsiders to do some investigations, people with no connections to anyone within the city; would you be interested in working for me in such a capacity?” “If it pays well, sure.” “All right then; what I’m about to tell you must be held in the strictest confidence, do you understand? I need you to begin an investigation of the Seven Suns trading coster.

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The Seven Suns leadership has been acting strangely of late. They’ve been selling off valuable assets and neglecting many of their more profitable trading ventures. Considering the importance that the trading coster holds over the economy of the city, the Grand Dukes are noticeably upset. I’ve gone to talk to the coster’s head, Jhasso. He rudely rebuffed me, telling me to mind my own business. I’ve known Jhasso for many years, and this isn’t his usual behavior. I can’t start up an official investigation, as there is no real reason for doing so, that’s why I need you.” “We’re ready to go for it,” I replied, “but there’s something you need to know first: we think that the Iron Throne may be behind recent events along the coast. At the mines in Nashkel and in Cloakwood we’ve learned much about the goals and methods of the Iron Throne, and it doesn’t bode well for the future of this region.” “Well, that sheds new light on things. There’s nothing I can really do about it now, but I’ll make sure to look into it.” Scar, having blown off my information, described his task. “I want you to break into the Seven Suns compound and find out what’s wrong. Use stealth in your investigations; I don’t want this operation to cause too much fuss. The most important person to watch for is Jhasso. Once you’ve found out as much as possible, report back to me at the Flaming Fist compound. I’ll pay you 2000 gold for this favor.” “The estate is located on the south-west side of town, I wish all of you the best of luck. Remember, once you’re done at the Seven Sun’s estate, it’s imperative that you meet me at the Flaming Fist barracks, which are just west of the Seven Suns.” Despite Scar’s worries, I thought the situation was well in hand. I had restored normal production in Nashkel, greatly reduced bandit activity, and destroyed the Iron Throne operation in the Cloakwood. I was confident their plans had been effectively shattered. Granted, I still didn’t know who had killed Gorion, or why they wanted me dead, but I felt I had plenty of time to come up with a solution. Just inside the city gates we again ran into Elminster. He was wearing the same conical hat. I had to wonder if perhaps he wasn’t hiding a bald spot, for the day was windy, and only magic could be keeping it in place. “Good day to thee, young one,” he greeted me. “What a marvelous happenstance that we should again cross paths, especially in such a grand city as this. Ah, I see by thine eyes that thou’ve no time for my wry banter. ‘Tis true, our meeting was no accident, though I do honestly take pleasure in seeing thee again.” “It is good to see you again. What brings you here?” “Oh, all citizens of the Sword Coast eventually pass through Baldur’s Gate, and I knew thou wouldst as well. Forgive my continued meddling but I believe it is warranted, especially considering the pressures thou art no doubt confronting. My pestering of thee certainly pales in comparison to the influence thou’ve felt from others, including thine own self. Gorion raised thee as best he could, but ‘tis hard indeed to overcome what is bred in the bone. Much more so in this case, I would imagine.” “What do you know of Gorion?”

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“He was long my friend and we talked often, though less after he settled down with thee. He was quite the traveler in his day, though he never regretted his new role as foster father. He felt a stable childhood would better prepare thee for…well…the problems that would eventually come. He cared deeply for thee. I hope this was not lost on you.” “He was a good man, though I would prefer to walk my own path.” “I was not suggesting that thou should do otherwise. Whatever the motives, independence is always a wise course to follow. My worry is that thy lineage is harder to escape than most. Thou’ve bad blood in thee, though Gorion did what he could to teach thee well and true. Thou’ve hungry blood within thee as well, and it will not let thee go without a fight. For better or worse, what’s bred in the bone will be dealt with in time. I trust thou’ve the will to face what is within thee?” “I know little of what is to come, but I will do what is best.” “I am sure the future will be kind to thee. For now I will give thee my best wishes, and a few names that will serve thee well. Scar of the Flaming Fist is a good man, and well worth trusting. His superior, Duke Eltan, is also a good sort. Both are to be believed when they speak. I take my leave, and wish thee well.” Elminster continued on his way, exiting the city. It was nice that he was allowing me to choose my own path, but I wouldn’t have minded a little more advice. Jaheira suggested we head for the Elfsong inn, which was close by. This was to become our headquarters in the city. In the common room, as we were arranging for rooms for several weeks, a patron stopped to stare at us before speaking. “Hey ain’t you those heroes from down south. You guys did real good, wupping those bandits asses. I always wanted to be an adventurer, but ya know how things work out. Good luck to all of ya!” Gratified that someone had recognized what we were doing, I agreed with Jaheira we should all meet later that night to decide on a course of action. While waiting for the meeting, I had an interesting discussion with the owner of the Elfsong. “Good eve to you,” she greeted me. “I am Alyth, the owner and proprietor. I trust the Elfsong will fit your needs, whatever they should be. I should be wary of the clientele if I were you. Everyone is quite on edge as of late.” “Why should melancholy be so pervasive here? Is there not an ill feeling throughout the coast?” “We have lost more than the average citizen, we have lost the Lady. Often we are blessed by a strange phantom voice. It is an elvish maiden lamenting a lost love drowned at sea. Her voice is quite beautiful, and the reason I purchased this establishment in the first place. She has not uttered a note for nigh unto several tenday. Surely it is an omen of sorts, though I canna say of what. I would have thought the economic troubles of the land too paltry to affect the concerns of the dead, but matters are often more complicated than they seem. I suppose they are often simpler as well, though that truth does not support my argument quite as well. Forget I mentioned it. Enjoy your stay.”

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A little later we had our meeting. We agreed we would gather rumors from about the city. Jaheira also suggested I try to do a few good deeds so that my name would become more known to people in the city. The next morning I met Imoen, Kivan, Coran and Yeslick in the common room. I would explore the city with them as companions. Jaheira, Khalid, Dynaheir and Minsc would separately circulate about the city. The gnome we had met yesterday, whose name was Quayle, was also present, apparently having decided he should be part of my group, despite his not having been invited. As we were leaving a gnome, another gnome, not Quayle, stopped me. “Hello!” he greeted in rather a loud voice, then looked around, putting a finger to his lips. “Shh! Shh…ah…um…I mean…hello. Might I have but a moment of your…ah… time? Ooh, this is exciting isn’t it? Oh, wait…you wouldn’t think so. You’re probably used to it. Ah yes, well, um…you…you ah…oh how do I approach this? You are…ah… for hire? I mean…ah…I need a…job done. Get my intent? A…job done. Strictly hush hush, I believe you would say.” “Am I to understand that you intend me to do something I would not be proud to speak of?” I replied, curious to know what he wanted. “All I want is the acquisition of an item currently in the possession of someone else. It’s not as though it’s stealing. Well…actually it’s a lot like stealing. OK it’s stealing, but it’s only the one item and I don’t want anybody hurt.” “What’s the score my little friend?” “That’s the spirit! A little larceny never hurt anyone! Well…it won’t hurt me anyway. And to be fair, I would prefer if no one else suffered any injury during this exploit. I mean, I want you to steal something, but I want you to do it in as nice a way possible. It’s roguery on par with Danilo Thann of Waterdeep, and I’ll pay you well. 500 gold for one night’s work. It’s better than you could hope for in a year on the docks!” “You can stop trying to sell me, I’m interested.” If Jaheira wanted me to get in good with thieves, I thought, here was my chance. Of course, I didn’t stop to think how the Thieves’ Guild might view independent operators. “Just tell me what the actual job is, and why you are willing to take such a risk.” “Oh, it’s a marvelous trinket! A wondrously curious little toy from distant Lantan. What did they call it…oh yes…a ‘telescope,’ of all things. It’s a misleading name for such an interestingly crafted artifact. ‘Golden Extra-Farseer’ would have suited it’s craftsmanship so much better. There is not another like it this side of the Trackless Sea! Most gnomes have a fixation of sorts, but I don’t share the love of gems that possesses my kin. I prefer the feel of metal, and the intricacies of the mechanical. Not that I necessarily understand the function, but it’s not right for such an item to be locked away regardless! It was meant to be used and to be held by loving hands, and if those hands just happen to be mine, more the better. The tele-thingy is on display at the Hall of Wonders, and were it in the possession of anyone else it might be purchasable. No doubt you know that the Hall of Wonders is an extension of the High House, the temple to Gond. Being the god of artifice and invention his followers take to revering mechanical devices, and will not part with an original at any price. It’s not as though they make

103 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast proper use of such things! Keeping them behind locked doors where loving hands cannot explore their subtleties. The Tele-whatzit was made to be used, not worshiped! It must be in the hands of someone who can truly appreciate it! Not to be immodest, but that someone is me! I suppose I might buy a replica, but would you wish a copy of a diamond? It’s just not the same.” “That is certainly a difficult task you’ve set before me, you windy little man, but I will accept the challenge.” “Wonderful! Oh this is so bad of me! Ahem…well, I shall leave you to your preparations. It will certainly be a test of your mettle entering the Hall. I imagine an experienced roustabout such as yourself will ‘case the joint’ thoroughly, eh? Get the guards schedule down and all that? Oh, if only I could be a part of it. It’s thrilling, like the songs of legend. I’ll meet you back here once the burglary is announced. Hee hee, it’s too much fun.” I later learned his name was Brevlik. We left him in the Elfsong, still marveling at his own audacity. Imoen had suggested we stop by a nearby shop, to show me something Jaheira had mentioned. The shop was called Sorcerous Sundries. “And who might you be then?” greeted the proprietor at our entry. “Hmph? Come to check out the wares of ol’ Halbazzer? Well be quick about it! And mind you don’t get fidgety when we talk payment. You knew when you came in the door that my wares were magical; premium items demand a premium price.” Imoen was fidgeting in impatience, and so I followed her without stopping to examine any of the stock, although I promised myself I would come back for a closer look as soon as possible. Imoen led us to steps leading up to the second floor of the shop. She cast a spell, changing her features to resemble the necromancer Xzar. Imoen had become quite adept at magic; she looked exactly as I had remembered him. Unfortunately, her spell hadn’t changed her voice, but she suggested when we walked upstairs I do all the talking. As far as I knew Xzar was still dead, and wouldn’t prove to embarrassingly already have made a visit, although I couldn’t be sure because his body had disappeared. Still wondering exactly what Imoen’s surprise was, I walked upstairs. Three mages were there; they glanced at “Xzar,” then one spoke to me. “Mm…Xzar has spoken highly of you in his reports.” “Reports? What reports? Who are you?” I replied, surprised. “Has Xzar not told you? Perhaps I have spoken too soon. We are the Zhentarim and I am Xzar’s superior. He has been making regular reports to me about your party and the progress of your investigations into the iron crisis. Your work has been exemplary and of great service to our cause. Now go, purge this city of the Iron Throne’s presence. They have become more than a nuisance to us... They have become a threat.” The mage said no more. Not wishing to destroy our cover, I asked no questions, but headed back downstairs. Jaheira could only have learned about this group so quickly from her Harper friends, the ones she wouldn’t talk about. There were too many secrets within the group.

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“A fine figure like yours shouldn’t be risked in an occupation such as adventuring,” offered Coran to Imoen once we reached the ground floor. Imoen laughed off the compliment with some joke. Coran never gave up on trying the women around him, that is, except for me. After we left the shop I overhead a scrap of conversation from a passing group of nobles, “Those Iron Throne fellows are quite the secretive bunch. Sarevok, the foster son of their leader, is quite the charmer though.” That reminded me that Sarevok had been mentioned in the letters we had gotten from Davaeorn. He seemed to have been the one tasked with eliminating me, although I still couldn’t see what interest the Iron Throne would have in me. Quayle was still tagging along, although comments such as “‘Tis a wonder your brains can keep you breathing!”, “Shake a paw! C’mon, shake a paw!” or “Feel my amazing brain! Go on, touch it!” were not winning him any friends. It must have been my day for attracting the disturbed, for we hadn’t walked far before a dwarf stopped us. “Glorious Cyric has foretold of our meeting when thou wouldst join with me. ‘Tis thy duty…nay, destiny to stand by Tiax as the world kneels before him! Er…us. To this end I would travel with thee and do thy bidding. Later, however, your power shall add to mine and great Tiax will ascend to the highest office in the land. What say you? Yea or nay to the grand scheme?” “So you wish to aid me,” I repeated dubiously, “and in return…I help you… dominate the planet. Ohhhhhkay. Just let me know when you are going to ‘ascend.’” “‘Twas fated by Cyric to be so. Let us go forth and make short work of your tasks, for greater things will need attendance.” We continued on, I not having decided what to do about my two uninvited companions. Tiax suddenly declared in a loud voice, “Tiax will rule all!” “Who taught this chimp to talk?!” said Quayle in mock disbelief. “What they can’t do these days!” “Thou would’st mock me? Ye stiff-rumped foole!” “Oh yeah?! Well I’ve got more smarts in my little finger, than you’ve got in your little finger! No…wait a minute.” There was quite for a short time, until I told the others to wait outside when we got to the offices of the Merchant League. I wanted to stop by there to try and get charts covering the western ocean, to fulfill the request I had gotten in Ulgoth’s Beard. “Tiax does as ye will, but one day boom! He rules!” “Ruler of the world, hmm?” mused Quayle. “Only if chosen by virtue of an… uncluttered mind.” “Sure you be smart, but none are grander than Tiax!” “Indeed you grow ‘grander’ by the moment. Though how a fat head will help, I do not know.” “Where will your learning get you when Tiax rules? Duke of manure at best!”

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I stared at the two of them in annoyance. They both ignored me. “Tiax and his greatness shall squash you as a bug, you…you…insolent bug!” Tiax was by now waving his weapon wildly over his head. “Violence is a trademark of low intelligence!” replied Quayle, but this didn’t prevent him from also having drawn his weapon. I had had enough. I angrily yelled that if the two of them wanted to fight each other so badly they could do it elsewhere, since neither was welcome any longer near me. “Yes, yes, the all-seeing Tiax thinks that his leaving would be best.” His ego had already decided this must be his decision. “He must finalize his stratagems and consult in secret with Cyric. You shall, of course, meet the Great Tiax again, at which point I will make my grand ascension and appoint you to your rightful place as whipper of the slaves and faithless.” Quayle wasn’t so sanguine. “Please don’t leave me out here! Do you hear buzzards? I hear buzzards.” Ignoring them, I walked away. Just outside the Merchant League office two men approached me. I hoped they didn’t have more insane suggestions. “Could we have a moment of your time?” asked one. “What is it?” “First, let me introduce the two of us; I’m Marek and this is my companion, Lothander. I thought it would be nice for you to know our names, ‘cause if you don’t take our advice you’ll be seeing more of us two. I know that you’ve been taking an active interest in destroying the Iron Throne, don’t try to deny it. My companion and I are in the employ of the aforementioned Throne. We thought it would be polite to give you one last warning: stop interfering with our employer’s business. You can decide to disregard this warning, but if you do, it’ll be the last decision you ever make. See ya later.” “Make all the threats you want. We aren’t the ones with one foot in the grave. It’s anybody stupid enough to get in our way who will pay the piper.” Marek turned away, muttering “Stupid saps, they’ll never know what hit ‘em.” Shaking my head, wondering if these two were in fact crazy as well, I entered the building, leaving my companions outside. A guard moved to block my way. “Stand and hold, citizen. What business do you have with the Merchant League?” “I am here to clear my debts with the League.” Coran and Imoen had come up with a plausible story for my presence. “Debts? Of what sort?” “Tea and spices purchased in Kara-Tur.” “As you will, but I urge you to conduct your business swiftly as I have little patience for your tone.” On the upper floor I found someone who could be of help, captain Tollar Kieres.

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“Aargh, I be almost ready for the salts and who be botherin’ me now?” he greeted me in unfriendly manner. “Hail, Captain. I have been sent to inquire if there is anything else you’ll be needing before you set sail.” I hoped to get in his good graces before asking about sea charts. “Aye, ye be wit’ the League, then... A jug o’ this town’s hardest liquor would make for a fine departure, if ye’d be so kind. Old De’Tranion brews a vile swill at’ll do the trick. Ye can find the old coot at the Blushing Mermaid.” Promising to see what I could do, I took my leave. I decided to have a look at the inner city. The southern part of the city, including the Elfsong and the docks, constitutes the outer city. The northern part, separated from the south by a wall, is the inner city. We were poking around an outdoor market when a recently familiar man interrupted us. “I am Lothander, partner of the assassin Marek. I do not wish you harm.” “We’ll give you a chance. Make it quick.” I hoped he wasn’t going to make more threats. “My partner, Marek, has poisoned all of you. While you slept, he slipped a slow acting magical poison into your rations. You have about 10 days to live. Common priest spells won’t help you, only one thing can, and that’s the antidote. I can help you find it, if you help me first.” “Okay, what do you want us to do?” His nervousness lent his words an air of believability. “My problem is this: I don’t work for the Iron Throne because I wish to, but rather because I have been forced. I have been enspelled with a geas. If I do not obey everything that Marek orders of me the spell will take effect and I shall waste away. I need a way to rid myself of the spell. I know of a Diviner at the market square who may have the answers I seek, but I don’t have the money to pay him. Will you help me?” “We’ll help you, take us to this Diviner.” We followed a short distance through the outdoor market. “Step in here to the Diviner’s tent.” We entered the tent. The diviner greeted us. “You wish to hear the arcane knowledge of Haspur? It will cost you 50 gold for the answers to your questions no matter how small. Will you pay or will you leave.” “Here’s the money seer, but you better be for real.” The situation was bizarre, an assassin who not only supposedly poisoned us without our knowledge, but whose geased sidekick would only help us if we followed the maunderings of a market prophet. “I am for real. Now what is it that you wish to know? I must tell you, I only have the strength to answer a single question in a day, so be careful in what you ask.” “Who has the ability to release Lothander of his geas?”

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“Only the high priestess Jalantha Mistmyr of Umberlee has the power to remove Lothander’s geas. She can be found at the Water Queen’s house. It is difficult to see whether or not she will help you.” Lothander told us he would wait for us at the Blade and Star Inn. We went to the Umberlee temple, close to the docks. First had been my agreement in principle to help the Thieves’ Guild, now this trip. So much for my earlier pledge to avoid dealing with evil. In the temple we talked to the high priestess, Jalantha Mistmyr, explaining why we had come. Naturally, she wasn’t about to help Lothander for nothing. “I do not offer the power of my goddess to anyone. If you wish this favor you will first have to do a favor for Umberlee. The favor I ask of you is a simple one. The holy day Storm Call approaches. It will be the first time I have overseen this ceremony. To insure that my first ceremony is flawless I need an item of power. It is called the Book of Wisdom, and is possessed by the clergy of Tymora at the Temple of Tymora, called the Lady’s Hall by those who venerate the frivolous goddess. If you can get this book from me, I will do what you ask.” So it was off to the Temple of Tymora. I had personal reasons to be interested in visiting this temple. I had been considering what the paladin Ajantis had said, about my being a paladin as well. I wondered if some particular god was somehow calling me. I had been impressed by the Temple of Lathander in Beregost, but had felt no personal imperative directed at me while there. Perhaps at another temple. When we entered the Temple of Tymora, a cleric greeted us. “Welcome! Luck has seen fit to drop you in the lap of the Lady, and she shall take good care of you indeed. Those who dare are always seen in the best light, and we require but a small donation of coin for whatever you need.” The god of fortune held no attraction for me. I couldn’t see flipping a coin each time I confronted evil to see whether I should oppose it. At least they released the Book of Wisdom to us with little trouble. We returned to the Umberlee Temple, and obtained a scroll which the High Priestess assured us would dispel the geas on Lothander. Now we had to find the Blade and Stars inn. Once there, we located Lothander at the bar. “So, how did you fare?” he asked. “Do you have the cure to my geas?” “We have your cure, now where is the antidote to the poison?” “All right then, here’s my half of the antidote. Marek, my partner, possesses the other half of the antidote. You’ll find him at the Blushing Mermaid inn. I can’t help you other than that.” We found and entered the Blushing Mermaid. As we entered, an ogre, large even for his kind, got up from his table where he had been drinking beer from a vessel the size of a half tun. “Huurm. I be Larze. You be Rolanna. Don’t try deny it. You should not have come to Baldur’s Gate. You given many warning before, but you ignore them. Now you must pay. Sorry, but Larze must kill.” The interesting thing was he had addressed his remarks

108 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast to Imoen. There had been those who had mistaken us for sisters before, but this was the first time someone had actually mistaken us for one another. “Wait one moment, you big oaf,” replied Imoen, pointing her finger at him as if he was a youngster caught sneaking treats. “Why would you think that I’m Rolanna. Do I look like I could be that kind of hero? Rolanna is a juggernaut of destruction, with flaming eyes, and a roaring voice. My companions and I, we’re just normal folks.” “Huh? But you must be Rolanna. Me see picture, and it look like you. It had no fire eyes or big voice. Though pictures don’t have voices. Hmmmmm, I confused.” “Larze, my poor confused ogre. There is only one thing for you to do. You have to go back and take a closer look at the picture. I’m sure once you’ve had a second look, you’ll know what a big mistake you’ve made. Now run along, we’ll be waiting right here.” “Yes! Good idea, Larze will find picture and see for sure. You will wait here until Larze gets back.” As soon as Larze left, we went upstairs, were we found Marek. He was able to guess why we were there. “So you’ve come, I assume, to take the antidote. All you’re going to accomplish is to hasten your death, but I think that isn’t the foremost worry you have at the moment.” We killed him and took the other half of the antidote off his body. I still had some difficulty believing we had actually been poisoned, but Marek had certainly thought that was what had happened. Besides sharing the antidote among my immediate group, I returned to the Elfsong so Jaheira and the others could partake, just in case. While at the Blushing Mermaid I had also secured a bottle of De’Tranion ale. With it in hand, I returned to Captain Tollar Kieres at the Merchant League. I gave him the ale, and insisted he sample it while we discussed business. “Ah, there be the good stuff to put a sting in yer eyes: De’Tranion’s Old Baalor Ale. Cheers to the Merchant League, fer all their many kindnesses!” “Cheers to the Merchant League!” I seconded heartily. I asked him to produce charts of the Western Ocean, which he was happy to do. The ale was potent; while I examined the charts, verifying they covered the area of Ocean I needed, the captain became quite drunk. After finishing the bottle, he leaned over to me. “Aye, that’s the stuff! Be a good lad and hold these sea charts fer me. I’m feeling a bit woozy…” He sat back in his chair, no longer paying attention to me, singing, “The cabin boy, the cabin boy, that dirty little nipper…ah the sea, she calls me.” I rolled up the charts and left the Merchant League building unchallenged. I wasn’t proud of my deception, but no one had been hurt, and I was sure the League had other copies of these charts. The next day we continued exploring the city. I briefly talked to the Harbormaster, asking about the iron shortage.

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“The iron shortage, eh? Well, there’s not much to tell. With the Nashkel mines basically shut down, and bandits making it impossible to ship overland, iron’s become rare. Recently though, the Iron Throne’s been shipping in iron through their merchant fleet. It’s really strange, ‘cause their main competitors aren’t doing the same. They’re just lettin’ the Throne hog the whole market.” The results of my efforts outside the city hadn’t yet made an impact on the shortage, but I thought that would change soon. In a small tavern near the eastern gate, I noticed a woman silently sobbing to herself. When I went over to talk to her, she said, “Leave me be, will you? I wish no company now.” “Why are you saddened, M’lady?” “I fear the worst for my brother and cousin, they have been missing some months now, and I know of no one that can find them.” “Your brother and cousin? Perhaps if I knew their names I could help you.” “I thank you. Whatever you can do, I would appreciate. Their names are Shank and Carbos. Not the brightest of boys, but pure of heart. They may have fallen in with a bad lot, but I know they would never do anything wrong.” I recognized the names. They were the inept assassins who had tried to kill me in Candlekeep. I briefly explained to the woman what had happened, and that they were dead. I finished my explanation with a pious hope. “They are dead and buried. Get over your grief and move on.” “It is people like you that give people like you a bad name! Or…or something like that! Oh…I hear Shank’s gentle wit in my words. Get out! Get out!” There was nothing further I could say she would want to hear. I left. In the eastern section of the inner city, a robed woman hailed us. More specifically, she hailed a member of the party. “Coran! So you’ve come back to the city, coward. What brought you back? Are you looking for another girl to seduce with your deceitful promises? Perhaps you’d care to know that you have a daughter.” “I have a daughter? That’s…that’s ah…wonderful.” Coran didn’t appear too happy at the news. “Surprised, that your fling had its consequences? My husband was none too pleased when my daughter turned out to be a half elf. Yago went into a fury, nearly killed me in fact. If you care to remember, Yago was a mage of some power, power enough to curse our child to an early death. Little Namara won’t live to see her first birthday. He’s gloated to me that he possesses the reverse to the spell, but he won’t give it to me. Since you’re her father, Coran, you’re going to find Yago and you are going to get the reverse of the spell from him.” “Curse, what curse? Slow down and let me...”

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“Yago has been spending his nights at the Low Lantern. It’s just another despicable whorehouse disguised as something classier. Yago has been spending all of his time there since he left me. He’s rented out a room somewhere on the ship. Just find his spell book and bring it to me. I should be able to reverse the curse if I had the formula.” “All right, I’ll do this for my…um…daughter. So friends, are you with me or not, cause if you’re not I’ll have to do this alone.” “Sure, we’ll help you,” I reassured him. “When you’re finished,” said the woman, “come meet me at the Splurging Sturgeon inn. I’ll be there for the next few days.” Coran shamefacedly reminded me that the woman, Brielbara, was the reason he had left the city, where I had found him in the wilderness. There was a lesson to be learned for Coran in all this, but I didn’t think it would stick. The Low Lantern is a ship, permanently moored at a dock in the harbor, a combination whorehouse and gambling den. This was my first experience with a whorehouse, although what we saw while searching for Yago was pretty tame. We found him on the lowest deck, in a small room he must rent by the month. “What in the Nine Hells are the lot of you doing in my room?” he demanded. “We’re here for the cure to the curse you’ve placed on Brielbara’s daughter.” “So the bitch hired some adventurers to get a cure for her precious daughter. She should have sent someone who was up to the task, instead of you rabble.” After we killed him, we found his spellbook in his room. We returned to Brielbara. “Tell me, did you get the reversal for the curse?” “Yes, we have it right here.” “Thank you, thank you so very much. I owe you everything. If there is anything I can do for you, just name it.” “Just remember us for the future.” “What about you Coran? Are you planning on leaving again? Not even trying to be a father...” “I’m sorry Briel, but I just don’t have the time or inclination to care for your… I mean our child.” “Maybe someday you’ll grow a spine, elf!” We ate our midday meal at the Splurging Sturgeon. Recent experience didn’t prevent Coran from flirting with our serving wench. As we were finishing, a woman came up to the table. “You there!” She pointed at me. “I recognize your face from a—from a dream I had last night...” “Dreams speak with wisdom the waking mind can rarely fathom. Tell me your dreams, woman, and warn me of my place in them.”

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“You were a god, made of iron, and I watched you from below, so far below. You were stolid, still, unmoving, a bulwark against some raging storm and then you—and then you shattered and…and broke... Your iron flesh, it tore itself asunder and—and— and you fell to your knees, a weakened being; it was horrible, a true horror, and I woke up weeping with my husband shaking me, desperate to rouse me from my reckless slumber... Whoever you be and whatever you have come here for, beware the fates for they…they be arrayed against you.” I didn’t know what to make of this prophecy, and decided to ignore it. Although it was late in the day, I thought there was still time to finish our thiefly task, for the gnome Brevlik. I took Imoen with me to find the Hall of Wonders in the northwestern part of the city. The Temple of Gond in the city is actually two buildings. They resemble one another, both with slanted roofs supported by white stone columns, interiors free of supports to form a great hall. The High Hall of Wonders is the temple proper, while the Hall of Wonders displays mechanical inventions consecrated to Gond. Imoen and I entered the Hall of Wonders, paying the gold piece fee. We followed along behind a guide as he interpreted the displays for visitors. “Welcome all to the Hall of Wonders. Please follow, and I shall endeavor to introduce you to the majesty of Gond. I hope you had little difficulty making your way here. People are often confused by the companion building across the lane, the High Hall of Wonders. It is the consecrated temple to Gond, our worship center on the Sword Coast, and parent temple to the Hall here. Separated to ensure that tourism does not disrupt the sanctity of our reverence, the two structures are nevertheless linked by a bridge, that they might be guarded as one.” The guide stopped in front of an iron contraption, the size of a cart. I couldn’t make any sense of the thing’s gears and wheels. “Here is a wondrous item, forged from the mind of one of our respected gnomish brethren. Known as a Steam Dragon, it is a remarkable, if somewhat noisy means of moving large objects. The fire in its belly powers mighty gears that can be affixed to belts and pulleys, hauling loads that would require dozens of strong backs. Our own harbor employs such items on a grand scale, relieving ships of their cargo in a matter of moments. A mite detrimental to the jobs of several longshoremen when installed, it has greatly improved the health of the few remaining.” The guide next stopped in front of a cylinder with an attached seat. “Another marvel of ingenuity, the Pump of Gond. By standing astride the seat one is able to move water as a mill wheel might, with only the power of the legs. Excellent for watering fields, or draining a flooded home. Hard work to ride for long, it does spare the back and neck from bearing the weight of buckets.” The next exhibit was a large brass tank, topped by a burning light. “Bringing light where is naught but darkness, the Everlight. The natural law that all must fall, helps feed continuous oil to a system of lamp lights, eliminating bothersome refueling for weeks at a time. This is the enormous tank that holds the oil in reserve.

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None need be stranded in the night again, as is inevitable with the standard illumination. Have you ever known the oil to run out during the daytime?” The guide halted in front of an odd device. It was composed of several cylinders, each butted end to end, the cylinders varying smoothly in diameter from one end to the other. The largest cylinder was, in diameter, as large as my balled fist. The whole contraption was about as long as my arm. “Here be an amazement if ever there was one. Without question you have all seen a mariners standard spyglass? That crude device what roughs out a coastline? It is but a shadow of this work of art from faraway Lantan. We are informed that it was labeled a ‘tell-a-scope’ or some such when initially assembled, but we have taken to calling it a Farseer. A much more elegant name for its function and craftsmanship. The faces of the stars themselves are visible with its aid, and one is liable to run out of earth before running out of sight. Our local craftsmen have not been able to recapture Gond’s original inspiration, and the inner workings remain a detailed mystery. Thus, while copies of its beauty are available, they function no better than the spyglass I mentioned.” This must be the item Brevlik wanted. Imoen whispered to me that we would have to break into the hall at night if we wanted to snatch the device. We left the tour, stopping by the main temple to Gond next door. “Welcome to the High Hall of Wonders,” greeted a priest of Gond. “I hope you have come to venerate Gond, the Inspiration Divine! If there is anything you need of me, all you need but do is ask. Otherwise you are free to worship the Wonderbringer to your hearts content.” As we turned away, he called out, “Gond’s greatest gift was the ability to invent.” I stood silently in the hall for a time, but felt no special touch from the god. This was not surprising. I had little interest in Gond’s mechanistic interpretation of the world. Imoen and I decided to wait until full dark fell, and then break into the Hall of Wonders. We idled the time in the small park surrounding the buildings dedicated to Gond. When foot traffic had decreased sufficiently, we moved towards the main door of the hall. As we drew nearer, I was surprised to hear a voice. “Blast and bother! These locks have always given me trouble! Trouble they are!” It was hard to see, but I thought a young girl was trying to enter. One of the double doors opened slightly, and the figure slipped into the building. We approached, entering the building through the unlocked door. Inside, we walked down a flight of steps to the main exhibit floor. There was a little more light here from magical globes lining the walls. I could now see the thief was a halfling, not a lass, but not any older than I was, either. My armor rattled as I took the last step onto the main floor, and she whirled, startled. “Oh! Scared me you did! I suppose I’m caught then? Peacefully I’ll go, I’m not much for fighting... Wait a minute…Holy Leapin’ Lavender Lizards! You’re not the guard! You’re...you’re burglaring just like me! Now this is exciting! We should…we should work together! Yeah! I could use the help…uh…I mean, we could just help each

113 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast other a little bit. Just for this one heist, you keep watch while I point out the good stuff. You can even keep most of it! I got a good tip on where to be looking! Whatcha say?” “That is a good idea. I’ll keep watch and help you.” The comments of this unusual thief had caused me to smile. She reminded me of Imoen when she was younger. “Double good and done! Oh, it’ll be great fun having someone around to talk to! I don’t meet many nice people in this trade. Just because we steal doesn’t mean we have to be bad. Mostly I’m just curious what people have. Here, I’ll point out a few things and then we can get to sneakin.’ He he, such fun!” When I asked, she told us her name, which was Alora. I followed along after the young halfling as she moved from one exhibit to another, fingering them and giggling to herself. When we reached the farseer exhibit I nodded to Imoen, who removed the segmented tube. Alora watched, hand on hips, then spoke to me. “Well if your gonna be puppy-doggin after me all night, maybe we should work together. I know this place pretty good; know a few secrets. Could be fun. What say you? Wanna keep watch while I scout for pretties?” “Certainly. Do what you must while I will keep watch.” “Pretty good takin’s with none too many bruises. We do pretty good for just meeting! How about we do this again, like all the time? Wanna join up permanent?” “A splendid idea! Welcome aboard.” “Friends we are, and nice ones too! One for all and things like that! Fun for all of us, I just know it!” The three of us returned to the Elfsong, Alora gaily chattering about her past the whole way. She was originally from Iriaebor. As a child she was cute, outgoing, and dangerously curious, causing no end of trouble for her parents. They tried to curb her lunatic behavior, and encouraged her to be content with home and hearth like other halflings. Alora found this unbearably stifling, and left to explore the world. She quickly found herself falling into all sorts of trouble, going to the wrong places and angering the wrong sorts of people. Eventually she found herself in the city of Baldur’s Gate, and it was there that she discovered her future profession: thievery. Wealth was never her chief concern; it was just that too many interesting things are behind locked doors. Her unassuming temperament made it easy for her to hoodwink the authorities, and her sweet nature had saved her from a jail cell numerous times. When she found out Imoen could cast magical spells, she commented, “So you’re a mage? I knew a mage once but he was pretty stuffy. You’re not like that.” Since it was late, we turned in for the night once we reached the Elfsong. The next morning, we ate a late meal, introducing Alora to such others of the group that were around at that hour. As we were finishing, the gnome Brevlik came into the common room, grinning in glee. Imoen hoisted the wrapped package that had been at her feet into view, since I had anticipated Brevlik might have heard of our feat and come calling. Brevlik in response held up a bag obviously well weighted with coin.

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“All that glitters is not gold, but all that’s gold most certainly glitters.” He waved the bag suggestively. Imoen got up to hand him the wrapped “farseer.” “Hello again my roguish compatriots!” Brevlik greeted the entire table. “I heard this morning that there was a mysterious break-in at the Hall of Wonders. It’s said that the crafty burglars were in like ghosts and gone before the guard even had a chance to yell halt. Ooh, it’s like an adventure tale starring you and me! You are well worth your pay my friends, well worth it! Here is your 500 gold and a beautiful little trinket from my own personal collection. It’s a sorrow to part with it, but this more than makes up. Goodbye and good fortune be on you.” A little later Jaheira and Khalid stopped by the Elfsong. She suggested we meet upstairs in one of our rooms to share the latest news. Besides Jaheira, Khalid, Imoen, and myself, also present were Alora (Jaheira frowned when she noticed I had included my new companion), Coran, Kivan and Yeslick. Dynaheir and Minsc had made a trip outside the city, to contact Dynaheir’s superiors. Jaheira was furious that we had stolen the farseer for Brevlik, insisting that such independent action outside the Thieves Guild could ruin the contacts she already had with them. She has a sharp tongue when she gets angry, and she didn’t spare me, commenting that “I don’t like the way this group is turning out. Better leadership might help.” I, in turn, was angry with Jaheira. To me, the theft of the farseer was worthwhile. It was better out in the world, where others might see it and copy it, than as a sterile offering to Gond. It didn’t help when Alora tried to intervene between the two of us. “I don’t think you’re happy enough! I’ll teach you to be happy!” When Alora saw that she was being ignored, she added, “I’ve heard that if you go too long without smiling, your face will crack!” Jaheira didn’t appreciate the interruption, loudly commenting that she wished someone would remove the child from the room. Alora screwed her eyes shut, chanting, “Happy happy joy joy, happy happy joy joy.” It was obvious nothing of importance was going to be accomplished today. I suggested that I take Imoen, Kivan, Coran and Yeslick and continue poking about the city. I also promised to take charge of Alora. Alora I gave the task of gathering rumors in the city, a job for which I thought her well suited. With the others, I set out to explore those portions of Baldur’s Gate I hadn’t visited up to now. We stopped in several taverns, gathering rumors. In one we heard of the mage Ragefast, that he was keeping his own personal nymph, presumably for enjoyment of her physical pleasures. In another tavern we found more certain evidence of a mage; Ramazith had left not long before we arrived, and having taken offense at some remark had summoned several slimes. The slimes were still present, which we dispatched. We could do nothing for those already killed by the creatures. The next day I visited the temple to Helm in the northern part of the city. A priest greeted us when we entered.

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“Welcome to The Watchful Shield. Our devotion to He of the Unsleeping Eye is unswerving. Please, allow us to shield and protect you under the ceaseless gaze of Helm.” Although I meditated in the temple for a time, I felt nothing special. Helm seemed ill suited for me anyway. I saw my role in the world as one of action, seeking out evil and vanquishing it, not standing by as some sort of mystical guardian. In the streets nearby was a small shrine to Ilmater. A beggar was sheltering inside, but no priest was present, I imagine being too busy ministering to the poor. The situation fired my imagination; I could see myself as a champion of the downtrodden and powerless. But I received no special sign from Ilmater, and my ego was deflated. I would just have to continue as best I could, hoping whatever power had granted me such gifts as I possessed would be pleased with the results at the end of my life. We walked to the north, where a wall surrounded a noble’s estate. As we stared, wondering who lived there, a voice interrupted us. “Do you remember our agreement? You had agreed to help me kidnap Skie from the estate of Entar Silvershield. Well, I think this is the perfect opportunity.” Standing next to us were Eldoth and Garrick. Garrick grinned at me. “I’m back! And just in time, too. I need material for a few more verses of my tribute to our friendship.” I frowned, trying to decide what to do. I didn’t trust Eldoth, but maybe it was time to clarify the situation with Skie. The most direct method of doing that would be to accompany Eldoth. We passed through the gate, approaching the main door of the mansion. Eldoth held up his hand to stop us, and turned to me. “We should sneak in and find her room. Once there, we’ll sneak her out. We shouldn’t kill any guards, as that will bring the wrath of the Flaming Fist down on our heads.” I got us into the mansion by claiming we were a delegation from Waterdeep that wished to wait until Entar Silvershield returned. I got us upstairs by using my charm ability on a guard. I felt guilty, since it was likely the guard would be blamed for whatever happened. We found Skie in her room, confined to the house by her father. As soon as she saw Eldoth, she cried, “Eldoth! I thought I’d never see you again,” then she hurried over and kissed him, which answered the nature of their relationship. Eldoth, hugging her, seemed pleased, although it could have been an act. “Skie! It’s good to see you again, we’re here to get you away from this place. These people with me are friends of mine; we’re what you might call adventurers.” “Thank you for your help!” she said, turning to the rest of us. “I am so happy to be away from that horrid place. Eldoth told me that you were adventurers. Perhaps you would let me join your party?”

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I shook my head in dismay. I could imagine what Jaheira would say if I showed up with the daughter of one of the leaders of Baldur’s Gate in tow. Skie took my gesture for agreement. “Thanks, I’ll be the best adventurer you’ve ever seen!” I hurried everyone from the mansion, Skie wrapped in a cloak and hidden amongst our numbers. As we went, I tried to decide what to do. I certainly did not intend to aid Eldoth’s original scheme of blackmailing Skie’s father. I talked to her, trying to form some opinion of her character. Her admittedly sheltered life had consisted mostly of learning ballet, history, and languages. Being exceptionally agile she had become a very proficient dancer, though this natural dexterity had mainly allowed her to better sneak off on sojourns away from the estate. She said she found the nastier areas of Baldur’s Gate exciting, though she seemed naïve about the dangers. On one of her escapades she met up with the debonair Eldoth, and thought that he could help her live the life of adventure that she craved. She trusted him implicitly, perhaps too much so. I couldn’t see turning Eldoth in to the authorities. Given the power of Skie’s father, he might be put to death for kidnapping. Certainly, despite his evil nature, he had committed no crime here in which I wasn’t fully complicit. I didn’t think Eldoth would get Skie out of Baldur’s Gate, despite her professed love of adventure. Complaints like “I broke a nail.” or “My feet hurt.” were a pretty good indicator of this. We had walked until we were near the center of the city. Skie smiled over my shoulder at Eldoth, calling out, “I love you Eldoth.” “Skie, don’t bother me right now,” replied Eldoth, obviously mulling over his own thoughts. I wondered that Skie didn’t see the shallowness of Eldoth’s affections. As I was considering this Garrick revealed his purpose in being here. “Perhaps you’d care to hear my music Skie,” he cooed, walking alongside her and taking her hand, “it’s very different and somewhat better than Eldoth’s.” “I’d love to hear your music Garrick,” she replied. “Be silent Skie, it’s not like your opinion is worth anything.” Eldoth was annoyed. “Why do you always have to make fun of me! I hate you! Get away from me!” “Skie, my little angel, a woman should know her place,” Eldoth condescendingly told her. “Don’t speak to Skie that way, Eldoth,” Garrick championed her. “She deserves better.” Trust Garrick to become involved over a woman. I had hope that Skie would realize Eldoth was trying to use her, and that this fiasco could actually come to a favorable resolution. Garrick pulled Skie aside, but not so far I couldn’t overhear what he had to say. “Why do you stay with Eldoth, Skie? Can’t you see he’s just using you?” “Eldoth is a kind man,” Skie insisted. “He cares about me Garrick.”

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Then again, perhaps there wasn’t a good resolution here. In any case, I didn’t want Eldoth and Skie following me around any more. I told them they would have to make their own way. “You…you don’t want me anymore? But…but where will I go? Oh, this hasn’t worked out like I’d hoped at all. You’ll come back for me…right?” Skie was hurt by my rejection, but Eldoth just grabbed hold of her arm and hustled her off. I pulled Garrick aside to talk to him, emphasizing that I was counting on him to look after Skie and protect her from Eldoth. The problem with Garrick was that the first gentle puff of wind would deflect him from his course, no matter what arguments I used. Perhaps Alora or someone else could be spared to also keep on eye on Skie. As I was considering this, I noticed Imoen urgently motioning to me. I hurried over to her, and she told me to follow her. She led me down a street, to the opening to an alley. Eldoth and Skie were in the alley, as well as another familiar figure, Shar-Teel. “There is no good or evil, only the charming and the tedious.” Evidently he and Shar-Teel not only knew one another, they were arguing. “Your impudence will one day get you killed Eldoth,” warned Shar-Teel. “Shar-Teel, your lot in life is to bake cookies and bear children, now shut up.” “Say another word Eldoth, and I’ll cut out your tongue.” “Stop your whining wench.” “Watch your mouth Eldoth, or I’ll end your life where you stand.” “Your wit is somewhat lacking.” “You were warned Eldoth! Now reap the consequences.” Shar-Teel made a move towards her weapon, but Skie flung herself screaming in front of Eldoth. For a moment Shar-Teel appeared to consider going ahead, but she withdrew her hand, and began to walk away. She tossed a comment over her shoulder as she left. “Eldoth, you’re an impotent, degenerate lout, who has delusions of male superiority.” Shar-Teel was headed directly for where I was standing at the mouth of the alley. I quickly moved away, since I had no desire to meet her again. The next day, a dwarf stopped me in the street. He looked around carefully to be sure who else was around, then confided to me in a low voice, “There’s a fat man by the name of Algernon staying at Feldepost’s Inn in Beregost. He keeps a cloak with him in his room and I need you to get your larcenous hands on it and bring it back to me. I assure you that your reward will be handsome. Try not to kill him, just filch it off his person.” I angrily rejected his suggestion, walking away. I was walking quickly, trying to throw off my rage, when I felt a gentle tugging at my arm. It was Imoen. She hesitantly told me there was something I needed to know. She reminded me of the cloak she had given me while we were staying at Feldepost’s Inn, which was now nearly two months back. She admitted she had stolen it from the room of a man staying

118 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast there, a man who fit the description the dwarf had given of Algernon. What was more, her new magical abilities informed her the cloak itself was magical, and probably gave its wearer the ability to cast an enchantment on others. This wasn’t the first time Imoen had gifted me with something she had lifted from someone else, and I was rather annoyed. Then I realized a connection with what she had said, about enchantments. What I had believed to be my “charm” ability must come from the cloak! Thinking back, the few times the charm had not worked, I had not been wearing it. It was a great relief to me. Not only had the ability to charm others to my will led me into questionable moral choices, it had led me to question my own abilities, to second-guess my judgment of others. I would gladly doff the cloak and risk the occasional misreading of intentions. If only there was a similar simple explanation for the strange dreams I had been having. I resolved to give the cloak to Jaheira, to be carried south to Beregost when opportunity presented, hopefully to be reunited with its rightful owner. In the meantime, I would continue today’s mission, which was to circulate about the town and try to pick up on rumors. We had come to the Helm and Cloak inn, which we entered and headed to the bar. A group of four adventurers were already there. One of them greeted us. “Ahoy, fellow adventurers! Come share a glass with Gorpel Hind and his Band of Merry Fools. Seated with me are Farluck the Fearless, Turpin the Roaring Ranger, and Nelik the Most Devious and Fiendish of Thieves! (We owe him money so he gets the good title…) But away with these meager introductions! Sidle up to the bar and tell us a tall tale of your latest adventures!” Kivan, in a rare good mood, introduced our party and made his boasts. “Well, we’ve been through the Cloakwood and fought our way through every level of a guarded and secret iron mine at its heart! There were mages at every turn, casting lightning bolts and fireballs into the heart of our party before stepping through their dimension doors to renew their attacks from another flank! Aye, there was loss and carnage but I revel in the memory of it still!” “Iron mines in the Cloakwood? Your tales are tall, indeed, and we are richer for the telling. Consider yourselves honorary members of the Merry Fools and may ale and friendship always flow within these hallowed halls! A toast, you drunkards, to Rolanna and the winsome souls that surround us now!” As we were talking, five other adventurers entered the inn. They came up to the bar; one of them shouldered me aside to get a seat, loudly declaring, “Clear the way for Gretek and the Maulers of Undermountain!” “If you truly be maulers of Undermountain, you can clear your own way,” I growled, not pleased at his attitude. Gretek took instant and extreme offense at my remark. “No one stands between the Maulers and their ale! Ready your weapons, men, we have some garbage to pick up!” Gorpel Hind and his band immediately drew weapons and joined us in facing off the Maulers. A short, bloody fight, with swords, axes, bows and magic left all the members of my group and the Merry Fools injured, while the Maulers were dead. The Helm and

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Cloak also needed a new bar, which the coins from the dead Maulers I left behind would cover. Gorpel Hind solemnly shook my hand after the combat. “We have been honored by your presence tonight and awed by your prowess. I beg your leave, however, for some of my men are wounded and must seek attention elsewhere. May the houses of Rolanna and Gorpel Hind be ever graced with each other’s friendship... Come, men, and carry your wounds bravely.”

Shandalar It was time to return to Ulgoth’s Beard and talk to Mendas now that I had charts for the western ocean. It seemed to me that the Iron Throne conspiracy was all but extinguished, so I could afford to spend the time. Jaheira didn’t agree with my decision, but I could tell she thought the danger of war between Amn and Baldur’s Gate had ended. Her objections came from a desire to see a job rapidly completed once started, and the fear that Gorion’s killer, whoever that was, would leave the city and become a nuisance to track down. As for myself, after my sheltered upbringing in Candlekeep, I had become addicted to adventuring with my new friends, and I was afraid that once the threat from the Iron Throne was finished my friends would remember they had other obligations, and go their separate ways. I decided to take Imoen, Kivan, Yeslick, Dynaheir and Minsc with me. Alora, the halfling thief, was sorry to see Minsc, or more exactly his little companion, leaving. She always found an excuse to stop by the Elfsong when Minsc was there, and played with Boo as much as Minsc would tolerate, making comments like, “Aw! It’s just the cutest little hamsty-wamsty! Who’s a fuzzy Boo?” We left the city for the nearby village of Ulgoth’s Beard. We entered the village, heading for Mendas’ house. A man, dressed as a mage, stopped me. “I know of you. You are of an odd countenance, and I can count pretty darn high, too. I have need of you…what say you to this?” “I do not know who you are. Introduce yourself, and we shall see if I can help you.” “I am Shandalar, and I am the default benefactor of this place. My home is here, as are my major interests. I take interest in whoever comes this way, and you are very interesting indeed. I should like you to perform a task for me. A small thing, really, but something I do not have time for myself. I need for you to go to…another place…and retrieve an item of mine. Very simple, and if you succeed I will think all the better of you. What say you to this?” “Why do you need me for this task when you seem more than capable?” “I have other things that call my attentions, so it is more convenient that you go. Besides, I know you not and this serves as a good measure of you. Already I know you are more interested in the ‘why’ and not so much the profit. Will you do this?” “Yes I will. I’m ready now.” It seemed a simple enough task, and I willing to help him out.

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“You are on your way, then. When you have located my cloak return to where you arrived and this ward token will effect your release…er…your passage back. Off you go now.” Before I could ask where his cloak was located, Shandalar cast a spell. My friends and I were teleported. The first thing I noticed was the cold. The second was that Shandalar was not present. We were on a tiny island. Fragments of ice floated in the waters about as far as I could see. An entry leading underground was near us. I quickly led the others into it, since we were not dressed for the cold. Beneath the surface it was much warmer. The tunnel debauched into twisting passages, precisely mined through the rock. Not having any choice, I led the others into them. We had not gone far before we encountered three mages. One of them addressed us. “Well, well, well. I sensed the ripples and there you are, but…you are something new. Tell me, friend, how come you to this place?” “I was sent by Shandalar,” I replied, hoping his name would draw a response. “Seems there is something of his on this island that he wants returned.” “Shandalar! Well, there is a name I have not heard in awhile. Aye, he was here. The bastard managed to escape, though I know not how. This isle is much like a prison, and is uncharted on any map I have seen. The stars indicate we are far to the south, but I cannot seem to get more precise than this. This place seems a magnet of sorts. If you are powerful enough to transport without error across an ocean, you are apparently of sufficient power to be caught and dragged here. It is the very place that does it…seems to ensnare the energy. Needless to say, leaving the island by magical means seems entirely impossible.” “What is the purpose of this place? Who constructed it?” “I don’t know an answer to either question. It could be a joke of the gods, or a test… or both. It is hard to tell with gods. It could be a natural phenomenon, though the tunnels below certainly are not. Trapped mages may have fashioned them for shelter however. There is little else to do here except plot, study, or go mad. I prefer to plot. On that note, if you would be so kind as to strip down and give me what you are carrying I would be ever so grateful.” “What? But why? Certainly we can come to some agreement?” “But why? I think I can overpower the pull of this place if I have enough magical energy. You may have items, or your very being may yield fuel. I care not which, and I am through talking!” “For right! And I always am!” angrily yelled Dynaheir, preparing a spell. I started swinging my blade. The others joined in; we handily defeated the three. On the mage’s body, I found a book, entitled “The Journal of Andris of Iriaebor.” Would that I had more paper to write upon, but much was burned in haste for warmth. Little there is to document anyway, and so I leave this small writ for any that might find my corpse, for that is the only way it shall part from me. Know

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that Andris does curse you for your life, and that should I return in some fell form I will hunt you for the sheer spite of you seeing my decimated body. The business of that aside, I hope that you who read this have suffered the same fate as I. The indignity of this condition! With all the power at mine fingers I must huddle around a dung-fire eating seal fat! The forces behind this place have no respect for my stature, my power! I have slain beasts thrice my size with a glance, and traveled as a bird over oceans! Here my magic is sucked to the earth and I am held, as others are. Some have escaped, and I swear I shall hunt them and take the power they must have. To do what I cannot they must be great indeed. I curse them for leaving, I curse this place, and I curse that I have not the might to follow. We did not have to walk far to encounter another mage trapped here. “Newcomers, stop where you are! I have questions to pose to you, and you will answer them swiftly and accurately, or you will be killed. I will warn you now that I possess powerful magics, and will be able to discern almost any lie that you try to tell.” “Who are you exactly,” I wearily asked, “and what are you doing on an ice island in the middle of the ocean?” “I am Garan, and have been trapped on this infernal island ever since I tried to teleport from Maztica to Waterdeep. But it is not you who should be asking the questions. You have not answered my question yet; answer now or suffer the consequences.” “We are the party of Rolanna, and have come to find Shandalar’s stolen cloak.” “You have come to take Shandalar’s cloak, eh? Well, he must have given you something to get off of the island, something that I intend to have. Prepare to die, fools!” Garan attacked, aided by four ankhegs. We were forced to dispose of him as well. The next mage we met had a response to us that was at least novel. “Please don’t kill me! Please, please, please, please, please!” he begged. “Relax fellow, we have no reason to harm you.” “Why are you here? You weren’t sent to kill poor Cuchol?” “We’re merely here to retrieve an item. We’ll be on our way as soon as we can find it.” “Are you not trapped here? I, Cuchol, the Scourge of Lachom! The Ravisher of Surkh! Even with my fell powers, I cannot escape.” “We have our ways, Cuchol. Have you seen a cloak, perhaps?” “A ward! Of course! My friends, I have been trapped here for too long. Think of my reputation! ‘Cuchol,’ they’ll say, ‘What kind of mystical magic man are you?’ Then I’ll say ‘It’s not my fault! It’s that stupid ice!’ Then they’ll say ‘You’re a loser Cuchol. A real fool, if you catch my drift.’ Can’t you see? My reputation! I must have that ward! I must escape!” “We can’t help you, Cuchol. We need to leave this place ourselves.” “But it’s so cold! Don’t you see? It’s cold! Why does Cuchol bother with these wretches? Very well, I must have the ward!”

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Another mage we were forced to kill. We continued searching the passages, until we encountered a gnome whose stay had left him less than stable. “Hehahee-he-heeee…been here long?” “Long enough, though I can’t say I’ve seen you before. By what name shall I call you, friend?” “Hrmmm…You may call me Tellan Altru’ar, the shining light of Tethyr, for once I was, once I was. And you I shall call Buttercup because I can and shall, hoo-hooo! You have a way out of here, don’t you? I smell it on you!” “I do but it comes with a price. There is a cloak I need to find and many here who would see me and my master dead before they let it fall from their grubby hands. Follow me and be of some assistance in the battles and mayhaps I’ll let you come with me when I go.” “You would? Really? No, you wouldn’t, you wouldn’t…but you could…Hehahee- he-heeee. No magic, though, I will save my magic in case you turn on me... But darts, yes, I’ll cast my darts into their very eyes if it shall get me off this frigid rock!” Tellan, also, attacked. To those still alive in this place, trust must be a word long unlearned. We continued, coming at last to a chamber which could perhaps be said to be the heart of the place. At least no other passages led from it. A single mage awaited us. “Now now now, hello there. And you might be who? Another wayward spellslinger looking for a way out? Or just another power-hungry fool trying to force the doors from the wrong side? Tell me, warrior, why is it that whatever you seek is always in the last place you look?” “I have no time for your riddles! I seek a cloak that belongs to Shandalar!” “Do you now? And he did not come for it himself? Of course not. He left this place only by shedding his most powerful dweomers. More sensible to send you, who are of lesser power. No doubt he will extricate you using some sort of focus, drawing you away with magic centered elsewhere once you have completed your task. Have I guessed your means of travel? Do you even know?” “How do you know these things of me?” “The others here are like me, in that they do not understand this place. I doubt the place itself could tell its own purpose were it able to answer questions. Suffice it that I am not so quick to turn to desperation as the others, and I do not fear the unknown quite so much. If this place draws magical energies to it, and I am here at the center, then it draws magical energy to me by default. In time I will harness it, and in time I will leave. Already I know more of things here than any other. I can see things…things others cannot.” “And what do you see? What is this place?” “I see why you are here. I see that I have what you seek. I see that we must fight and the victor shall leave. What is this place? Many things. Today it is a dueling pit. Tomorrow it will be a graveyard. Yesterday it was…what? I cannot say. If it is natural it

123 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast is an abomination. If it is divine, it is utterly cruel. We are all many things, including obtuse and unclear. Do what you will. If I win, I am released. If I lose, I am released.” He attacked, and forced us to release him from his life. On his body I found a scroll: Scribble scribble scribble, as every mage must do. These walls will hold your power fast, unless I walk right through. A boat I bade from birch and bark, but burned I did at morn. Rather I gather in this held spot, than suffer my hands get worn. Fools this place has, and many more to come. I will greet and take what will, and in the end will I have all? Oh, I think so. I mock your prison AO, as though you would care to listen. Are you even behind the walls? I see your symbols in the sky, but others too. Mystra, goddess of magic, my magical maiden, why do you treat your children so? Do you give the sparkle of magic only so it cannot be used? A lesson in humility for those on the verge of true power? Drop your robes and wands and staves, or forever be trapped with your self-importance and pride? Perhaps, but I will not shed what I have earned just to walk the skies again. I shall profit from this; I will play outside your rules. This place will bring it all to me in time, though I can’t take it elsewhere. No, you can’t take it with you, but you can stay with it, and hold it tight. Perhaps with outside help? Bah! None but those who have learned can find this place again, and they will not interrupt the teaching. I will not bend; I will snap and strike back in time. Humility is so… humiliating, and I will not suffer more. Power impotent is still preferable to power lost. Of course, perhaps the walls do not listen to such musings, and my writing is pointless. No matter, for tomorrow I shall wipe this clean and write anew. My verse gets better. One must have hobbies. Also on his body was a cloak. As soon as I picked it up, the ward stone we carried triggered, teleporting us all back to Ulgoth’s Beard, where Shandalar greeted us. “You return! Excellent!” He plucked the cloak from my nerveless grasp. “And you are little the worse for wear, in a relative sense. An excellent measure of your worth, I think. You have proven yourself quite capable.” “What was that place?” My head was still whirling from the pace of events, as I tried to make sense of all that had occurred. “It is an odd place, to be sure. Teleportations are affected most drastically, in effect trapping the occasional passing mage. Those that are there will find their way off in time. Those that are not there anymore have found their own way off. I think you will agree that the ones that you met were not inclined to work together and effect their own release. An excellent judge of character in a supposedly natural phenomenon, wouldn’t you say? I must be off. Fare ye well.” If that was its purpose, it seemed poorly constructed to me. The collection of refuse we had encountered would be almost certainly fatal to any unsuspecting traveler who was caught, regardless of their morals. Unless, of course, someone occasionally stopped by to

124 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast clean the rats from the trap. Of course, it could be viewed that was what I had done. I chuckled at the thought of my search for my purpose as a paladin ending by finding that I was some cosmic vermin exterminator. Then I stopped. Viewed that way, I wondered if it didn’t make sense after all. Too bad Shandalar had already magically transported himself away.

Balduran’s Fate I met with Mendas, giving him the charts we had secured, on which he marked the likely position of an island that might hold clues about the last voyage of Balduran. Optimistic about our success, he had already hired a captain willing to dare the trip. Surprisingly, Mendas himself would not be coming. He was content to let me do the actual exploration. The ship set its sails against the morning light and we were off across the waves. The Sea of Swords allowed our passage without incident, and in a scant amount of time we were on to truly open waters. A score or more of days passed, but the aptly named Trackless Sea seemed to stretch before us without end. The waters were calm, though the wind remained steady and sure. The merchant vessel our employer had chartered was a fine ship, but her crew was not accustomed to journeys so far off the established trade routes. The more superstitious among them spoke of a great waterfall off the edge of Faerun, of a secret Elven nation that scuttles all that dare come near, or even of island-size turtles that eat whole ships. Such fancy weighed heavily on the minds of nervous sailors, and the mood aboard ship slowly turned. Tensions began to mount, and rumors of mutiny threatened my resolve. It was a mixed blessing that all aboard were soon given a very real danger to occupy their thoughts. The storm came without warning, and hit with a fury that seemed almost deliberate. Gale force winds tossed the ship about like a cork, and it was all the crew could do to keep her afloat. The captain insisted my companions and I board a lifeboat, to save ourselves. This being an enemy I had no idea how to fight, I followed his suggestion. Whether because of honest concern for his passengers, or fear our ill luck would doom his ship, the captain had managed to save us. Somehow, we found our way to a beach. Morning’s light revealed we had reached an island. The boat we had arrived in was damaged beyond our ability to repair. The wooden flotsam that had also washed ashore during the night did not speak well for the safety of the captain and his crew. As we considered what to do, a small girl had appeared over the top of a nearby dune. She greeted us. “Hello, you…you smell funny. You swim in?” “Hello, child. You are quite brave to speak with strangers washed-up on the beach. What if we were dangerous?” “Silly, you not dangerous. You are driftwood and all soggy and hurt. You are from outside, but maybe you belong if you are nice.” “Then I will try to be nice. Who lives here? You are not all by yourself, are you?”

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“Alone? Of course not, silly. There’s mommay, poppay, my brother too. We’ve got neighbors too. The village is very nice. It’s boring sometimes, but I like it.” “The seas are treacherous in this area. How did you come to live here? I saw no ships nearby.” “Mommay says great-great grammay came here on a ship-home like you. Somthin’ happened and they had to swim or be caught by the fishies. The ship-home is here somewhere, I guess. We’re not allowed to go there.” “You do not seem alarmed to see me. How often do strangers come here?” “Not very often, and they don’t always want to make friends. That’s what mommay says, but I never seen anyone that doesn’t belong. Until I meet you, anyway. You still smell funny, but you not scary. Not like the beasties.” “The ‘beasties’? What do you mean?” “The beasties are scary. They sometimes look like us, but they change and get mean. Mommay says they are nothing more than animals, but the other animals don’t hate us so much. Maybe…maybe you will help us?” “Perhaps, but I should meet with your people and find out what is going on first.” “Yeah, you go to the village and speak to mommay’s friend, Kaishas. She leads while mister chieftain is away. Dunnow where he went, but he’s away and you should speak to Kaishas. I gotta go, but maybe we will see each other later, maybe I too busy playing. We’ll see. Bye-bye!” She skipped off. We paused to gather our belongings, then moved inland. We did not have to go far to find the girl’s village, a cluster of huts surrounded by a stout wooden palisade. We found the woman Kaishas the little girl had mentioned in one of the huts. “You are strangers here. You do not belong,” she said when we entered, which I thought a rather obvious statement. She continued in a somewhat more friendly manner, “Hello to you that do not belong. I greet ye, and ask your purpose to be here. We are wary of those strange to us, and some may fear your coming. Please assure my worry you are not here to harm.” “We will not harm you. Our ship foundered and we washed ashore on your island.” “Then you are as we, for our beginning was as yours. Long have we been on this home, but not always. The mothers of our great-grandmothers were from away, but traveled near and the depths swallowed their ship. Accursed cliffs below have sharper teeth than we.” “You were shipwrecked? How long ago? I have come looking for an ancient shipwreck.” “You have? How you know of this place? We are undisturbed for age upon age, but you know of our wreck?” “A merchant ship sailed close during a storm and spotted it. It bears the markings of Balduran, a hero that went missing some 300 years ago. A man named Mendas hired me to find it. His accent is not unlike yours.”

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“Mendas? I do not know this name. I had hoped…one of our kin left the home some time ago, and I thought he might have send you. Selaad was his name, and he was our chieftain. I know not Balduran either. He was not among our founders; he never belong as we. The wreck I have not seen for year upon year. But know where it is I do.” “Have you tried to repair it? Maybe we could use it to rescue ourselves?” “Repair is not likely. It has been age upon age since landing and freedom. Our wreck was skeleton then, and will not have endured the years as well as we. I have not been for long time gone though.” “Why have you not visited the wreck in so long?” “It is not safe to go. Cursed by beasts, this island is. Our wall protects, and we fight tooth and nail. The village is refuge, but the island is wild. There are those that do not belong; they are death to us, and we to them.” “Is there any other way off the island? A way around the ‘beasts’?” “There is a way. We did start to build a ship-home. After all, if we can build the wall and village, we can build the craft to leave. The first of the mothers were concerned with survive, but now we wish to go. The beasts have caused us trouble no end though. We could not build ship-home on this edge of island because of reef and cliffs below the sea. The other side of the isle is calm, but the creatures live there. We have fought tooth and nail, but we wish peace in life. Perhaps…perhaps you can help? If you kill the beasts we would be free to leave all. I trust you have charts for sea directions? If we could finish ship-home, we could be delivered all.” “I must know what beast you speak of. What must we fight?” “The beasts? They evil, and kill us on sight! We have held them back, and lived as human as we could. They are animals, and live as wolves or carrion-feeders. They disgust, and we despise them.” “That was very informative, but exactly what type of creatures are they?” “Wolf-like, but not wolves. Man-like, but not men. I sorry, but I do not know what you would call them. All we know is that they are like us, but not like us. They do not belong.” “Say no more, I shall deal with them immediately!” “Wonderful! You will help us and we will help you. Together we leave this isle and take our children to the world. You will find the gates are open to you. Please close tightly behind, and we shall guard while you search. They have a leader, the beasts do. Their howling calls him Karoug, but it is hard to understand for sure.” If we were ever to leave this island, we would need the help of its inhabitants. Dealing with these creatures would greatly aid in securing their help. I decided to look around the village a bit before I sought out their enemies. Most of the villagers would only exchange a few brief sentences with us, since we did not “belong.” A few were more forthcoming, one of which was a man named Jorin. “Brave heroes, eh? Fools more like it.”

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“We claim to be neither heroes nor fools. Explain yourself.” “It is my job to protect the people of my clan from all dangers, including your promise of deliverance from the man-wolves. I have fought the beasts. You and your handful of warriors have little chance of defeating these monsters. I don’t want you running around making promises that cannot be kept.” “You say that you have fought these beasts. Tell us what you know about them and their weaknesses.” “The wolves can appear to be human, but don’t be fooled, they are animals at heart. They will kill for pleasure as much as for food. The younger wolf beasts are much weaker than their elders. They are dark brown in color with some black fur. They are completely tactless. They will attack without thought regardless of the odds. The older beasts are black with some silver fur. They are powerful and cunning foes. Some of them can even cast spells. They live on the ship of our ancestors. A great black brute rules them. He calls himself Karoug. The beasts can not be injured with normal weapons. Only blessed or enchanted weapons will harm them. They will always change to their true form to attack. That is all that I can help you with. I hope that you are successful.” In a hut near the shore I talked to another man. “Intrepid explorers, are ye? Not sailors, though. Ye don’t have the walk. A sea dog like meself would know. I am Taloun, once a sailor of Amn, and now a proud member of this clan.” “You seem to have knowledge of life off of this island. Is there a tale to go with it?” “We sailed to Maztica and returned, laden with spices. The ship was attacked by a kraken and dragged beneath the waves. Those of us that survived were pulled, one by one, into the kraken’s beak to be eaten. I clung to some of the ships planking and somehow the kraken missed me. I drifted for days, eating me shoes and drinking only rainwater. Eventually I drifted to this island. I gained membership to the clan by showing the villagers new techniques for fishing and farming. The clan has been here since Balduran’s time ye understand. They be sorely in need of the little bit of modern technology that I be having. It is a fantastic tale, I admit, but I swear it is true.” “What can you tell us of Balduran’s final voyage?” “I know only a bit of the story, meself. They are very tight-lipped about the details surrounding their entrapment here. The crew stopped here to replenish supplies. They were attacked by savage lycanthropes; wolves that could turn into men if they so desired. In the battle, the ship was torched and the wolf beasts chased the crew to this end of the island. The combatants fought to a standstill. The crew built this village and the wolf beasts took over the ship. Betwixt skirmishes life went on. The female crewmembers took husbands and started families. Things remain much the same today.” “Why didn’t the crew build another boat and escape their fate?” “It isn’t so simple, ye landlubber. Balduran and his guide Dradeel went missing in the battle. No one knows where this isle lays, for certain. Nevertheless, an attempt has been made. The fisherman, under my tutelage, built a small boat. Selaad Gan, our headman and husband to Kaishas, sailed for the mainland nearly a year ago. We have not

128 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast heard from him. He is assumed to be dead. I can say no more at this time but I will offer ye the advice that I never got. Watch yourself. Nothing on this island be as it seems. Not these people, not the monsters and not meself. Do what you must quickly. Ye don’t have much time.” With that nebulous warning, we set out for the north side of the island. We found the creatures the villagers had told of us of to be as vicious as described. Several times, one would appear to us in human form, attempting to lure us into an ambush by wolves in humanoid shape. Kivan was familiar with their type, and named the creatures wolfweres, whose natural form was wolf-like, but who could assume the guise of a human. We were nearing the north shore of the island, for I could hear the sound of surf ahead, when we stumbled on a small cabin, partly inset into the earth itself. When we tried the door it easily opened for us. Inside was a solitary elf. “You’re not figments, are you?” he cried at our entry. “I’m not wasting any more time talking to figments!” He reached forward, touching my arm, flinching when I proved to be real. “Can it be? After so long? By Selune’s Blade, I am saved!” “Do I know you, sir?” “Know me? I doubt it very much. How did you find me? Did the Gibbering Twelve send you? Or was it perhaps, Golodon the Unmanned?” “Excuse me? I’ve never heard of the Gibbering Twelve or, for that matter, this Unmanned fellow.” “Selune! How long have I been here! I should never have joined Balduran on this cursed voyage. Why is this happening? Who sent you, then, if not my mistress’ eyes?” “Mendas of Waterdeep, a scholar and archeologist. We were sent to retrieve artifacts from Balduran’s ship.” “I could use retrieval, I suppose, but I’m hardly an artifact.” “Could you tell us what happened on Balduran’s final voyage?” “We sailed to far Anchorome, 200 strong. We returned with half of our brethren dead on the Golden Land’s shores. But Balduran was ever the successful adventurer. He wrested a king’s ransom in treasure from the Cursed Lord’s of Anchorome before we were forced back to the ship and expelled from their shores. The Cursed Lords power haunts me still. Those monstrosities out there are the product of our travails in Anchorome. ‘Twas a bitter wind that carried us homeward and we reveled not in our newfound wealth.” “We came upon this island quite by accident and stopped to renew our dwindling supply of fresh water. I led the landing party while Balduran set the remaining crew to repairing the sails and fishing for fresh food. My party was hardly out of earshot of the ship when the curse struck.” He looked down at the floor. “The blood still stains my robes...” “Out with it, man! What happened?”

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“They changed, of course. It was so sudden. We were speaking about what we intended to do when we arrived home. Galan died first, his throat torn open by one of the changed men. I couldn’t tell who killed him, of course, since they were unrecognizable in their changed forms. I reached for the wand that I carried in my robes, but the abominations moved too quickly. Of the ten sailors in my party, seven were lycanthropes. We had no chance. Two of them leaped at me even while the others feasted on the bodies of my other sailors. I cast lightning with my wand and killed one of the shape-shifters. The other wolf hit me with great force. I was thrown back against a tree and I knew no more.” “I awoke in the dark, several hours later. At first, I believed I was dead, but when I tried to rise, the pain in my head dispelled that myth. There was blood everywhere. So much blood. The body of the lycanthrope I had killed lay several feet away, draped over Galan’s ravaged corpse. I retched at the sight of my friend, so cruelly killed. I cast one of the few spells I had, invisibility, wagering that if a lycanthrope caught scent of me, they would believe that they were smelling nothing more than a corpse. I crawled painfully back to the beach. The ship was half sunk in the surf, a huge hole in her side, as if a giant had punched through her in a rage. There was a smoldering fire on the deck and in that sickly light I could see the bodies of the ship’s crew, gutted and hung in the rigging like so much meat. Sickened and in despair, I crawled back into the woods.” “Dawn arrived and I came upon this ancient village. This hut was sunk in the sandy soil, and I crawled inside to hide and barred the way behind me with my final spell. After a short and fretful sleep, I managed to find where the hut had broken through into this cave. To this point, I have survived on this freshwater stream and a peculiar sightless fish that lives in the calm pools below. In these 500 years I have found some favor with Selune. She has granted me a few spells and wards to better protect my precarious home. I haven’t left these caves for many years as I haven’t the power to defend myself for long. Mayhaps you could remedy that.” “If you help us fight the lycanthropes then we will help you.” “I can do little to help you against the more powerful lycanthropes. However, this wolfsbane charm will make the younger lycanthropes wary of attacking you. In return for this assistance, I must ask a favor of you.” “Speak on, good sir, I am yours to command.” “Truly, I am in your debt. The lycanthropes’ lair is in Balduran’s ship. My spell book lies within. With it, I am a powerful mage. Without it, I am the pauper that stands before you. These few wards I cast are gifts of pity from Selune. I have turned to the goddess in my fear and solitude. Perhaps my lengthy imprisonment is but a penance so that I might become worthy of the Goddess. I digress. With my spellbook retrieved, I may be able to discover a way off of the island. If you go to destroy the lycanthropes’ lair, I would ask that you find my book.” “Where might this book be found in the ship?” “My spellbook is in a chest in my cabin. The cabin is next to Balduran’s on the level just below the decks. Please hurry back with it. Should you need to rest, I hope that my humble abode will serve you well.”

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We exited the hut. Apparently, the wards Dradeel kept about it only repelled lycanthropes. I wondered why in hundreds of years none of the villagers had happened on the hut and met its occupant. The wreck of the ship of Balduran was nearby. We entered through the gaping hole in its side, into what was once the bilge. There were four sound decks in all, which we cleared one by one from the bottom up, facing wolves, wolfweres and other unnameable wolf hybrids. I was glad for the presence of Imoen and Dynaheir, since their spells greatly aided our passage. On the top deck we found one of the creatures in human form, who spoke to us. “Who dares to come unannounced?” “Rolanna. We have come to put an end to your reign of terror over this island.” “Reign of terror, outsiders? You speak to Kaishas, yes? She tell you lies about my people. It is not truth. Karoug will tell you truth.” “You have my attention. Go ahead.” “They have told you that my people are evil but truth is different. They hate us because we are not like them. They kill us on sight. They set fire to our home. You should kill the others, we are innocent. We kill only to defend.” “That story is quite different according to our knowledge.” “You do not kill my family and dare to question me! Die if you cannot understand.” The leaders of the clan were on this deck, and the hardest to kill. But we managed the feat. We found a tome, water-stained and brittle with time, but passages were still readable. This is the logbook of the goode ship Wandering Eye, under the command of the mos…orthy Balduran …will return once we have again seen far off shores. The men are restless, but the promise of wealth rivaling our last voyage will keep them well in line… …weather is clear and we shall make Anchorome in goodly time, of that I have no doubt… …have calmed the crew, though nervouse they will remain. I blame them not, for it was not a pleasante encounter in the least. Bloody Elves would do well to remember that the sea belongs to no one, save the gods that guard her. I shall avoide the northerly passage just the same, if only to prevent another overzealouse boarding party. Such paranoia from the ‘fair folk…’ …arrived in Anchorome, and I am remembered by a goodly number of people, not all fondly… …but ‘his grace’ has deemed me worthy to proceed through his lands. I am quite sure the two hundred-strong complement of the Wandering Eye aided in the decision. Still, we were received in goode humore, and I will not request tribute…

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…adventure it has been! Such wealth as this…only in the deepest ruins of home. Here it is almost for the taking, with only a measure of ‘diplomatic’ discussions as the cost… …attacked, and barely made it to the ship in time. Dradeel did warn of such, but who is to trust a worde from his mouth? I do sweare, his senses seem addled at the best of times… …the crew, but a larger share for the remaining will keep them well and truly happy. I shall conscript replacements from the local populace this night, and we shall set our sails at dawn… …delays, but with one hundred and fifty new hands, one must expect the going to be slow at the start. They seem quite calm and orderly, not at all as I expected… …should have searched! We cast him out, but his words…eady inflamed the crew. I know not what was worse, the shaman’s constant…or the reaction of the crew when he was committed to the sea. Their eyes are…and resigned. I dislike a crew with no fire in their bellies, but I do suppose it is better than a fire in the hold… …weather unseasonable, and the moode does worsen. As well, beetles have beset the foode stores, and we shall surely be hungry long before reaching the coast of home… …set aground to forage. It is a small isle, but will yield what we need. Perhaps I shall…on my own while the crew…time on land will do them goode… …original men seem quite shallow in the face, quite different from the pallor of the new recruits, but all are most definitely ill… With the tome was a golden sword, which must also have come from Balduran’s time. Dynaheir examined it, informing me its enchantments were specifically directed against lycanthropes. We returned to Dradeel, giving him his spellbook. He grabbed it, feverishly paging through its contents. He stopped at one page, cried out, “It is done! Freedom!” and disappeared in a burst of magical energy. So much for any concern about his rescuers. We searched his hut. Only one volume held anything of note. The Recipes and Ruminations of One Dradeel of Tethir Formerly ‘A Lovely Bun-cake Brightens Anyone’s Day’ The recipes herein are mine own imagining, and thus ingredients are subject to change as per my whim. ************ Belladonna Bun-cake A simple little dish for a rainy afternoon. Cornflour,

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The eggs of a seabird, A spoon of the Whitecap fungus, The fruit of your choice for sweetening, One small measure of the belladonna root. Prepare as one would a breadloaf, though less time given to the rising. Bake in a well stoked hearth under leaves for one turn of the hourglass. Notes to myself: Refrain from eating this ever again. Exceptionally poisonous. Remember the unfortunate week on the kitchen floor. ************ Dradeel’s Vegetable Surprise A dish that turned out surprisingly edible. Not recommended as the primary meal every day for 300 years. Some disorientation may result. Place 2 cups of virgin Netherise Olive Oil and 1 large chopped onion in a large pot Sauté onions in oil over medium fire until onions begin to become clear Add 2 chopped carrots and 2 chopped stalks of celery Sauté for an additional 3 minutes Add 1 1/2 quarts of water and bring to a boil. Add 2 diced and peeled potatoes, 1 cup of white wine (I find that a Myth Rhynnian vintage is perfect), 1 bay leaf, 2 diced tomatoes, and chopped parsley to taste. Cook, covered, over medium-smallish fire until vegetables are almost tender. Add 2 cups of chopped spinach and cook for an additional 15 minutes. Serve hot and garnish with grated cheese. Note: For orcish version, replace all ingredients with turnips. ************ Curative Ingredients for the Dispelling of Lycanthropy. Mother’s family recipe Notes: Mother’s topical salve is a rather large failure. Research further with the following in mind: The creatures on this isle are unusual beyond their splitting into two factions. Theirs is an odd curse, one that defies the traditional remedies (such as the unfortunately dangerous muffins previous), though one is not without hope. The exotic origin of the original stock suggest a unique enchantment, not unlike that of the more widely know vampiric afflictions. The casual bite might be averted using such things as the Belladonna flower, but an intentional infection could actually require the extermination of the leader of the clan. This is merely conjecture of course, as I have been unable to examine said leader. Despite my strange immunity, his is a strength that could still inflict a measure of serious damage upon my physical form. He and I have spoken on occasion, though his tolerance of me is no more resilient than mine is of him. Further notes to myself: Future offerings of peace to either of the wolven clans should not take the form of muffins of any sort. ************

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The Bachelor’s Crutch Noodles of quality and convenience. Ingredients: A measure of noodles. Boiling water Container Combine ingredients in container. Enjoy. Oh yes, enjoy. Notes to myself: Should probably be supplemented with something of nutritional value, lest my bones become brittle as chalk. Perhaps the container? When we returned to the village the inhabitants were pleased at our success. I first looked up Durlyle, with whom I had briefly spoken before leaving previously. Something about him drew me to talk to him again. “Ah, you have returned.” His reaction was much friendlier than the other villagers. “Perhaps you might answer a few questions?” “You wish to listen while I speak? There are few of the village that take an interest in history, and I delight in the telling. None are very clear, I fear. We were not concerned with records when first we came. They are…embellished, though with good intent, I am sure. You are welcome to stand a while by me…if you wish, good woman.” “Nothing would please me greater. Tell me of yourself.” I found his words strangely warming, and wished to hear more. “Myself?! I am flattered, but there is little to say.” I noticed he was slightly flushed. “My great-grandmother came to the shore on the ship-home, but lived not long. I was born not a leap to the south of here, long after the beasts were cast out, and here I live. We kept the stories, but I say they were tainted by bad memory and superstition. We are all pups in the larger sight. Our people are young…” “Young, but not without their charm, just as you are. What of your role, are you valued here? Have you thought of leaving?” The thought had come suddenly to me; why couldn’t he depart with us? “Leave? I…I had not thought of it,” he stammered in surprise. “We see so few others that it does not concern. I…I don’t know.” “Hurts nothing to consider it. There is a lot out there to see. Places you have never dreamed of.” I kept my tone light, but I realized I wanted to spend more time with him. “But that is my point. I have never dreamed of elsewhere. I dream of home. The pack is happy here. Enough of this, you make me think of sadness. We speak of happier things, and of friendship new.” I felt a little hurt, but he was right. What right did I have to take him away from all he knew? “I agree. Tell me of your people here. What are they really like?” “What of them would you hear? We came to this place long ago on a ship-home, from farther west than the light sets. The explorer chartered with us and we set to the

134 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast seas. The elders speak of the great storm, though some say the storm came from within. We that belong were to be cast aside, and fought the explorers we did. Much was lost, but this island won. We live alone and are plagued by the beasts, but slaves to none and live as free.” “What happened to Balduran? It is his ship that supposedly wrecked here.” “Balduran?! The explorer who shipped and collected, who would rather scuttle than free. The elders did not see his fate. None wished or cared. He can live among the beast for all that we care. We are better than they and he.” “What happened on the ship that caused the wreck?” “None are alive to tell. Ages have gone and the dead lay asleep. Tales are of no real truth, only symbols. We were bound, then we freed. Others fought, but we live to grow. Beyond that is future, and none know that.” “What do you mean when you say ‘you belong’?” “We belong. There is little more to it. If you were to stay, you would have to belong as well. We are a people that lives here as one. You are an outsider, as are the beasts. They are more obvious, but I think you are alike some ways. We have evil among our number alike, but we are respecting.” “You have a rich history, even for such a short one. I have enjoyed hearing it.” “And I the telling. Perhaps…perhaps I have one last task I should ask of you. Are you willing?” “If it you wish, I will make it so.” “A small thing, smaller than the last. I have need of a few simple flowers, from just beyond the wall. They grow in only a few place, and I find them strangely alluring, as with…a few other things. Would you bring me one or two? I have a special purpose for them.” “I will return as soon as possible.” I gathered the flowers for Durlyle, and returned to him. “Have you brought back those flowers I asked for, Rolanna? I eagerly await them.” “Wait no longer. I have them here.” “I thank you. Beautiful, are they not? They smell so strongly of…I know not what. These will do nicely for what I had in mind. They are for you. They grow in only a few places, as does friendship…and more. Take them from me, and this kiss as well. I think…well…of you.” Durlyle kissed me, a chaste kiss upon my cheek, but enough to cause my heart to flutter. “I am flattered beyond measure,” I replied, the truth. No one before had looked at me and seen someone worth romancing. “I do not know what to say.” Some would find Durlyle’s awkward gift of flowers hopelessly naïve, but I found his artless act touching.

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“Say nothing, and go on your way soon. I must remain here, regardless of how I might feel. You are an outsider. You do not belong, and you would not wish to. I know this. You must know this too.” “If you wish me to go, I will. I have enjoyed speaking with you, Durlyle. Please remember that outsiders are not all to be feared. Some can be considered rather charming, I hope.” “You are with words a charmer indeed. Perhaps…another time…no, another time and things would be the same. Go with my thoughts, and please be well.” I was thankful the other party members did not comment on what had just passed. Resuming the burden of duty, I reported to Kaishas Gan “Were you…successful?” she asked. “Did the beasts fall before you?” “They did, and now our way is clear. We can escape as soon as you show us where your new ship is.” “Then you are truly deserving. No more thought of fight or flight, for now you will belong as we. Hear the tale, and join our humble legion.” “They did not wish to become as we are. They fought our mothers’ grandmothers without thought, and would not reason. Balduran led them, and because of his leadership many on both sides died. I do not know his fate; only that he killed many, and so the ancestors left him to his sinking ship. He would not belong, and now we know not to ask. You will know peace with us, because we do not wish to harm our saviors. You who would help us to leave.” “Do you see these simple people before you? They are your kin now. Look at their smiling faces. Take their hands and know peace. We can sense within you, that the beasts have unwittingly given you the gift, and you can belong. Our fate is now your fate, and in time you will be as we, not as the beasts. We will shape and guide, for we are masters of ourselves. We are man, then animal, but more than both.” “Now you will belong. It not so bad, and you will begin to feel as we in a short time. It may be…unstable for a time. You may…hurt…but you will live, and we shall all go to new forests and plains with your maps and our ship-home. I will hold the sea charts for now, please you will give. We welcome you to wolfen-kind, and to family you now belong. The beasts you have killed were animal and evil, but we are proper lycantho, and noble in our peace.” “You have infected me with…lycanthropy? You are utterly evil!” The hints and innuendoes had not prepared me for this. I couldn’t believe her words. “Not so. We have a gift as a race, and wish to share with many. You will see, now that you are welcome. You who would help us to leave will belong and be welcome.” Another villager came into the hut. “I say nay, Kaishas Gan, and others with me!” “Hold your tongue, Tailas. What do you speak of?” “These mongrels are not welcome! We pure of blood from ages of the change. These cattle not as we! We should kill those that take the bite! They will only dilute our grace!”

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“They would be our saviors, Tailas, and you threaten? What sense is this?” “The best sense! I sense their filth, their…their difference! We are pure and should stay so! None will let them live! I have told to the village their hatred, and the things that their kind does to we! Believed me our people have! These mongrels will not leave alive, but we shall! With ship and maps!” “You would turn our own against those who would save? Fools you are! Rolanna, I absolve you for what you must do. I must take your charts, as I can not see them damaged in the coming conflict. Defend from what comes. I will decide later what to do about the gift.” Kaishas Gan ran from the hut. Tailas changed shape, becoming a wolfman and attacking. We cut him down, and exited the hut. Outside we were forced to kill several more of the werewolf villagers. Durlyle ran up, recognizable since he was still in human form. “Hold! I shall not harm you! You may be outsider, but that is no excuse for others to seek your death. Follow me, for I know a way out of the village less dangerous. There are warrens beneath the chieftain’s hut to the northwest. Follow and I will lead.” We followed him to another hut. I was surprised to see waiting for us Dradeel. He hadn’t abandoned us after all. “Adventurers, you must leave this place,” said Dradeel. “These are the spawn of the cursed ones that murdered us so many years ago. They have broken into two factions. The dark ones inhabit the ship and the lighter ones have built this town. These ones have built a ship. If you hurry you may yet escape.” “What else have you discovered?” “This headwoman, Kaishas, had the ship built months ago. She has been waiting for her husband, Selaad to return with maps that they might use to return to the mainland. At present, she only knows that it is east. She has gone to the ship that they have built. I have discovered a series of caves, warrens really, that the wolf monstrosities live in. There is a hidden door in this hut. The caves will lead you to the ship. I warn you now, the way is fraught with peril. Head east through the caves and you may find the exit. Hurry friends! I thank you for my freedom. Would that I had the power to help you escape myself. Ah, well, perhaps we shall meet again someday and I will repay you for your assistance.” He disappeared, transporting himself to a place of safety. “Here we must be parting.” Durlyle took my hand. Despite the circumstances, it was still enough to bring a blush to my face. “Inside there is a path to a secret place. Kaishas has not told, and none really know. I learned of it because I dared to explore and found the ship they built. It may be ready, but without seachart they could not sail. Some say the chieftain left on another ship, to find the way. I think we should stay; there is naught but fight and conflict elsewhere. The secret door is in the north of the hut. You may have seen, but it was magically closed. Now it will work, because Kaishas has gone through. Go! I will defend you to the death, for my spirit has already passed in the face of my compatriots’ intolerance. They are not the friends I thought I knew. If you are gone, perhaps they will calm. Go now!”

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We entered the tunnels, following them generally east, slaying any werebeasts we chanced upon. The tunnels ended at a path sloping upwards. We followed it, emerging on a beach, a sheltered cove on the east side of the island. Not far away a ship lay at anchor. We walked to the dock connecting to the ship. On board was Kaishas Gan. “You have done what must, but now I stop.” She shook her head sadly. “Here you hold, and here you must die.” “Why should we fight? We can still leave on your ship. Why don’t we all leave together?” “Why must we fight? Cannot let you leave knowing all this. We could have existed peacefully, but now you have fought and will never accept. Others will come to kill or capture. Adventurers like you always come, do they not? No, I must fight, and you must die! We may still have hope if Selaad returns, but you cannot help anymore.” She transformed from human form. When the combat was done, I carried her body from the ship with heavy heart, depositing it on the beach, where her people might find it and give it appropriate rites. We had no choice but to take the ship home. We were lucky that we experienced no major storms. A continent is easier to find than an island, but it was unbelievable fortune that allowed us to locate the inlet of the river on which Baldur’s Gate lay. We were incapable of mooring the ship to a dock, but we managed to hail several fishing boats, which warped us in and secured us at Ulgoth’s Beard. As we left the ship a man met us. “Hirelings return. Master Selaad awaits thee.” “You are mistaken, good fellow. We return to meet Mendas of Waterdeep.” “The master has many names on this accursed soil. Selaad is the only true one. It is not thy concern.” Imoen whispered in my ear, reminding me Selaad was the chieftain of Kaishas Gan’s clan. “This tale grows thicker with each telling.” I thought of her words, and those of Dradeel. If we had been infected with lycanthropy, it was possible the death of Selaad would heal us. “Is Mendas, or Selaad, if you will, the mate of Kaishas Gan?” “Selaad Gan is the chief of the true people. He awaits the return of his mate Kaishas. Why have thee not returned with her?” “It is not your place to question me. What part do you play in this?” “I am Baresh. I am of the true race as thee are not. The master wishes to see his wife, Kaishas Gan. Is she on the vessel still?” “It seems that we have been deceived. Kaishas is dead and her murderous ilk died with her.” My anger had been awakened, and I spoke words of Kaishas and her fellow villagers I did not entirely mean. I had meant to wound Baresh, though, and my arrow flew true. “Murderous wretch! Filth! The master will eat thy marrow for this.” He ran off, entering the house where Mendas was staying.

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We followed him into the house. Mendas, or Selaad, was also present. He questioned me. “You have returned empty-handed. Is what Baresh has said true? My wife is dead?” “Why did you send us? What was intended to happen on that island?” “The log book was nothing! Balduran was nothing! He refused the gift that grandfathers offered him. You were only to give sea charts to Kaishas and kill Karoug so he could not follow. Kaishas would have brought pack here, where I have prepare place for them. Miserable ones! You could not accomplish such simple things? Instead you kill my family and steal the boat to save your cruel selves?” My rage impelled me to destroy him for deceiving me. However, it was possible he had acted as best he knew how in a land strange to him. The death of his mate seemed punishment enough to me. I would consult others, to see if we were infected, and if a cure was possible. “We will leave now. It is just that we have prevented your cursed people from infecting the innocent people here. You brought Kaishas’ death upon her by sending us there with false pretences.” “Even if I let you run, you will not get far. You infected with lycanthropy. You will not go far before you lose control. It can only be cured by killing the chieftain of the werewolves. I am chieftain and you have no chance. You will die here today. A bloody reckoning is at hand! To me Baresh! My love shall be avenged!” His death, and that of his servant, closed out the tale, and any possible disease we might have carried. Unbelievably, we had found the remnants of Balduran’s last expedition, even an eyewitness. Despite that, his ultimate fate remained unclear. It was likely he had died in the ruins of his ship, but I liked to believe Balduran had somehow escaped, passing out of the view of history.

Durlag’s Tower We rested overnight in Ulgoth’s Beard. As we were eating breakfast the next day, a resident of the village joined us as we were finishing. He had just been on a tour to Durlag’s Tower, and had been so impressed he couldn’t resist repeating the story to us. “The tale of that ill-fated tower is a fascinating one. Durlag Troll-killer, a great dwarven hero, built the tower. Over a long and successful career, Durlag amassed a great hoard of treasure. Rumors spoke of rooms full of gems and a great hall strewn with dusty heaps of gold coins. With the aid of hired dwarves, Durlag dug many chambers and passages in the tor and raised the lone tower above it, planning it as a seat where he could found a dwarven community and grow old in peace, surrounded by happy, prosperous kin.” “Instead, doppelgangers, organized and aided by foul mind-flayers, slew and impersonated Durlag’s companions. After the shocked dwarf discovered the first impersonation, he was attacked by all the others and spent a terror-filled tenday frantically fighting through his own fortress, chased by monsters who wore familiar forms but sought his death. In the end, alone and victorious, he was powerless to stop the

139 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast fleeing illithids. Fearful they’d return, Durlag hired the finest craftfolk he could find and began to rebuild his tower and the tor beneath as an elaborate succession of traps, magical wards, secret passages, sliding prison chambers, and triggered weapons. For several centuries things went on like this, as the increasingly eccentric Durlag lived on fungi and, it is cruelly whispered, the bodies of intruders. At length he died, and presumably his bones still lie in some inner room, guarded by thousands of deadly traps.” “After having seen the first few rooms of the tower myself, I can say that it must be as dangerous as the legends portend. It is a fascinating place to visit and I strongly recommend that you take a tour. I must be off now. Farewell and enjoy the tour.” A woman from the village had been nervously standing near the table while he had talked. As soon as he left, she came up, introducing herself as Therella. “I have, or perhaps I should say had, a son named Dalton. He fell in with a crew of adventurers from Waterdeep. Dalton was always obsessed with the idea of being a hero. Alas, he has neither the brains nor the ability. Such is a mother’s lot in life however, to watch her children perform acts of idiocy despite her warnings or concerns” “My poor boy took those acts of idiocy to the extreme. He and his thickskulled cohorts took it upon themselves to plumb the depths of Durlag’s Tower. They bought a ward token from that shyster, Galkin, and made ready to leave. Though I begged and cried, Dalton still insisted on going. The band never returned. I fear that they were destroyed by the mad dwarf’s machinations. That is the tale, sad but true.” I agreed to help her if I could. It had already been over a month since I left Baldur’s Gate. I told myself another week wouldn’t matter. Besides Therella, I had also promised a dwarf staying in town, Hurgan Stoneblade, that I would recover a dagger from the tower, if possible. The kicker came when we exited the building. Ike, a tour guide, was touting a tour of the tower. “Step right up folks and hear the tale of dread placed before thee. Join with me as I, adventurer extraordinaire Ike Cascadion Vendar, lead yet another group of brave souls through the very seat of danger in the Realms. To Durlag’s Tower we shall go, and witness the perils that have taken the lives of hundreds of courageous men and women. See the horror of the treacherous traps; feel the presence of the long languishing dead; marvel at the wondrous wealth buried below! Not for the weak of spirit as I will not be held accountable for any heart failure during or after our expedition! Step up, step up! One at a time!” He noticed my interest, and pitched to me directly. “Ah, good people of noble blood who would throw down the gauntlet in the face of chance! Come see the lengths a man must go to protect what’s his. A special package deal of 60 gold for your entire group, not that you would need a discount.” “You have a deal sir! When are we to leave?” A guided tour to a dungeon, a concept I would never have come up with. It would be a unique way to introduce ourselves to the structure.

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“That will fill my quota for this trip. We leave forthwith! Remember to kiss your loved ones good-by, for you may never…see them…again! Meet me at the base of the tower! You would surely be killed without me, but fear not! Only I can enter where others fear to tread!” I decided not to travel with Ike, instead we would go on our own, and meet him at the tower. The term tower is something of a misnomer. Durlag’s work is a squat keep, stretching upwards for four floors. Just the aboveground portion looks well able to house more than a hundred dwarves, and all the supplies and amenities that implies. A strong curtain wall surrounds the keep. We were forced to fight off undead and other horrors as we approached the stronghold. Obviously, Ike must have some magical protection, for he had no hired guards. The resistance surprised me; I had been under the impression that Durlag’s Tower was mainly picked clean. I questioned the advisability of taking tourists to so dangerous a spot. “Tis about time you got here!” Ike impatiently greeted us upon our arrival. “I’ll wait no longer! The others are already inside! If you don’t follow me now, you forfeit your deposit! The tour will not be delayed for you! Now, let us get on with it.” We followed him through the main gate in the curtain wall, to where the rest of the tour waited at the Tower’s entry. “See how she looms before us as we draw near. Never before and never again will the like be seen. A monument to one man’s triumph…and his folly!” We followed Ike and the other tourists into the tower. “The tower, and labyrinth below, were built ages ago by the dwarven hero Durlag ‘Thunderaxe,’ for no less worthy a purpose than to be a home for him and his kin. His enormous fortune occupied entire rooms, rumored waist-deep on a man. The wealth he had accumulated was to be the backbone of his clan, but it was ultimately their downfall.” “Wow, this place is immense,” commented a tourist standing alongside me. “This Ike fellow, he’s rather wordy, ain’t he?” added a second. “I don’t care what Ike says, I wanna take a look around on my own,” said the first. Meanwhile, Ike was continuing his spiel. “The stories of his opulence spread across the land, and the most unsavory of creatures sought to make the tower theirs. All of Durlag’s kin and friends were replaced by dopplegangers, and he found himself killing the visage of those that he cared most, just to save himself. Who among you could bear that?! In the end he drove them from his now sullen home, and vowed that none would dare the same again!” We were in a circular room that formed the center of this floor. A spiraling stone staircase occupied the center of the room. Several small rooms opened off this central room. Ike had walked part way around the stairs to a new part of the room. “Durlag installed magical locks on the entrances to his inner sanctum, requiring ward tokens to pass. No doubt you have all been approached by unscrupulous merchants selling ‘genuine’ tokens to the tower. Indeed, I myself have several, but they are mere

141 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast souvenirs for the mantle. There are but a few authentic tokens, and they are rare and expensive.” “Those that passed the wards were confronted with the fruits of the paranoia that consumed Durlag. In this sitting room alone are some of the most fiendish devices of death known to man! Upon the wall a picture that, before it was ripped from its frame, caused those that looked upon it to freeze in their tracks for all time! Look with horror upon this hapless soul!” He dramatically pointed to a skeleton standing in front of an empty frame, although I wondered if Ike hadn’t put it there himself. “this chair,” he said, indicating a wooden armchair without a seat, “once sat in, would deliver an unholy spike to your nether regions. imagine the excruciating surprise of the unwary! Durlag went to lengths heretofore unknown to keep out intruders! We’ll take a small break here before moving on, good people. Please, for your own safety, touch nothing!” I noticed, at about the same time Ike did, a tourist entering one of the side rooms. Ike called out, “Touch nothing and no refunds!” Too late, I remembered the conversation I had overhead about ignoring the tour. A scream came from the side room. Yeslick and I hurried over to the room, but the trap that had been triggered had killed the hapless man. The two remaining tourists in the group were understandably quite anxious to leave the tower at this. Their mood was not helped by Ike’s lecture, “Be very careful about this tower, otherwise you’ll end up burnt alive like the other unfortunate tourist.” “I would speak with you a moment,” he said to me, motioning me to the side, “because there’s something different about you. I can tell you’re not buying the hyped-up crap I feed to most people. You’ve got a look in your eyes that says ‘I don’t believe in danger, I don’t know what fear means, and I will go where no sane person ever would!’ I think you’re just what I need. I have one of the true tokens to the dungeons below, but I am not half the fool I once was. ‘Tis yours for a measly 300 gold, on the condition that if you do not succeed, you return it to me.” “Why only 300 gold if it is the real thing? You said yourself that the genuine ones are very expensive.” “‘Tis a win/win deal for me. If you actually manage to defeat a few rooms, you get the gold and I get a new tour attraction. If you’re defeated, I get the token back, or at the very least I have your body as a new display. I can’t lose. Deal?” “‘Tis more than fair. I’ll take it sir, and give those dungeons what for!” “‘Tis good news for both of us! I’m not sure how far the token allows access, but it should be at least as far as the third floor down. Good luck eh, and remember our deal. You’d best go get stocked up, while I get back to my job. What…in the name of the gods is that!!!” An ogre-sized armored figure had appeared in the room. To my senses, the thing radiated evil like heat from a fire. Its deep voice when it spoke sent shivers up and down my spine.

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“Hello mortals, Death welcomes you. Here is now the property of I, and all others will fall or flee. Tour is over and tower is closed! All who enter will perish; all who enter will suffer pain. So speak I, and listen well you will. Tour is over!” It cast a fireball, then vanished. The fireball killed Ike and the two remaining tourists. While the creature had been speaking, Imoen had motioned the other members of the party out of the room, to the vestibule where we had entered the tower. The two tourists had been frozen in fear, and did not follow. I had suffered the full force of the blast, but had escaped with relatively minor injuries. I decided to first examine the floors above us before checking out whatever lay underground. Each floor of the tower was essentially laid out like the floor we now stood on, a central circular room with small rooms opening off it. On the next floor upward, we faced undead ghasts. More troublesome to our speed was the necessity for Imoen to carefully examine everything to see if it was trapped. The next floor up we ran into a human thief. “Not another step!” he cried at our appearance. “State yer name, and what ye are doing in this place!” “Rolanna will do for a name. Care to return the courtesy? Who are you?” “Riggilo is what I am called, and I do not care to share this place. Many more levels there are, and you should move on down. Trouble enough there is for both, without us competing for loot.” “I’ll share whatever I find with you.” “Ha! The day i would believe a dungeon-crawler would share his loot, is the coldest day the nine hells will have ever seen. Wander as you will, and if I ever see a coin from you I will be completely surprised.” On this floor, in one of the small rooms lining the periphery of the tower, we came upon a ghost. “Durlag…Durlag, my friend!” the ghost spoke to me. “You have returned, after age upon age. It is I, Daital, your friend of old. I have waited…waited long for your coming that I might help. My friend…” “Speak your mind, creature. What is it you want?” “I see you are as crotchety as ever to non-dwarven kin, though you yourself seem… taller than I recall. Perhaps it is me. I recall so little with clarity these days…years. I am here to serve as best I can…to repay the debt I owe... I barely recall how I incurred it, but repay I will.” “What is it you think you owe…me? What do you hope to repay?” “The debt? You know the debt… When the evil came and took the faces of your clan, when your friends and mine became evil unmatched…you protected and fought though it pained. I could not harm…I could not strike at the clan I called family… You fought them all…though it hurt you more… I was the lucky one, and was released from

143 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast the nightmare of life…the easy way. I will repay… You should know this…you should know! You have changed! You are not Durlag!” Having finally realized I was not Durlag, the ghost began to cast a spell. I leaped forward, swinging my weapon. Its magic was puissant enough to unknit the ephemeral strands of being of the ghost, which disappeared. I had the feeling I hadn’t permanently freed it, only temporarily prevented its manifestation. I actually found something to chuckle at when we sought out Riggilo again before continuing upwards. “You again? What is it now?” he asked suspiciously. “I’ve warned you once about bothering me. I’ve a good handle on some puzzles below and I don’t need you disturbing my thinking.” “Actually, I just wanted to share the wealth a bit. Here’s a little of what I’ve found so far. Fifty gold for your trouble.” “What is this, a trick? You’re trying to butter me up, and put me off my guard! You keep your gold and leave me to my work. Fifty gold. Bah! I picked more than that out o’ Durlag’s gutters! Fifty gold indeed!” On the floor above we met a beautiful woman. I was leading the party down a narrow passage when we saw one another. At sight of me she hissed in frustration. “A female? After all this time, and I am found by a female? Leave me, I cannot afford to waste my charms on you. Still, if you find you want to help a fellow vixen escape the chains that some fool man imposed on her, perhaps we could talk further.” “What manner of creature are you? This place has not been disturbed in hundreds of years. I trust you not!” I had a distinct impression of evil from her. “Time is of little real consequence to my kind. More important is that you mortals obey and behave! Such indignity that I have been trapped here since that fool Durlag disappeared, and now I have to deal with your rejection as well?! Durlag may have taken my wings and cursed me to remain here, but I’ve still a few powers his traps couldn’t strip! If I cannot leave, neither will you!” “Do your worst! I will see you dead!” “I shall repaint the walls with your blood! A little re-decorating will make the next hundred years a little more bearable!” However, she was the one whose blood soon stained the floor. Above us was only the top of the tower, open to the elements. To our great surprise, we found several greater basilisks waiting for us. It was a scramble, Imoen and Dynaheir casting balls of fire, while I ran forward to chop at them with my blade. Kivan shot arrows, aiming for their eyes, while Minsc tried to force his way forward from the rear of the party so he could add the weight of his two-hander. “Dynaheir! Nooooo! You will be avenged!” Minsc yelled out from behind me. After we had dispatched the creatures, I learned Dynaheir had been stoned by a single glance from one of the beasts. I still had some of the stone to flesh scrolls I had procured what was now months ago in Beregost, and Dynaheir was soon again among the living.

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“By The Three, I do not feel well inside,” said Dynaheir when freed from her petrified condition. When Minsc fussed over her, she tried to make light of it, saying, “Stand easy Minsc, thy needs not be so motherly. Must thou keep that rodent so close? ‘Tis surely unclean.” We decided to rest for a while before continuing. Having come as high as we could, it was time to go down. On the way, I verified that the main door to the tower was tightly shut. There would be no exit that way. I did not even consider other, more risky, options, such as trying to lower ourselves by rope from the top of the tower. The demon knight needed to be destroyed. Whatever its plans, I thought it would not be long before the people in the surrounding area began to suffer. Going downwards, the steps ended in another circular room below ground. A wounded warrior greeted us from where he rested against the wall. “*cough* Who…who are you? Ah, a wanderer not unlike meself. Best you turn and walk on, friend; this place does not accept visitors with grace. Better you are alive and leaving, like me.” “Who might you be? I did not expect to see others here.” “You should expect to see many more things that you did not expect. Heheh…ow… don’t make me laugh. I’ve a dart in me gullet doing some nasty things. My name is Bayard, and me friends and I came here just as you did. It looks a rewarding place, but I have decided it is beyond my ability.” “I will fare better, I am sure. I have a keen eye for traps and the like, and I’ve fought many a dastardly creature in the past.” “If you live long enough to fight the creatures that call this place home count yourself lucky. The very walls within will conspire to keep you at bay. Mere traps test only your dexterity, but this place is more than a simple doorknocker. Durlag was a sick, sick man, and I tell you that he meant to kill those that entered, not just hinder. Sure there be traps, triggered by wire or step or sound, but there are tests as well, tests he made to find friend or foe. You will need more than your agile fingers to escape what comes. Some traps give no second chance. Attention must be paid, or death will easily take you.” “You seem quite certain this place is dangerous. What makes you so sure, and why have you abandoned your friends to it?” “I have not abandoned my friends. Young they may be, but they are old enough to make up their own minds. I will not baby-sit anyone who can take up the sword to defend themselves. I say the risk, and if they wish to continue it is their own fate they decide. Me, I be thinking that it is better to live. This place is death. It is in the air, and it gets in your clothes. My friends, they say ‘by the gods, what is that stench?’ And I tell them; it’s the stink of death, citizens.” “One of your friends; they did not happen to be named Dalton, did they?” “You know the lad, or did his mother send you to check on him? She is a worrisome little parent, isn’t she? Perhaps rightly so, I worried about the boy too. He does not take much of this seriously, and when he realizes what he has been through it may be a rude awakening, to be sure. He is with my fellows, deeper than I wished to go. You may find

145 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast them if you search, but I think the way they went has been blocked. There be so many passages it seems Durlag felt he could afford to collapse a few behind the unwary.” “This place is not a ruin, it is not open to the ages; this place was designed to keep people out…or kill them. Even the simplest of doors seems locked with ward stones. If you enter here you had best be prepared to succeed or die. Ah, you have inspired a lecture from me, but your life is yours to do with what you will. I must go. Good luck to you, I do wish you well.” We found a secret door in one wall. Using our wardstone, we entered, finding ourselves in a stone hall. “‘Tis something most unnatural here and I want no part of it,” Imoen commented as she glanced around. As we explored this level, I came to agree with her. We faced phase spiders, what Dynaheir identified as greater doppelgangers, and ghouls. Most unusual were four warders that surrounded a sealed portal in the floor, which must lead deeper into the dungeon. They each posed a riddle, which we could only answer by investigating the rooms surrounding the hall. The first warder intoned: “I am the warrior’s curse I steal his future I mar his past The more he has, the less it seems He becomes a slave Of glittering things Yet I hunger—Feed me that which glitters beyond all else.” When we completed its riddle, it said, “I am Avarice. I will bring doom upon you in this cursed place.” The second warder: “I am the warrior’s bane I live in the darkness of his soul I bring him to his knees, Trembling and weeping Unable to lift a hand in his own defense Yet I sleep—Awaken Me” The completed riddle, “I am Fear. I will destroy you in this cursed place.” The third warder: I am the warrior’s fate I raise him above his brethren I amplify his deeds He becomes scornful, where once he had respect He becomes a giant, where once he was a man Yet I lack the proper honor—Raise me up in glory Through the chronicles of my deeds, pride shall be honored

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Through the passing of knowledge, my sword shall display its glory Then you shall know that I am well pleased The completed riddle, “I am Pride. I am the curse of this place.” The fourth warder: I am the warrior’s madness I curse him with trust and respect I slow the blade in its course By stealing his passion for blood And offering a softer emotion in return Yet I thirst for more—Give me the sweet crimson drink of laughter and passion. The completed riddle, “You are worthy to pass through this portal, though I yet guard the key with my life. I am Love. I must be murdered in this cursed place.” When we answered the last riddle, the warders attacked us. After we defeated them, we found a wardstone left behind that opened the closed portal. Martial prowess was as important as mental agility to solve the puzzles placed before us. We had also found an informative written fragment on this level, “It came to pass that the hero Durlag and his man-at-arms, Arlo Stoneblade, ventured into the bowels of the Great Rift. They fought the hideous tanar’ri Aec’Letec and with a single blow of his ax, Durlag slew the demon’s body and entrapped its soul in an enchanted dagger.” This must be a reference to the dagger Hurgan Stoneblade had asked us to find. The next floor down we had to relive scenes from the fall of the tower. Outside an arms practice room was a book, containing only a few sentences. Soft walks the trait’rous doppelganger Into my dear son’s practice chamber. Too young to fight, except to fall, Here died my son, young Fuernebol. Inside, the form of Durlag appeared to us, possibly repeating the actual last words Fuernebol had heard. “Ah, Fuernebol, my son. Trade your bow for a lute and play something mournful for your father, will ye?” “Why do ye hesitate, my child? ‘Tis your father’s face beneath this beard.” “Augh! Fire upon your very father, would ye, dwarfling? Thsss, don’t make me laugh!” “Durlag” changed form to that of a doppelganger, which we then destroyed. A second book was outside a bedchamber. Islanne, my wife, I love you still. ‘Twas just your form they made me kill. Foul mimic of the mortal man, ‘Twas in my shape they killed Islanne. Again, a doppelganger in Durlag’s form appeared when we entered the room.

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“Mm, Islanne. Your hair is down, my love…” “The torches gutter and darkness falls. ‘Tis time we slept, my sweetling…” “Islanne, my love, my love, my love, my thsss, my thssssss…” We finally entered a long hall, with a throne at one end. The expected book was here as well. Oh Kiel, Clan-prince of this dark tower, You made your death your finest hour. Moved ne’er by rage and ne’er by anger, Cold is the trait’rous doppelganger. The form of Durlag again appeared. “Kiel, my first-born, why so stern all the time? Come down from that throne and revel with your family for a spell.” “You and I have built ourselves a fortress here, son. The treasure lies safe and the Clan grows strong, so let down your guard a moment, fool…” “Thsss, Dwarfmeat, if you wish to fight then let us fight and be done with ye!” The only difference this time was three doppelgangers had appeared, in the forms of Islanne and Fuernebol as well as Durlag. We had to face more traps before we found the exit to the level. We also found the bier Durlag had created to his son, Kiel Legion-Killer. There was plainly something happening beyond the traps Durlag had created in his madness. It was almost as if the tower itself had developed sentience, and all adventurers were forced to face the same scenes. I tried not to ponder the implication for us, that as far as I knew no reports of what we had witnessed had reached the surface. More tests awaited us on the next level down. Most fascinating was a large natural chamber containing the bones of a colossal dragon, arcing overhead forming a second roof above us. As we entered, a skeleton addressed the party. “Greetings adventurers. So many of you have come down to loot the ancient basements of Durlag, yet none ever return. Adventurers are not known for their wisdom, otherwise they’d have chosen a safer profession. Take the five people that stand behind me, forever frozen in stone. Each one of these foolish men and women came to find Durlag’s treasure. Now they stand vigil over Durlag’s bestiary. Most of the other creatures have long disintegrated to dust, but the great wyrm known as Mechezarin still hangs in its original repose of death. Breathtaking, isn’t he?” “If you travel further into the room you will find the only living creatures that remain within the bestiary. These winged beasts have lived for centuries, augmented by ancient and powerful magics. None so far have been able to defeat them. However, if you wish to defeat the terrible beasts, there is help available to you. Each of the statues behind me houses the cursed body of some poor hero. By depressing the button at the base of each statue, you will release the ancient hero. The hero is enspelled to serve you for a short time, but after that time has run out he’ll take his revenge on he who dared command him. There’s nothing more for me to say. Goodbye now.”

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We hurried to activate all the statues. Our temporary companions crowded around, human, dwarf, ogre, even a sirine. “I am Moorlock. All that you need to know about me is that my skill as a warrior is unparalleled. Show me what monsters I might vanquish.” “I’m Tarnor. Let’s not waste any time with introductions, just show me what needs killin’ and I’ll get to work on them with my ax.” “I am Bullrush of the clan Blackmane. There is nothing that can escape the sting of my arrows. Show me your enemies so that I may kill them and drink their blood.” “Me Hack! Me crush enemies! Show Hack enemies to turn into mush!” “Greetings manling. I am Meiala, sirine warrior and enchanter. I have no peer among my people, and I will smite any enemy that we might come across.” I ruthlessly ordered them into the forefront of battle when we faced the three greater wyverns. I did not know how to permanently free them from their bondage, but since they must be defeated anyway, better they fell in battle than under our swords. Our final challenge on this level was a game of chess, with ourselves as living pieces on the board. I have heard that this game exists on many planes, sometimes known under another name, or with slightly variant rules. Once we had won the game, aided by the well placed fireballs of Dynaheir and Imoen, we were allowed to continue. We entered a hallway. Nearby was the form of Durlag Trollkiller, appearing this time as a ghostly figure rather than a doppelganger. We cautiously approached the form; as soon as we got close, it began to speak. “You have come quite far…not many live to speak…less live to leave… You are far from done... I hold surprises yet…seek direction in this place…when you understand the path…when you understand the course…you will be able to go on... You must be worthy to face what comes…there is evil here not built within…you must expel the new invaders...” “Who are you? Are you Durlag himself?” “Am I…Durlag? You have cause to wonder…you have seen traps and illusions and phantoms…but the spirit of Durlag has long since passed…to whatever fate the dark veil holds... This place…this place is his fear…his anger…his torment. You wish to conquer this place? You will have to understand what created it…remember well what you have already seen…or leave now and live life long and natural…three paths lead away…all must be taken...” In another room, we encountered the ethereal form of Durlag’s wife Islanne. “You have come far and seen much…but not all would stay…leaving is what I offer... Aggravate the spirit no more…leave this place and the madness it keeps…the world above is yours…the depths belong to the dead that will not let go...” “Thanks just the same, but I will stay.” “The light calls…you do not go…you are as stubborn as my Durlag... I will send when you wish…would that I could send the weight from his shoulders thus...”

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We had to face more tests, more challenges. In a hidden cave complex we found a horrid undead creature. When we entered the chamber where it hid, it called out to us. “Come you have to this cursed place? Fools you are, and doomed as well. Welcome to the damned. You will stay here, yes you will. I guard the withered corpse of that fool Durlag, because there is little else to do!” Surprised that one of the myriad undead we had to fight in these dungeons would speak to us, I mumbled a reply, asking what we could do to help. “Your goodness will not help me, or any of my kind. All in this place are beyond the help of mortals. I am Grael, and I like you I was. I fought the evil that dared to walk the earth, and this was the reward for me.” “Poor creature,” I said to myself, but Grael heard. “Poor creature? Poor creature?! Words of sympathy I not need! This place is an eternal tomb for the victims of battle long forgotten, and you offer pity?! Even untwisted I would laugh, but now I even hate! You who walk here just as I did; you will fall as I did from an enemy just as unthinkable! The difference is that Durlag will not be there to take the credit of victory! We fought the demon also! We fought also!! Legend speaks of him, not of undead also-foughts!” “An unthinkable enemy? Of what do you speak?” “An evil so grand only fools chase and fight. A Tanar’ri true and horrible. Its name you do not speak unless its attention you wish to bring. Long before it walked and stalked, long before even the fall of the tower. We fought along with Durlag to encase the evil away. His was the blow that won, and ours were the souls that lost. Here we stay, turned to evil and unredeemable, but heroes still and not to be killed! A cruel charity! Durlag is legend and we are a pity! Beware the gaze that is not a gaze, but a look into your soul!” “I wish I could help you and restore your hope. Is there nothing I can do before I go?” “Is there anything? You can do nothing! You can do nothing except…you can take my name from this place. You can take the memory of battle and my name and I will be free from the shadow of Durlag and that damnable demon. Fight now, that you can say true that we battle ferocious! You will take the memory from here!” This shadow of Grael fought with skill; if this was but a fraction of his ability, in life he must have been powerful indeed. It took the combined efforts of Minsc and me, attacking from opposite sides, as well as the prayers of Yeslick, the arrows of Kivan, and the magic of Imoen and Dynaheir to bring him down. I swore I would fulfill his last request, that his name not be forgotten from the world. As we solved the puzzles here, three times we were transported to a chamber containing four statues. Three of the statues merely spoke phrases when touched. “We were hired after the battles were done,” said the statue in the form of a human workman. “Durlag called upon us to make his visions true. We did our best, but his visions grew darker and soon we could not see. We waded through his fallen, and we

150 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast waded through his gold. Near the end, we feared for our lives, though not as much as he did. I was never truly sure whether he wished to keep the intruders out, or himself in. Both, I’ll wager. We were hired after the battles were done, and we did our best.” “This is not my face,” declared a statue, a dwarf whose form was blurred. “The invaders came and took my true face, burying it with my body and my comrades. I was among the last, but not the very last, and I saw the horror to come. My child rose against me, though it was no longer my child. It wore her face, but I knew her to be dead. The doppelgangers came from within, and we could not fight ourselves. Better to die than to kill ourselves. What would be left of a man that has had to kill his family…and himself? I was among the last, but not the very last.” “It began with usssss…and the mastersss,” intoned a stone doppelganger. “The tentacled ones directed and we assssaulted quietly with cover of night. We took of the weaker firssst, hiding amidsst the childrrren. None sssaw the arrival, none noticed the insssurrgence, and none sssurvived the final rissse. When Durlag realizzzed the deception it was tooo late! His own family sssought his life, and he ssslaughtered their falssse facessss. It began with usss, from the wessst.” The last statue asked a question to test our learning in this place, a single question to escape from this room, three questions asked for the three times we visited. With the help of the others, especially Imoen’s excellent memory, I was able to supply the correct answer to each. “My father roamed as I, and saw much of the world in his time,” was the first. “Well respected he was, but he had no home. At his end, he died in some far away land, with no dwarven kin by his side. I would not allow such to happen to me. I would not follow his steps that far. I would not be Durlag the clanless. This was my fear. Trace the path of this fear, and show me you have learned.” “It began with you and your need for a home,” I answered. “It grew with your clan, as you feared losing them. It manifested in the invaders that came, but you feared their coming already. It became your home, where it keeps you safe.” “With me it ended,” was the second. “Speak now of my troubles, to show you have learnt. From where did my pain come? Where did my pain stab home? Where did my pain take root? Where dost my pain reside? Speak and show that you understand.” “From the west it came, and then the south. The east held it next, and now it rests in the north.” “This is the end of things,” was the third. “Here I stood and struck them down as they came. My family and my clan, with their false faces; they dropped all pretense and drew their weapons against me. I fought them to the last, killing the shapechangers that had taken their forms. I cursed them for destroying the dream, but they were not the real evil. The real evil could not save my people before this deception. The real evil hid from life in the face of this tragedy. The real evil deserves the blame. This is the end of things. Answer where blame has fallen.” “The blame begins with the invaders, but they attacked with supposed good reason. It could be on your people, but they were in the shelter of your confidence. The craftsmen

151 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast only did their jobs as directed. In your eyes, you are the one to blame for all that has happened.” “You have understood. You may yet survive what I could not.” After this last answer, having passed all the tests, we returned to the shade of Durlag. “You will survive this place…you understand what built the hate…the fear... Now you must prevent it becoming worse…a creature below…powerful beyond all... You must remove…or it shall make this place its own…such a fortress…impenetrable if remade in his image...” “If there is evil to be fought, I will defeat it.” “There is always evil to be fought…within and without... Do as you will…the way is clear…follow me...” We followed, to where it opened a secret door. Revealed was a room, with a stair leading upwards in one corner. As we entered, a single female warrior called out to us. “Stop where you are! I’ve a bow trained on your neck and you’ll not live to reach me!” “Calm down, I am not your enemy. Who are you?” “Who am I? I am an idiot that thought I could assault this tower like it was some pissant kobold warren. You are a like-minded fool then? Best you make your will if you intend to stay. My fellows went forward but a short ways, while I rested here after a blow to the head. Dead, they are, and we will follow. My name is Clair De’Lain, and I should be dead.” “You must not give up hope. We yet live, and that means all is not lost.” “Hope? I lost hope when I heard their screams, and knew that I could not help. I cannot even attempt the creature that is to come. Have you not seen? Or heard? The worst is that it did not even bother to lift a finger itself. They fought themselves, or monsters shaped as such. I suppose it was fitting, given the history of this place. Don’t speak to me of hope. My friends are dead.” “What happened to those that were with you?” “We were neither weak, nor cowardly. Inexperience and stupidity brought us down. They went ahead while I rested only a moment, and I heard their deaths... I heard…I should not have brought such youth to this place. They were willing, but could not understand the danger. We can disarm traps and kill simple monsters, but true evil... I should not have brought them.” I declared simply that I must face what was ahead. “You have no idea what is ahead, do you? It is a Demonknight! A Demonknight!! Such a thing is as rare as it is evil! Alone it could destroy all of you, but that’s only if it decides you are worthy of the effort. My friends went ahead and challenged it like it was some shambling skeleton, and it laughed at them! It didn’t even bother to lift its sword!” “I will approach cautiously, but I cannot back down now.”

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“It will not matter. You still have no idea what you are going to face…no idea...” “Then tell me straight: what happened to your friends.” “They entered and challenged it, and it stared and did nothing. For a moment, they didn’t know what to do, and then it made a simple gesture with its hand, and all the hells broke loose. It created doubles of them all, and laughed as they literally killed themselves. I heard Dalton screaming loudest. I think he actually killed his double, but couldn’t handle the fact that he had to. He was the youngest... They didn’t know, and they missed the one shot they may have had...” “And what is this ‘one shot’ of which you speak? You have already said that you think the creature cannot be beaten.” “I’ve had some time to think about it. I couldn’t go forward and I couldn’t go back the way we came. That thing in there might even know I’m out here. I doubt it cares, but something it said made me think. The Mirror of Opposition it used must be very powerful…maybe it’s powerful enough to do the same thing to the Demonknight itself. The legends I’ve heard is that they have some resistances, but who knows with magic? The rules are not always carved in stone.” From her description I thought it likely Claire had actually been with them, probably guarding the doorway while the others charged forward to face the creature. I did not blame her that her nerve had cracked when she saw her friends slaughtered. But we had foreknowledge of what was to come. After resting, and casting preparatory spells, we moved onward. The room we entered was circular. A narrow walkway clung to the walls of the chamber. Four equally spaced stairs led from it to the main floor below. The demonknight stood at the center of the room. As per our prearranged plan, magically hasted, I ran directly towards the demon. The others grouped themselves near the entrance. “Spider says to fly,” the demon cried at our appearance, “‘The parlor welcomes.’ You have come to die, and I know best.” “I have come to put an end to your evil,” I answered, with my speed having come within swords reach of the creature while it spoke. “Of course you have. You have come to fight for right, and think it gives you strength. You shall be brave martyr, if they find your corpse. More likely none will know you died here, and you name will be forgotten. You are nothing in my sight, just as the whelps behind. You have served your purpose, and now will die.” “Served my purpose? I have done nothing for you!” I quickly looked around. A cloth-covered frame next to the demon must be the described mirror. “You have done just what I wished. I need a base that is fortified and secure, and I also do not wish my hirelings to die with every step. I bait some foolish adventurers in and they make the floors safe. They come this far and die, and I do not need to sully my hands removing traps. I need not dirty hands at all. Foolish flesh kills itself with my Mirror of Opposition. Durlag has built me a fine home, and you have been excellent maid

153 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast service. It is the duty of the flesh to toil and then be laid to rest. Perhaps you will forsake the flesh and return, but I doubt you to be that privileged.” “Turn your blasted mirror on me then! Hide behind your magic for now, but I will be coming for you next!” “A mere toy. There is value in the suffering it causes, but you will not have its gift. It is cracked and malfunctions, though it still does a measure of what is intended. I will repair it and await more adventurers who wish to test their resolve. You will have the honor of dying by my very hand, as reward for your unintentional service. You have descended deep and found naught but doom. Such a waste.” “Here you will fall!” yelled the demon, reaching for me. But, thanks to my magical speed, I was quicker. I scooted behind the frame, grabbing the cloth to remove it. I pushed my shoulder against one side of the mirror, turning it towards the demon, then pulled the cloth off. I then kicked the back of it as hard as I could. I was rewarded by the sound of breaking glass. “You foolish mortal!” screamed the demonknight in rage. “You have exposed us all to the mirror’s tainted effects! It is cracked and malfunctions! I will see you long- suffering before your death!” The mirror had created an image of the demonknight, which immediately attacked its original. The destruction of the mirror also created half a dozen twisted fiends, blurred humanoids that exactly mirrored no one in the room, but which were perhaps amalgams of every image ever reflected in the mirror. “Make way evil! I’m armed to the teeth and packing a hamster!” I heard Minsc yell from near the door. Seeing that the demonknight was busy with its double, I moved to help the party fight off the mirror fiends. Yeslick’s casting of dispel magic over them removed the blurriness from their forms, making them much easier to hit. By the time we had destroyed the last of them, the demonknight had defeated its double, but was so weakened we easily destroyed it. On the body was a dagger. This must be Soultaker. Now knowing something of its history, I carefully wrapped it in a cloth, putting it into my pack. In the rear of the chamber, we found Dalton, freed by the death of the demonknight from whatever enchantment had enthralled him “Who?! No!” he cried in fear when his senses came back to him. “Stay back! Stay away!” “Your name? Is it Dalton? Your mother sent us to find you. Your mother Therella.” “My…she…she sent you? Oh thank the gods and all that’s good! I just wanna…I just wanna go home.” “Then get moving! The way is clear behind us. Stay calm and you’ll get out just fine.” “Gotta go…gotta go now! AAAAHHHHHH!” Dynaheir broke into a rare smile at the rescue of Dalton. She formally clasped my right forearm with her hand, saying, “Thou art right indeed. After my own heart.”

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We left the chamber. Clair De’Lain stared at us in amazement. “You…you made it! Dalton ran out faster than I’ve ever seen him move. Did anyone else…no, they are dead, aren’t they? At least Dalton’s mother will sleep well tonight. I doubt he’ll be going on any more adventures anytime soon. Neither will I, for that matter. At least you stopped the demonknight, though…though it worries me. I have heard that such creatures serve powerful beings even more evil than they, if such a thing is possible. I…I should go.” We returned to the shade of Islanne. “There is a presence here…no longer... You have killed what could not be…another intruder that came to take…gone as they should be... Would that the sorrow was lifted as well…he is stubborn, my Durlag…this place will wax and wane in time…regret will not last forever... You can leave when you wish, I will send you...” “Yes, I need spend no more time here. Send me to the surface.” “Back to the sky and the light with you... Here will stay the ghost of failure…my strong, stubborn Durlag... Let the ages take the weight away…as swiftly as I send these children…” The demonknight had spoken of our clearing the traps from the tower for its followers. I thought it had it backwards. It was possible the tower reacted to a threat it couldn’t defeat, and reduced the severity of its traps and tests, so that a powerful party could survive and be able to face what it couldn’t handle. If so, future adventurers, avoid Durlag’s Tower.

Aec’Letec On the way back to the village of Ulgoth’s Beard we stopped in Beregost. Little had changed, although we met officer Vai packing up to leave. She had a few words for us. “Thank you, Rolanna. Your efforts have not been in vain. I just received new orders from the city: my contingent and I have been asked to return there and make our reports. You will figure prominently in them and I assure you that our accounts will be favorable.” When we entered Ulgoth’s Beard, several robed figures stopped us. The lead one held up his hand. “Heathen! You are those that have retrieved the dagger ‘Soultaker’ from Durlag’s tower. You must give me the dagger now.” “We will never give you the dagger!” “It will be mine!” They attacked. A couple of invisible assassins struck the flank of the party, one nearly killing Dynaheir. At the end of the combat, after we had killed all our opponents, I realized the dagger Soultaker was gone from my pack. Another invisible figure must have lifted it in the confusion. They must have used magical scrying to detect its location.

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I sought out Hurgan Stoneblade, who was still staying in town. I explained what had happened. “It is as I feared. Listen to me, we haven’t much time. The ones who stole the dagger from you are the same that released the demon that killed me granda. Me granda was killed by a tanar’ri, a nabassu to be precise. The one who stole it from you is a member of a cult that worships this beast as a god. Many centuries ago, when me granda adventured with Durlag, they fell foul of the tanar’ri, which had been released on our plane by the cult. Durlag and me granda defeated the tanar’ri, though granda was mortally wounded, and they entrapped the demon’s essence in a dagger. Me da later found a way to destroy the dagger and the beast within, but tragedy befell Durlag before he could send the dagger to me clan.” “Ye must find the cult. Ye must retrieve the dagger that I might destroy the beast. If the cult manages to free the demon then it must be killed before it visits destruction upon our land. Go and get the dagger. Quickly!” It such a small village it was not difficult to determine which building the cult had made into their own. It had been a shop; when we approached, half a dozen cult members stood outside the door. We had to kill them to force entry. Inside, the shop looked much as it must have before the cult bought it. Here, we killed more cult members. We raced downstairs, into the shop’s basement. Cult members were grouped in a circle about a pattern painted on the floor. Nearest us, a woman turned to face our direction. She held Soultaker above her in two hands, a wicked smile on her face. She cried out, “Welcome to the awakening! Your souls shall feed the beast that comes.” “You have come,” she said more calmly, cradling Soultaker to her bosom. “I suppose it was inevitable. You weathered Durlag’s Tower, so breaching our meager defenses would be a minor feat. It is of little concern. In a matter of seconds creatures such as you will be powerless before us.” “By all that is right and holy, you will not succeed!” I cried, running forward. “By all that is loud and windy, will you please shut up! You can pose all you wish, but you have failed! Here will come the new lord, despite your slogans! Here will come the new lord, despite your puny weapons! Here will come the new lord, Aec’Letec! Born of the nine hells, let he who was imprisoned walk the prime! The dagger is broken! I release you!” Her tiny hands snapped the dagger in two. She yelled in ecstasy, “A new age comes! Bow before the new lord!” I reached her, cutting her down with a blow of my sword, but it was too late. A demon formed in the center of the circle, a man and a half high creature of destruction. I turned to face it. It had tremendous power. Even blows I blocked with my shield numbed my arm. My return strikes, even with the full force of my arm behind them, caused only minor wounds. Worse was the thing’s gaze. Every time it fell upon me I felt a little of my vitality being leeched away. Yeslick was behind me, healing my wounds as best he could, but he was slowly falling behind. I switched to fighting defensively long

156 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast enough to call upon the protection from evil my inherent powers granted me. Bolstered, I began to gain the upper hand against the tanar’ri. I had almost destroyed it when suddenly all of its wounds healed. Simultaneously, one of the cultists died; some link had been established that allowed the devil to draw on the lifeforce of its followers for healing. Dynaheir must have realized this, for she called out to the others to kill the cultists, who they had been largely ignoring. This was swiftly done, and they were free to concentrate again on my opponent. This time when it faltered, it had nothing to fall back on. With a final thrust, I buried my sword in its breast, banishing it from this plane. We returned to Hurgan Stoneblade. “Is the deed done?” he asked. “The Tanar’ri is dead. We need no reward for the task, as it was something that needed to be done.” “I have misjudged the cult’s power. I never believed them capable of freeing the tanar’ri. Ye have destroyed it for now. Eventually it will be able to return to this plane. Rest easy my friends. Ye did all that ye could do. Ye saved the Sword Coast from a demon. Farewell.” I did have the pleasure of informing Therella that her son Dalton had been saved. I later heard that soon after returning home Dalton had signed on with another adventuring band, the young idiot. We rested overnight in the village. It was time to return to Baldur’s Gate.

Investigations As soon as we entered Baldur’s Gate I received my first hint of trouble. A man stopped me in the street. “Ah, Elminster told me you’d pass by this way soon enough. Looking into the Iron Throne, are we?” “Elminster…?” “Tedious old fellow, isn’t he? I suppose I would be, too, if I lived to see as many centuries as he has... But enough talk of the good, Rolanna. I have come to tell of the dark—You have a very special heritage, child, one that graces you with more enemies than friends, I fear. This city holds many secrets and dangers and, as you have rightly come to suspect, the Iron Throne lies somehow at the core of it all. Your investigations will not go unnoticed nor, like as not, unpunished. I urge you to curry the favor of Scar and Duke Eltan, both of the Flaming Fist, as they are good men at heart and capable of providing you with some guidance and protection in this urban vast... But I tarry here too long. It is best we not be seen together.” I hurried to the Elfsong inn, to seek out Jaheira. She told me the city was rapidly approaching a crisis. Both the Seven Suns and Merchant League, commercial rivals of the Iron Throne, had been strangely supine. They should have been taking every

157 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast advantage of the blows we had dealt their rival; instead, they were quiet. Worse, the question of war with Amn was to be brought before the Duke’s Council for consideration. Jaheira thought it had no chance of passage, but a month back she would have said there was no way it could have even have come forward as a question. Unconsciously echoing the suggestion I had heard entering the city, she suggested I talk to Scar. She also had reports of Iron Throne activity in a building near the harbor. I decided to check out these reports first. I would take Imoen, Kivan and Yeslick with me. I also asked Jaheira and Khalid to accompany us. I knew Jaheira had a keen interest in seeing the Iron Throne’s plans defeated, and I thought it time she played a more direct role. The building was a trap. Ogre mages awaited us inside. Before they attacked, one called out, “Little pink ones, you shall all die. The son of Murder offers 10000 gold for the head of Rolanna, and we shall have it.” Our opponents were not difficult to defeat. I was more worried by their employer, the “son of murder.” The title itself was too cryptic to tell me much, but the mere fact of the attack proved Gorion’s assassin had not fled, but instead was still around, and still seeking my death. Scar, commander under Duke Eltan of the Flaming Fist, had suggested I investigate the Seven Suns. At the time I hadn’t taken the request too seriously, but with the apparent resurgence of the plans of the Iron Throne I needed all the support from the authorities I could get, which doing this task would advance. In addition, it was likely that I would find clues at the Seven Suns, since they hadn’t done anything to counter their mercantile rival, the Iron Throne. When we entered the Seven Suns, I engaged a merchant who had just been leaving in conversation. I insisted I needed to talk to the head of the organization, while he insisted that would be impossible. He was pale and sweating, which made me wonder if he didn’t suspect my purpose. That was not the case, as I found when he decided to warn me. “Listen here. There have been some strange things happening about the Seven Suns, but I’d rather not talk about it. Everybody I know has been acting really strange as of late. I’ve seen some of the other merchants change faces when they thought I wasn’t looking. Yes…you heard me right, they changed faces! Some sort of shapeshifters have infiltrated the Seven Suns. If I were you, I’d get out of here while there’s still time, that’s what I’m planning to do.” With that, he hurried out the door. Two other merchants were in the room we had entered. I moved over to talk to them. “So you have come to visit the Seven Suns, have you…?” asked one. “Yes, I’ve got your face now but not your name…” “We are the party of Rolanna, though I don’t know why it might interest you.” “Yes, indeed, how…interesting. And what of these people about you? Do they know you well?” Intuition told me not to answer truthfully, but to dissemble. “To tell you true, we are but strangers traveling together this brief while out of mere convenience.”

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“Ah, I have dreamed of loners such as yourself and each time woken with a groaning belly.” “Pray tell me what about my lowly person could make a merchant and his many purses dream?” “Come, my brother. It seems that a feast has been set before us. Let us eat before it cools.” They transformed into the natural form of doppelgangers. Having encountered many of their kind in Durlag’s Tower, I did not experience the stunned surprise they no doubt had been counting on. We easily killed them. Upstairs, we killed two more of the creatures. Finally, we walked down to the basement, killing another doppelganger. Also in the basement we found a human in a cell, suffering from the aftereffects of torture. Doppelgangers generally did not radiate evil, but I felt I was beginning to get a feel for them, a subconscious indication that there was something wrong with the person I was talking to. I got no such impression from the prisoner. “Well, you’ll get naught from me this day,” he said wearily when we had opened the cell, “not a cry of pain nor the knowledge in my noggin. Get away from me shapeshifter scum.” “We’re not the shapeshifter you speak of. We’re friends, sent by Scar to see what’s been going wrong here at the Seven Suns. Who are you?” “You know Scar? I’m Jhasso, a friend of his and the owner of the Seven Suns. You have to help me get out of here!” “It’s good that we found you, now we can find out what’s been going on here. Before we take you anywhere could you tell us what has been going on?” “Those creatures, the shape shifters, started infiltrating the Seven Suns some months ago. They must have started with some of the less important members of my coster. Eventually they captured me and their leader took my face. They’ve been keeping me alive in order to gain information that they need through torture. I don’t know what their purpose is, but they have been running my business very badly. All of you will be well rewarded for rescuing me. When you meet Scar again, he will give you my reward. I must be off now, as there is much of the monsters work to be undone. I assume you’ve dealt with the other monsters upstairs; if you haven’t I’ll get the Flaming Fist to clear out the rest.” We immediately went to the Flaming Fist headquarters. Scar was available, and saw us right away. “I am glad to see you have returned, so what news do you bring me?” “Doppelgangers had taken over many of the higher echelons in the coster. The monsters are all dead now, slain by us.” “You have done very well! I will be doubling your wages for the heroic service you have provided to this city. We must keep in touch, I may need your help in investigating the Iron Throne.” He sent a clerk to get our reward, then a thought seemed to strike him.

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“I have another job you may be interested in. You’ll be well paid for your services, care to hear more?” “We’re always interested in more work.” I needed Scar on my side, so I was quite willing to help him out. “What does it entail?” “The problem is this: Every night people have been disappearing from the streets of the city. My men have been scouring the city trying to find the culprit, but so far to no avail. People have begun to get scared, and very few are willing to leave their homes at night. Something has to be done and fast. Would you be willing to take the job, I’d pay you 300 gold in advance with a 1000 gold bonus if you discover what’s been happening with the disappearing citizens. What do you say?” “We agree to your terms.” “Your job is really simple; all I want you to do is patrol the east of the city. Perhaps you’ll get lucky and find out what’s been happening. If you do find out what’s been happening, come to see me at the Flaming Fist barracks. Our only clue so far has led us to the sewers, so if you want to explore them first, it would probably be a good idea. Also, we’ve found tracks of some many legged creature, perhaps a centipede like monster.” Yeslick suggested that if we were going to explore the sewers we might as well enter them where we were. The Flaming Fist headquarters is located in the western part of the city, so we might have a long trek underground, but at least if there was anything to find we should know of it. We found a grate in the street; levering it up, we climbed the crude ladder revealed downwards. Imoen cast a spell to light our way. It was too bad she did not have magic capable of suppressing the smell. We formed a single file, since only a narrow ledge at the side of the tunnel was above the flow of liquid waste. We had just shaken out the marching order when a strange procession shuffled into view. There were ogres and humans, and stranger creatures, pacing slowly as if mesmerized. Among them was a slime, slowly advancing with waves of undulations passing through its semi-liquid body. Surprisingly, the surface of the slime began to vibrate, creating a voice in which it spoke to us. “Halllt, my chilldren— We have guesssts among uss... Ah, yess, I can ssense you, now, and your lllleader— A chillld of books, you werrre... Aye, bookss are good... And a chillld of fffate... Heeee, I havve heard of you, Rolanna, I havve heard yourrr name whisspered downn these stony halllls, wherrre the drip of waterrr mingllles with the gurgllling of the dead... They have wanted you dead, you know!” “Who are you and who are these shambling creatures that you surround yourself with?” “Who amm I, whoo indeed... It has been so llllong since I had hideous fform and— and shape lllike you... Hah, in yourrr mind, I see things I recognize therrre, a place you calllled home, once...” “Candlekeep. Until this springtide it was the only place I had ever known.”

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“Candlllekeep... I was therrre, wassn’t I... Yes, when I wass in my younger forrrm, when I wasss a mage so proud offf my talllent, of my craffft... But I transcended that llong ago and llleft it behind...“ “Who has wanted me dead? Have you?” “Who, Schlumpsha? No, not I, not yet, but yourrr death iss so tempting, now, so near... I can alllmost taste it on you, chilld.” “What death do you taste on me, Sewer King?” “A death foretollld, a death pllanned forr by the gods themselllves, heeee! But I’lll not telll you more, not Schlumpsha, not the faithfulll sewerkin, nooo...” “Now tell me my hunter’s name that I might know him.” “You have met him before, you havve, maybe twice, even, and you shallll meet him four times befffore the ennd... Heee, you shalllll meet him four times beforrre the end, yes!” “Thank you, Schlumpsha. Your prophecies are harsh but their truth is not immutable. I shall face them as I can.” “Heee, I havve tollld you enough but I have not tolld you alllll... The sewersss may cllaim you, Rolanna, but I shalll not.” I let Schlumpsha and its strange followers disappear down the tunnel, not quite sure what to make of its prophecies. We continued onward. I became much more familiar with the waste disposal system of Baldur’s Gate than I ever would have chosen. Surprisingly, the sewers directly connected at several places with the Undercellar brothel. We also found one secret entry that by its location must enter the headquarters of the Flaming Fist, although I didn’t open it to find out. We had walked to a section under the far eastern end of the city when we found the one responsible for the murders, an ogre mage and its collection of carrion crawlers, multi-limbed scavengers. The ogre mage was not impressed with our appearance. “So, some puny surface dwellers have come to their death. It’ll just be extra treasure for my collection. My pets have been causing much anguish in your surface realms, haven’t they? They have been so useful at collecting the surface pinklings. My pets use the flesh for food and I get the pretty treasure! My pets, kill these intruders.” Instead, it was the ogre mage and its pets that soon lay dead. We returned to Scar. “It’s good to see you again, how have things gone?” “We learned that an ogre mage holed up in the sewers was responsible for all the disappearances. He had several carrion crawlers that would steal out at night to carry off random victims. The crawlers used their hapless prey as food, whilst the ogre mage took any valuables they might have.” “You’ve done a good job and earned your bonus in full. I’m going to need some people to do some investigating of the Iron Throne. If you wish to discuss the Iron Throne, just come talk to me.”

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After tramping around in the sewers most of the day it was late; besides, I was looking forward to a good bath to clean the stench off myself. Early the next day we again met with Scar. He was pleased to see me. “Hello Rolanna. I have another job for you. This one involves a group you have dealt with in the past—the Iron Throne. Duke Eltan himself wishes to speak to you about this. Will you come with me?” “Of course we’ll come, especially if we have an audience with the Grand Duke.” I was glad I had taken the opportunity to bathe. “Just follow me, I’ll take you to the Flaming Fist compound. The Grand Duke is waiting for us.” We followed him upstairs, to a small combined office and living quarters. An imperious, older man was awaiting us. “Let me introduce you to Grand Duke Eltan,” said Scar, “one of the lords of the city, commander of the Flaming Fist and member of the Lord’s Alliance.” “I am glad to see that you have come.” The Duke motioned me into a chair. “I know that such a meeting is unusual, but in these circumstances it is necessary. I would first ask what involvement you have had with the merchant society known as the Iron Throne?” “We’ve learned that they’re involved in a plot that threatens the stability of your city.” “From what I have been told, you have been quite a thorn in the side of the Iron Throne. I’m interested in you, because of the obvious hatred that they hold for you. Their recent activities have been brought to my attention, and I am very dubious about the intent of the Throne. I think it is far too easy to blame the recent caravan raids and iron shortage on the Zhentarim. Though the evidence does point to them, they do not have much to profit, while the Iron Throne has everything to gain.” “I have much to concern me right now,” Duke Eltan continued, “especially with tension rising between our city and the nation of Amn. Unfortunately my hands are tied; I can’t act against the Iron Throne until I have hard evidence of their wrongdoing. That’s of course where you come in. I need a small group of spies to break into the Iron Throne headquarters and see if they can find any proof of the Throne’s involvement with the caravan raids. If you do this for me you’ll be paid extremely well; 2000 gold to divide among yourselves. What is your answer?” “Consider us hired!” “You have made a wise decision. It is a difficult mission that I give you, but I am sure that you have the wherewithal to make it through. Return and report to me once you feel you have enough information to use against the Iron Throne.” “We’ll be back as soon as possible.” Jaheira had been able to determine that the leader of the Iron Throne in Baldur’s Gate was Reiltar Anchev. His main lieutenants were the half-orc Brunos Costak, Thaldorn Tenhevich, and Reiltar’s son, Sarevok.

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We entered the Iron Throne headquarters, a tall building not far from the headquarters of the Flaming Fist. As we entered, an individual practically ran into us in his haste in leaving. I held out my hand to halt him, asking what was wrong. “Out! Away! Fly while you can! There be madness here and I can stand it no longer!” “Calm down and explain yourself, good sir, that I might understand you better.” “Calm down? Calm down while Sarevok’s acolytes practice their magic cacophony above me? I dare say not, stranger! I dare say not at all!” He ran around me, out of the building. I moved towards the stairs. A guard intercepted us. “Welcome to the Iron Throne citadel. Could you please state what business brings you here.” “We’ve business with your leaders.” Jaheira had suggested a cover story to explain our presence. “We’ve just come from Sembia and are quite weary, so if you would just step aside we would be grateful.” “Strange…we’ve not been told about you, but no matter, you may come in.” We climbed the stairs to the next floor. Since the main entry hall was two floors high, this floor only consisted of a balcony looking down into the main hall. Another guard stopped us here. “Where do you think you’re going?” “Sarevok asked us to deliver an important message to his acolytes,” I improvised. Behind me, Jaheira growled under her breath about idiots who should know to stick to prepared stories. “Hmph. Better you than me. Working with that crowd can be downright creepy, some days.” “Creepy? How do you mean?” “I seen people go up there with—with one face and…and come back down with another. I don’t know how else to say it— I got a keen eye for faces, I do, and I think— I think them people going up and down know it, too, ‘cause one time one of them caught me looking at him and he winked right at me and the…and he changed the colors of his left eye, right as I was watching him! It started out a chocolate brown but then it went all quicksilver for a moment, like the mercury the mages play with, and then he was gone and out the door, laughing his high-pitched laugh.” “Who are these people?” “Competition of the Iron Throne. Mostly members of the Seven Suns cartel or the Merchants’ Consortium. They have both been attempting to negotiate a tentative peace between the different economic powers in the city. I fear it’s not peace they’re finding, however…at least not of the type they came looking for. Something’s going on upstairs and I’d rather not think about what it could be.”

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The next floor was unwalled, tables covering the floor in preparation for a banquet, although only a few people were in the room. One, an older man, scowled at me and walked over, pointing his finger. “Wait a moment. Could you please tell me where I could find Reiltar. It’s important that I speak to him. I’ve been given the run around too long. Reiltar’s damn son, Sarevok, seems to think he’s in charge here.” “We must ask for a name before we go telling the whereabouts of Iron Throne high ups,” I answered, playing along with his mistaken assumption. “I’m Nortuary, and your Iron Throne ‘high up’ answers to me! I’ve just arrived from Selgaunt in Sembia. The council wishes to know how things are faring. Now tell me where I can find Reiltar!” “Actually, we don’t really know where he is at the moment. We apologize for any inconvenience we might have caused you.” “Damn it, is anyone competent here!” Interesting. The local branch likely had not reported the many failures they had experienced recently to their superiors. As I was mulling this over, a woman dressed in expensive clothes came up to me. “At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance. The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help.” “Of course. How may I assist you, Ma’am?” “Ma’am this, Ma’am that, I have little desire to suffer through more of your flat gentility. You may call me Emissary Tar and direct me towards the nearest staircase. I have some important business to conduct on the fifth floor on behalf of the Grand Dukes.” “Please, whatever your business there may be, I urge you to reconsider.” I had an uneasy feeling what we, experienced adventurers, might find there, let alone a defenseless woman. “I have a bad sense about this place and would worry for your safety there.” “How foolishly chivalrous of you but I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Besides, I have an iron treaty to negotiate with Thaldorn and the Grand Dukes would hardly be pleased if I abandoned such an important duty for the likes of you, now, would they? If you insist on being as much of a boob and a dimwit as the others, then I shall find the silly stairs on my own.” I had to let her go. This was too important to tip my hand prematurely, and possibly allow someone to escape. We climbed the stairs to the next floor. The area near the staircase was set up as a bar; several merchants were savoring drinks. Nothing looked out of place. One of the merchants, who had just gone to the bar for a refill, called out to us.

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“Ah look, some newcomers. I assume that the lot of you has just arrived with new supplies from Ordulin. If you’re looking for Reiltar or Brunos, look no further. Both of them have traveled to Candlekeep on important business.” A single door separated the bar from the rest of the building. This door now opened, a short, harried looking man hurrying through it. He consulted some papers in his hand, then peered in my direction, frowning. He came to a decision, scurrying over to me. “Mm, hello. You must be the city negotiators... Lemme see on the list, here: Emissary…Emissary Tar? Right on time and a pleasure to meet you. My name is Destus Gurn, Assistant Chief Accountant for the Iron Throne’s operations on the Sword Coast. Now, just a quick briefing on our negotiating procedures before you head on up the stairs: Thaldorn will be accompanied by a board of six Iron Throne advisers sent to us from abroad: Zhalimar Cloudwulfe, Gardush, Naaman, Diyab, Aasim, and Alai, all of them quite respectable men and eager to meet you. We also have a seventh member on that board, today, a Mr. Lyle Espejo. He is there to ensure that things go smoothly in this time of transition. As for the agenda—” “Please, Mr. Gurn, I have my own copy of the agenda and no desire to waste any more time here than necessary. If you would be so kind as to allow me to proceed upstairs to the negotiations, I would be very grateful.” “Yes, true, very well then, Emissary Tar. Proceed upstairs and don’t allow me to keep you here a moment longer. Great things are afoot and I am very proud to have met you on behalf of the Iron Throne and I hope, for everyone’s sake, then, that the… negotiations…proceed swiftly, yes, thank you.” He stared at me a moment, his eyes wide, then nervously gulped and hurried away. We climbed the stairs. At the top, we found six individuals and Emissary Tar. I should say, an emissary Tar, since I strongly suspected this was not the woman we had just met. “Fear my wrath, for it is great indeed!” roared one of the men. “Who dares intrude upon our negotiations?” “My name is Rolanna.” The time for playacting was over. “I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions.” “Rolanna, you say? Ah yes, Sarevok warned us you might try to meddle. That meddling will stop here, however.” “And who are you to say so? I’ve crushed all those before you!” I felt a great rage stir. I held them as accountable as those actually present for the death of Gorion. “Those before us were fools, as you are. Those before us were weak, as you are. Those before us were not Zhalimar, or Gardush, or Naaman, or Diyab, or Aasim, or Alai. Those before us are dead, as you will be. So it has been decreed; so it shall be done. So orders Sarevok!” He began casting a spell. The false emissary transformed back into its natural doppelganger form. I charged into their midst, cutting right and left with my sword. I hadn’t noticed, but Jaheira had cast a charm for protection from fire upon me while we had stood exchanging threats. This allowed Imoen to cast fireballs into the group about me, without

165 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast endangering my life. Backed by the bow work of Kivan and Khalid, as well as Yeslick’s prayers, they were swiftly defeated. On the body of the man who had spoken I found a scroll. I have a task for you and those you have selected. You, the first of the faithful, are to stand ground in my stead. Be assured that I would not belittle your devotion with simple guard duty. This chore is of particular interest to me, and thus, to you. Rolanna has become as a thorn in my side. I wish it removed. Do so, and you shall please me greatly. Such is your charge. Do not fail in this. Sarevok Sarevok, or more likely his father, Rieltar, had been responsible for Gorion’s death, and the attempts on my life. We searched the other rooms on this floor. In one, we found the body of the real Emissary Tar. In another, we found a man cowering under a table. “What are you doing here?!?” he blustered when we wrinkled him forth. “Get out of this building before I call the guards.” “We can’t do that until you answer some questions.” “You’re here to kill me aren’t you. You can’t kill me! Do you know who I am? I’m Thaldorn, one of the leaders of the Iron Throne.” “Where can we find documents that will implicate your organization for its involvement with the bandit raids and iron shortage? Tell us or die.” “Please don’t hurt me! You can find everything you need with Reiltar, he’s the true leader of the operation. He always carries everything on his person. Am I free to go?” “If you tell us where the leaders of the Iron Throne are located, we might let you go free.” “The other leaders, Brunos and Rieltar, they’re at Candlekeep, attending business with some benefactors from the south. Will you let me go now, please?” I let him go, although if he didn’t quickly leave the city I didn’t doubt the Flaming Fist would pick him up. In another room I found a couple of letters. Father, I received your letter, and I can assure you that the mercenaries led by Rolanna will no longer trouble our operations. I have dealt with them personally. Before dying, they were most forthcoming in their revelations; it is as you had surmised; they were agents of the Zhentarim. I am also writing to tell you that I cannot attend the meeting at Candlekeep. Some problems have arisen with The Chill and the Black Talons. They have had trouble working with each other, and I am needed there to smooth over any dissension. I am sorry that I will not be at your side. Sarevok

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Reiltar, My superiors are intrigued by your proposal. I would like to discuss it further, but not through correspondence such as this. The Harpers and Zhents have been very active in this region as of late; it would be very unfortunate if they tried to disrupt an alliance between our two organizations. If you, Bruno, and Thaldorn were to meet with us in the safety of Candlekeep, my superiors would be much relieved. Please send a response as soon as possible. Tuth We returned to Duke Eltan with this evidence. He asked me to summarize what we had found. “We know that any incriminating evidence would be found with Reiltar, the overall leader of the Iron Throne in Baldur’s Gate. He’s currently supposed to be at Candlekeep on some sort of business.” “Then there is only one thing to do,” said Duke Eltan, “travel to Candlekeep and learn what they’re doing there, whatever it is, it can’t bode well for the fortunes of this city. Take this book. Without it, the Keeper of the Portal won’t allow you entrance into the library. Here also is the reward money that I had promised you.” I looked at the book. It was titled, “History of the Nether Scrolls.”

Return to Candlekeep Several days later found me outside the main gate of Candlekeep. Imoen, Jaheira, Khalid, Kivan and Yeslick still accompanied me. The others would keep on eye on matters in Baldur’s Gate. We announced our presence, and the Keeper of the Portal came out to talk to us. I handed him the tome given us by Duke Eltan. He briefly examined it, then said, “You have met the requirements to gain entry to our most holy library. It is fine to see the child of Gorion once again within these hallowed grounds. Please have your less civilized friends refrain from causing trouble. We are very strict with the letter of the law, as you well know, Rolanna.” It was late, but I took the time to seek out some of my old friends. The first I ran into was Dreppin, who looked after the animals. “Rolanna!! I didn’t think you were ever coming back! What’s it like out there?” “It’s big. I don’t know how else to put it. I lived my entire life within these walls and in the past while I’ve seen fifty times as much as these walls could ever hold. It’s weird, though: all that space and barely a book in it. I never realized how special Candlekeep really is.” “Yeah, people come from all over to see the books here. All sorts of folks, too: bards, nobles, priests, mages. Volo’s even been here and Elminster, too, remember. A couple of just plain old merchants even wandered in the other day. Said they were with the Iron Throne and were here to do some business. They’re still around, last I heard.” I found the scholar Phlydia wandering the grounds.

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“Oh! Why hello. Have you seen my book…Wait. No, you found that already, didn’t you? Oh, I just don’t know anymore. You haven’t been around lately, have you...” “No, I haven’t been back since Gorion died...” I was actually kind of glad she was still her old scatter-brained self. “Gorion! Why yes, of course! I’m sorry, I’ve made a boor of myself again... Gorion was a good and wise sage and he obviously raised you with better manners than I would have been able to.” I also looked up Hull, one of the guards. “Now there’s a face I never thought I’d see again in a million years. When we heard about Gorion’s passing, Fuller and I went out to gather his body but you were nowhere to be seen. I don’t know what you two came across that night but Gorion died a noble death saving you from it.” “Thanks for taking care of his remains, Hull. I didn’t have the means. Someday we’ll sit down over a mug of ale and I’ll tell you about it.” I looked up Fuller at his post in the infirmary. “Well I’ll be! If that isn’t someone with a tale to tell, I don’t know who is. What have you been up to this past while?” “I don’t know, I guess I just took the long route home: The Friendly Arm, Beregost, Nashkel, Baldur’s Gate...” “The Gate, is it? I hear that, if you can stand the smell, the night-life’s great! You’re taking me on an all-expenses-paid tour of the place, someday, you realize...” I was nearing Candlekeep’s small inn when a visitor I didn’t recognize hailed me. “Salutations, I am Cadderly, a visitor of Candlekeep like yourselves. Pardon if I seem out of sorts, but the journey has been long and treacherous and my labors age me so. Might I inquire as to your name? I am certain I have seen your face before, but I cannot fully place it.” “I am Rolanna, and I called this place home for many years.” “Rolanna! Then I know you well, though you may be hard pressed to remember. I was last here years ago, and conferred with your foster father as you were off to chores. I am not much your senior, really. I am certain you tire of hearing it, and that legions have told you the same, but Gorion was well known to me. His death has been mourned by many.” “I do not wish to dwell on his death. I have moved on with my life, though I cherish the memories.” “Perhaps that is for the best. I will speak no more of it, save to say that he was a good man. How have you fared in the time since?” “As well as can be expected, though I have learned much about myself that perhaps was better left unknown.”

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“Would that I had a gold coin for every person I have heard say such a thing. I am sure your troubles vary greatly from my own experience, but we all have trials we must overcome. We all have a side that should not see the light of day too often. What matters is how much strength you wish to let it have. Bah, such words are better saved for classes and meditations, not for reunions. I will take my leave, though perhaps I shall see you again before I am to go. The tomes of Candlekeep are very nearly endless, and I am sure to be here for a tenday at least. Fare well, my friend.” At the inn Imoen was glad to see old Winthrop, but I found I had little to say to him. Since it was so late, we spent the night there. Early the next morning I looked for more of my old friends. In the bunkhouse I ran into the monk Parda. “Oh Rolanna, I heard you had returned! If only it weren’t in such dark times. Something is afoot in Candlekeep—there is an unvoiced panic amongst those of us who still call these haunted halls our home. You must help us, I pray you.” “Anything, dear Parda. Just tell me how.” “How. How…If only I knew! Go around, search about. You have been away for a time, perhaps your eyes will see things that we cannot. We have been here too long, we are blind to the malignancies for they have crept up so slowly and absorbed themselves into our gaze. But they are there. My eyes can’t see them, my ears can’t hear them but all that is in me screams with the knowledge that they are there! Now hush, no one must know that we’ve been talking.” On the trip here I had considered, with the others, what the Iron Throne wished in Candlekeep. The most likely explanation was they wanted to replace the individuals they were meeting with doppelganger mimics. I decided to poke around some more. In the quarters set aside for the priests of Oghma who tended the small shrine I came upon a priest cutting open a dead cat with a small knife. “Hthsss! You startled me, child,” the priest practically hissed at me, so intent had he been on his dissection. “What are you doing to that cat?” “It died and I am studying it.” “You’re studying it? What is there to study? It’s a dead cat.” “The bones, the muscle structure, the shape of it, how its fur lies, where its ears are placed, the length of its whiskers, the sharpness of its teeth. I must know it all, you cur, now leave me to it.” “But why would you need to know that? Why would anyone?” “Must you pry so hard, you meddlesome brat!? Thsss, forget the plan! I’ll taste you now, I will, and study your dead flesh as I do the cat!” The priest transformed into a doppelganger, which we killed. I was suddenly worried. I hadn’t thought the Iron Throne representatives would have been able to smuggle more than a few doppelgangers onto the grounds. But if they were replacing

169 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast people as unimportant as this priest, it implied a much larger plot. I knew there were sections of Candlekeep where knowledge was kept that was forbidden to all but a few of the monks. Perhaps this was the actual target. I ran over to the barracks. The door was barred. When I banged on it, a muffled voice from inside sounded, “Go away, you chimp!” Now somewhat frightened, I ran to the main keep at the center of Candlekeep. As I entered it, another of my friends, the old monk Karan, stopped me. “Rolanna, my child, look at you! Your face has gained some new lines since the days when I tutored you...” “Ah, Karan, you speak true but it’s not your fault. You prepared me as well as you could for what lay beyond these walls... I just pray that I am prepared for what I shall find within them, now that I’ve returned.” “Why? What is wrong here? Shall I tell the Watchers?” “Yes, call the Watchers but first tell me if you have seen anything strange about the library today.” “Strange? Why yes, that is just the word I would have used for that Koveras fellow. He was right here beside me, taking Alaundo’s prophecies from their place on the shelf and reading them. I could hear his voice, recognize the Seer’s words upon his quiet breath, but when I turned to steal a glance at him from the corner of my eye, it was the strangest thing…his eyes were closed and he was reciting page after page, as if from memory! He heard your footsteps, it seems, and wandered off... I was just returning the prophecies to their rightful place, here. It might be wise to take a look. If this Koveras is dangerous, though, I’m afraid I’m too old and bookish to be more than a hindrance. Forgive me, but I must leave you now.” Thinking it might be important, I examined the book of Alaundo’s prophecies to which Karan had referred. Slips of parchment marked two entries. The first read: During the days of the Avatars, the Lord of Murder will spawn a score of mortal progeny. These offspring will be aligned good and evil, but chaos will flow through them all. When the Beast’s bastard children come of age, they will bring havoc to the lands of the Sword Coast. One of these children must rise above the rest and claim their father’s legacy. This inheritor will shape the history of the Sword Coast for centuries to come… The second read: The spawn of the Lord of Murder are fated to come into their inheritance through bloodshed and misery. It is the hope of their father that only one shall remain alive to inherit his legacy. I foresee that the children of Bhaal shall kill each other in a bloody massacre. I never had been much of a scholar. I suddenly wished I had spent some time studying the prophecies of Alaundo. As I was looking at the book, two other monks I knew walked over, Theoden and Jessup.

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“Well dip me in broth and call me stewed,” Theoden said, “if it isn’t little Rolanna! Why, I haven’t seen you for nearly…um…quite some time, anyway.” “Hello Theodon, how have you been?” I usually tried to avoid them when I lived at the keep, since their reminiscences could waste half a day. “I still remember you running about the keep in your little swaddling clothes, pestering the elders and spooking the cows. Ain’t that right Jessup?” “Surely was.” “Yep. Of course, you never did stay in those rags of yours long. You’d be naked as a jaybird the moment someone turned their back on you. I remember the day that fella Blackstaff come floating in and there you were, tearing around the outer keep with Gorion hot on your trail. Took the cloak right off his back, you did, and made yourself just the cutest little...” “Yes yes yes, I remember,” I interrupted hastily. “Could we drop it please? How have you been?” “Wait wait, I remember it all now! There was Khelben Blackstaff, trying his hardest to look important while you ran through the stables with his cape tied around your waist. Such a lark, eh Jessup?” “I thought I’d catch my death from laughing, I did.” “You and me both! Gorion was shaking like a leaf, he was so mad. Nobody was sure what to do, and then Khelben mutters some words and catches you by the scruff of the neck with some sort of spectral hand. He hauls you out and drops you right in front of him, grabbing his filthy cape in the process. Everyone was scared, they were. Weren’t they, Jessup?” “Sure enough. Scared witless.” “Yep, and then old Khelben busts out in the biggest laugh you ever heard. Everyone in the keep was laughing like mad, except you, Rolanna. You just stood there naked as the day you were born and wondering what the fuss was about. I tell you, those were the days.” “Um, yes. I think I’ll be going now,” I said in a small voice. “Oh certainly, little one. Stop by any old time though. I’ve got some paintings of you as a youngster I’m sure your little friends would love to see. Remember the one of Rolanna on the bearskin rug, Jessup?” “Surely do. In the buff as usual.” “Cute as a bug, you were. Go play with your friends now. Go on.” Imoen couldn’t suppress her chuckles. When I turned to glare at the others, Jaheira sweetly said, “Yes, oh omnipresent authority figure?” On the next floor, the monk Bendalis came over when he recognized me. “Hello Rolanna, it is good to see you here once again. A pity you could not have returned during a more restful time.”

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“Why? What is going on that would cause you such stress?” “Oh, it’s nothing I am sure. It’s just that, well, things just seem a little strange around here. Those decidedly un-merchant-like merchants for one. And some of our own monks are acting odd as well. One fellow in particular. I’m sure it is nothing. You should not worry yourself so much.” “Really? And who would that be?” “Well, there is this fellow named Koveras. I assume he is a visiting sage of some sort, but he seems more interested in our guests than the tomes. He makes me nervous. I think he’s had the same effect on others as well. Young Shistal has been out of sorts for days now. He is not as thick-skinned as I. You remember how nervous he used to be? He’s quite the opposite now. Seems like a totally different person. I worry about him. I should go. It has been nice speaking with you.” I took a quick look around the bookcases lining this floor for any sign of the Iron Throne people. As I was doing this, a man I didn’t recognize came over to me. “Ah, I thought I might find you somewhere around here. Allow me to introduce myself...” Although his voice was deep, I had the distinct feeling that he was deliberately raising it in timbre, that his natural voice would be much deeper. In fact, he seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place him. “Please do...” “My name is Koveras. I used to work for your father, running messages to his Harper friends in Waterdeep. Before he passed on, he entrusted this ring to me and asked that I give it to you should evil ever befall him... Will you take it?” “And what evil befell him, Koveras?” I concentrated on him. I could detect no evil; I actually couldn’t detect anything at all, as if he wasn’t there. However, I strongly felt I could not trust him. “You were there, you saw it all. A woman, an armored figure, two ogres wielding clubs. But Gorion’s petty magic was of little use against them, was it not? And you, you fled with your tail between your legs, hiding amidst the trees until dawn broke. And now, it comes full circle, doesn’t it. The Iron Throne so close that you can almost touch them and wreak your revenge for that night.” “You’re right, Koveras. I was there. Myself, my father, and four others who tried to kill us. Where were you, if you know so much?” Now I was sure he wasn’t to be trusted. “If you be so void of trust, I am surprised you have made it this far. It is of little matter. Go seek your vengeance or your doom at the hand of the Iron Throne. I wash my hands of it.” He walked off. The mystery he represented would have to be investigated later, after I had found those I was looking for. I glanced around. Nearby was one of the chanters, whose duty it was to spend part of each day chanting the prophecies of Alaundo so that they were never silent. I walked over to him. He recognized me. “Rolanna, you look distressed. What is it, child?”

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“There is trouble here, Chanter. You must help me.” “You are right, I have felt it, too. Pray tell me how this aging frame can help you.” “As Chanter, you know the history of this Keep better than any other. I have grown up here, I have played within its walls, but there were many places I was never allowed to go. I am older now and I will go where I must but please, are there any places in this Keep of which I was never told?” “But— What right have you to ask that, child!?” “I’m not a child anymore, Chanter...the entire Keep is in danger, even its most secret and sacred places... Please, Chanter. Gorion would have had it so.” “Sigh…I am growing old and the young are not so young anymore, nor the carefree so carefree... Alaundo the Seer, the one who founded this fortress of knowledge and whose prophecies I chant each day, he is entombed deep in the bowels of this place... I tell you this, Rolanna, because you’re right, it is time you knew. But I beg of you, in Gorion’s name, do not venture into those trapped and warded halls unless some higher power than myself bids you go. Your stepfather would never forgive me for your loss… I must go now, child— Rolanna…it is time to chant the Seer’s prophecies as I always have.” On the next floor, I found two of the Iron Throne leaders meeting with two others in a conference room. I told the others (except Jaheira) to wait outside while I entered. I was afraid someone, especially Kivan, would act without thinking. When I walked into the room, one of the men, who must be Rieltar, addressed us. “My dear fellows, you must realize that it is manners that make the man, so would you kindly prove that you are gentlemen by leaving!” His voice rose in anger as he continued. “The right people can afford to be rude, but this is not you. Leave now, before my irate companion Brunos lets his temper get ahead of his reason!!” “You’re the leaders of the Iron Throne!” I accused him. “We’re the ones who’ve caused you so much trouble over the past weeks. We know what you're all about, and soon, so will Duke Eltan.” “You’re the…and you’re stupid enough to admit this. Well my young friend, you might find safety within the library, but once you’ve left there will be no place for you to run.” Koveras had been right about one thing. I hated the man before me. A dark rage possessed me. My vision became tinged with red, and I wanted to murder him, cut him down without mercy just as had been done to Gorion. I trembled for long moments while I fought down the bloodlust. I wouldn’t break the rules of Candlekeep I had followed for so many years. There would come a better time to have my revenge. “We’ll leave, but don’t think this is the last of it…it won’t be, not by a long shot.” “That’s fine little ones, I’m sure we can expect to see you in the future, if not in person, then at least your heads.”

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I decided to climb to the top floor, where the offices of Ulraunt, Keeper of the Tomes, head of Candlekeep, and Tethtoril, the First Reader, were located. I hoped Tethtoril was in. Over the years, Ulraunt had avoided Gorion, as he did all the lesser inhabitants of the keep. Besides, he was said to be humorless and inflexible. Tethtoril had sometimes come by and talked to Gorion for hours; I was sure he would not dismiss out of hand my tale of doppelganger invaders. On the next floor up I saw the monk Shistal. Remembering Bendalis’ warning, I walked over to talk to him. He scowled at my greeting. “Leave me be, stranger. I’ve…work to do.” “All the other monks gave me a warm welcome. Why not you?” “I’ve no interest in idle chatter. If you knew the daily routine of a monk you would understand.” “I know the routine well. I lived here for many years. It is you who should know me.” “Of course. It is just that I did not recognize your face. I am just not acquainted with all of the monks quite yet.” “I was not a monk. I think you are lying.” “You would do well to leave me be. I tire of this game. Take your questions and go away, monkey.” “Oh no, I have many more questions to ask. For starters, who are you really?” “I am your deathhhh, foolish meat!” He transformed to his natural form. Heedless of the frightened exclamations of several nearby monks, I cut him down. I hurried over to the steps, continuing upwards. The next floor contained Gorion’s old room. On a thought, I decided to look in on it. The room had not yet been given to another, although Gorion’s possessions had been removed. I asked Imoen to help me search it. In a secret compartment in the lid of a chest Imoen found a letter. I eagerly examined it. Hello Rolanna, If you are reading this, it means I have met an untimely death. I would tell you not to grieve for me, but I feel much better thinking that you would. There are things I must tell you in this letter that I might have told you before. However, if my death came too soon then I would have never been given the chance. First off, I am not your biological father, for that distinction lies with an entity known as Bhaal. The Bhaal that I speak of is the one you know of as a divinity. In the crisis known as the Time of Troubles, when the Gods walked Faerun, Bhaal was also forced into a mortal shell. He was somehow forewarned of the death that awaited him during this time. For reasons unknown to me, he sought out women of every race and forced himself upon them. Your mother was one of those women, and as you know, she died in childbirth. I had been her friend and, on

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occasion, lover. I felt obligated to raise you as my own. I have always thought of you as my child and I hope you still think of me as your father. You are a special child. The blood of the Gods runs through your veins. If you make use of our extensive library you will find that our founder, Alaundo, has many prophecies concerning the coming of the spawn of Bhaal. There are many who will want to use you for their own purposes. One, a man who calls himself Sarevok, is the worst danger. He has studied here at Candlekeep and thus knows a great deal about your history and who you are. Gorion I sat down on Gorion’s bed, stunned. I was supposed to be the child of some dead god? That might explain the strange dreams. My opponent had been called the Son of Murder. Maybe he was of the same lineage. It seemed like this knowledge must change everything about me. Imoen punched me in the shoulder, saying, “Huh. Yer a queer fellow.” That old code phrase reminded me that nothing had really changed. When Imoen first came to Candlekeep, I had been in the habit of referring to anyone who I found strange as a “queer fellow.” She started to refer to me with that phrase, until in a burst of temper I had threatened to thrash her if she didn’t stop. After that, I only heard the phrase when we had one of our rare arguments, such as me lecturing her after some daring theft. Imoen would let me know everything was OK again (which never took long, she being Imoen), by using that expression. I smiled at her thankfully. I needed to be on the move. I knew Imoen hadn’t been able to resist reading the letter over my shoulder, but she wouldn’t tell anyone else. I carefully folded the letter and put it away. The others, especially Jaheira, would need to know, but not just yet. The next floor up would bring me to the offices of Ulraunt and Tethtoril. On the first landing, an officious Watcher blocked my way. He refused to let me proceed, since I had no appointment. I almost wished he were a doppelganger, so I would have an excuse to throw him aside. As we argued, I head the tromp of feet behind me, coming up the stair. Four watchers approached, led by the Gatewarden. “You there! Stop and surrender yourself. You are accused of murdering the men Brunos Costak, Thaldorn Tenhevich and Rieltar Anchev. If you give yourself up now, you will be assured of a fair trial.” I wasn’t sure what was going on, but there was no way I was going to fight them, all of whom I knew. “We didn’t murder anyone, so we’re perfectly willing to go to trial. Our innocence of this accusation should be refuted quickly, within any fair court of law.” “I’m glad you still have some of the sense Gorion taught you. Please, follow me. I’m sure everything will be sorted out quickly.” Our items were taken from us, and we were placed in a cell in the barracks. We had not been sitting there long when Ulraunt strode into the barracks. When he looked at me, his face bore a look of horrified satisfaction, the look someone might wear after their long predicted disaster had finally occurred, causing some awful destruction.

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“So, Rolanna, you have sullied your father’s name by defiling his home and bringing ruin to a peace that has lasted for centuries. I spit on you and all of your friends; your transgressions will be punished in the most severe form. I formally accuse you of the murders of Brunos Costak, and Rieltar Anchev.” “But I have done nothing wrong!” I protested. “Why have you accused me of such a thing?” “Why have I accused you? You were seen fleeing the murder scene, and a witness found the identifying ring of a Shadow Thief assassin in your personal effects, and gold minted in Amn. I feel that it is strong enough proof to accuse you.” I immediately concluded that the mysterious witness must be Koveras. My attention was drawn back to Ulraunt as he continued speaking. “From everything we have seen and found it is not hard to figure what your purpose was. From what I have been told, you have been trying to place all the misfortune of the Sword Coast squarely on the shoulders of the Iron Throne. I assume you and your friends are assassins in the employ of Amn. Perhaps you were sent up north to create discord in the region before an Amnish invasion. It matters little, you and your friends are to be sent to Baldur’s Gate where an appropriate punishment will be administered.” Ulraunt turned and left. To me, biased I must admit, the “evidence” should have suggested that Koveras be the one investigated. No wonder he had offered me that ring; when I refused, he had been forced to claim finding it among belongings I never left behind at the inn. It must have been doppelgangers “seen” fleeing the crime. I glumly sat and considered the fate to which I had led my companions. The opening of the outer door of the barracks drew me away from my gloomy thoughts. Tethtoril had entered. His face bore no readable expression. “Hello young one, I am sorry to see thee in such terrible circumstances. I know thee well enough to see that you have been falsely accused. Tomorrow Ulraunt will most likely sentence thee to be sent to Baldur’s Gate. There, thou wouldst receive the death penalty for these actions. I know that Gorion would not want to see his only child killed a scant few weeks after his own death. ‘Tis as a favor to his memory that I will help thee escape. Make thy way through the catacombs beneath the library, but disturb them not. I have your possessions with me, you must take them and go with haste.” “Do you know anyone by the name of Koveras?” “I know of no one named Koveras, but Koveras is the reverse of Sarevok, a young man who accompanied the leaders of the Iron Throne when they first came. I know not where he has gone.” Jaheira cursed at the news, wondering aloud how she could have been so stupid. I now knew for sure who my main enemy was: Sarevok. “It is now time for you to go Rolanna,” continued Tethtoril. “I can teleport you to the secret room that leads to the catacombs, but from there you are on your own. You must be careful within the catacombs, as there are many guardians and traps, and perhaps whoever planned these murders. However dangerous the catacombs may be, they are a safer alternative to Ulraunt’s wrath.” “Why can’t you teleport us outside of Candlekeep?”

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“Candlekeep is protected by powerful runes that seal it from divinatory and alteration magics. If I were to teleport you outside of Candlekeep, you would be ripped asunder when you came in contact with the protective field. Trust me child, this is the only way.” Tethtoril released us from the cell, so we could reclaim our belongings. He cast a spell. We vanished, to appear in a room far underground. It was time the others knew of my true heritage. I told them Sarevok and I were both children of the god Bhaal. Jaheira was not surprised, perhaps having learned of it through her Harper contacts long before we had met. We left the room, heading into the passages that make up the catacombs. Ahead, Phlydia, or a creature wearing her face, approached us. “My book! You stole my book, you cur! Thsssss!” She transformed into a doppelganger, and I cut her down. It was now obvious how so many doppelgangers had been smuggled into Candlekeep. A way had been found past the guards and wards into the catacombs. In this section of the catacombs, we mostly faced ghouls and ghasts, undead creatures that were not much of a problem for us. We found several tombs; one was grand enough to be the sage Alaundo’s, but there was no marking on it. We also found several powerful magical items. One, a book, which after carefully examining its cover Imoen declared was for me, somehow permanently increased my strength after I peered at its pages. In the next section, we encountered numerous doppelgangers wearing the faces of people I knew well in Candlekeep. I wondered if word of my escape had reached them, and they were trying to unnerve me. I had been forced to face many strange things in the last few months, and I just took this in stride, cutting them down as they appeared. Dreppin came forward, “Poisoned Arabelle, have you? And to think I would have left this Keep with the likes of you! Rraaaarrrrh, fleshling...” Then Fuller, “Fetch bolts, I said…I should have told you to lick my boots clean, you mound of flesh! Thsssss...” Parda, “Seek my comfort, will you? Aye, I’ll show you a sweet and silent comfort if ye’ll let me, wasteling.” Reevor, “Spy! Traitor! Fight for the rats, will ye? Fickle as the wind, ye are, fickle as the wind... We have a name fer yer type: Ratbastards, it is. Aye, Ratbastards, and I’ve never known one I didn’t hang with my own two hands!” Jondalar, “Thought you could take me on, did you? Try me now, twerp, and we’ll see who comes out the better!” Hull, “Stole Hull’s special elixir, did you? And fed it to the cows, no less! You’ll rue the day you even met me, Rolanna!” Karan, “Dullard! Insolent waif! I tried to instruct you, tried to make you wise but it was like drawing compassion from a Zhent! You are a nothing, child, and you will soon become much less! Thssss!”

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Even Winthrop, although it bothered Imoen more than me. “Lost yer sense of humor, have ye? Aye, I’ve heard what ye’ve been telling all yer little friends—that ol’ Winthrop has a hankerin’ fer a little elven arse every now and then! Heh, come here, my pretty, and I’ll soon change yer mind...” We were leaving a large chamber when three familiar figures approached down the hall ahead. Tethtoril was there, Elminster with his pointy hat, even Gorion. I think I might have fallen for it if not for the presence of Gorion. I knew beyond all doubt he was dead and gone. “Rolanna!” yelled Elminster. “Stop this madness, child, I beg of thee! Thou hast soaked these halls with the blood of innocents and I cannot permit it to go further.” “Stay back! Stay where you are! The one with you wears the face of my stepfather and I know him for dead!” “It’s okay, Rolanna, it’s alright.” It was Gorion’s voice, but I was not fooled. “I didn’t die that night, nor have I yet. The blade that you thought slew me had been treated with a magical poison. It left me, a living soul and a lively mind, imprisoned in a body that gave all appearance of death. The man you saw that night is called Sarevok and he has been in the Keep for three days past under the reverse alias ‘Koveras.’ Tethtoril kept watch on him but, in our foolishness, we never thought that he might have others with him... Please, child, I have loved you too much to lose you now.” “Elminster and I had suspected it for some time,” added Tethtoril. “With Sarevok away from his lair, Elminster was at last able to locate your step-father and bring him to safety... Forgive me, Rolanna, I should have told you earlier. But to raise your hopes only to see them dashed to pieces all over again? There is too much heart left in this bony cage for me to have done that.” “Please, child,” the false Elminster begged, “sheathe those weapons and sheathe thy madness, too. Come with us and we shall see thee, at last, to safety.” “You said that these walls were soaked with innocent blood. Then who was it that chased me down these wretched halls, calling my name in voices I once knew, only to close and attack in trait’rous form?” “By all that is good, Rolanna,” the mirror Gorion pleaded with empty words, “what have they done to your mind to haunt it so? Your old friend Dreppin lies tangled in his own entrails and foolish Phlydia, she ran down here to offer a mother’s shoulder and you have butchered her like the monster you perceived her to be... The gods have no mercy on we ragged mortals, it appears.” “If this is madness then leave me to it!” I was shaking in anger at this point, that they had dared to sully Gorion’s memory so. “If you flee now, I shall not attempt to kill you!” “Thsss, then, fleshling!” yelled Elminster, changing form. “Go mad, if you will, and feel the rasp of our claws against your mind!” I let free the red rage I had kept leashed when facing Rieltar, running forward with a scream. When I had finished, the other party members had to avert their gaze from the bloody pile of parted limbs, no longer separable into individuals. I carefully cleaned my sword, ignoring the pity in their eyes.

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At the end of this corridor we killed the doppelgangers and ghouls which the three were to have led us into for an ambush. The corridor opened into natural caves. Here we met a party of four adventurers. “Who’re you!?” challenged one. “I’ve been expectin’ Sarevok, not some rag tag band.” I was tired, and had no desire to spar with Sarevok’s lackeys. “We’re the mercenaries who’ve been causing the Iron Throne so much hurt!” “I thought as much! You won’t get by me and my band without a fight!” We killed them after a brief battle. On the one who had spoken I found a letter. Prat, My schemes have come together in a most satisfying manner. The mercenaries who have plagued my every step are now imprisoned, accused with the murder of Reiltar, Brunos and Thaldorn. Learn as much as you can about the fate of the mercenaries and then meet me back at Baldur’s Gate. I apologize for leaving you here alone, but it was necessary to return to the city so as to take Rieltar’s position as chief of operations. If things proceed smoothly I will be a Grand Duke within a few weeks. Sarevok. So they had also murdered the other Iron Throne leader, Thaldorn, back in Baldur’s Gate, and pinned that on me as well. Sarevok’s ultimate goal remained opaque. No matter how much personal power he gained in the city, too many people knew too much about the Iron Throne’s plans to profit from the iron shortage. We found a narrow passage; from ahead natural daylight could be seen. When we exited, we found a man waiting. “It’s about time you got out here, Prat! It is Prat, isn’t it? I don’t need to tell you that we must not keep the Sarevok waiting! I trust you didn’t have any trouble in there? He said that the monks fell for the ruse and that Rolanna was locked up, so he took the surface route out of the keep instead of meeting you in the crypts. We really must get moving if we are to catch up with him!” “Yeah, I’m Prat. Prat is indeed my name,” I quickly, fumblingly agreed. “Where are we supposed to meet up with this Sarevok?” “Back at the Iron Throne base in Baldur’s Gate, of course. He has business elsewhere in the city, but no doubt we shall get our bit of coin if we await him there. There is still much left to be done, so I doubt he’ll show for a while though. The disgrace of Rolanna will make the road smoother, but we must still act fast. Sarevok is notoriously impatient. Let’s get moving.” “Right then. Off we go to meet with Sarevok. Don’t want have him attacking us like Rieltar and the others.” “That…that was never the plan. Sarevok wouldn’t sully his hands on those he didn’t deem worthy of personally killing. For Rolanna and party to be blamed they were either

179 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast to be imitated by Doppelgangers or fooled into attacking Rieltar and the others unprovoked. You should know this. You…you’re not Prat are you? Oh, bloody hell. Bit of a mistake on my part, wasn’t it? Ah well, most of it went according to plan regardless. You’ll forgive me if I don’t stay for fisticuffs. Cheers.” He tried to run, but Kivan sped two arrows his way, dropping him. We had come up outside the main walls of Candlekeep. I led the others away, ignoring the body as we passed it. Sarevok’s plans needed to be ended once and for all. That I would do if I had to personally see to the death of every one of his followers. We stayed overnight in the Friendly Arm inn. As I slept that night I had a dream, this time of an event from the past I had completely forgotten. Visions of Candlekeep swam into view, and I was a child of only a few seasons once more. At my side was Gorion, gray-haired even all those years ago. How old must he have been to age so little in the time since? Aged as he ever was, I still had to run to keep up with him. He had an important meeting with Ulraunt, the Keeper of the Tomes: an important meeting about me. Funny, I hadn’t remembered it. As I stood outside the doors of the inner keep, I could hear the shouting from within. Gorion seldom raised his voice, though I did not care to listen to the “discussions” at my previous stops either. As I traced patterns in the water of a fountain, a reflection distracted me from the argument. A large raven had perched atop a stone wall, and stared directly at me with huge black eyes. I stared back through the mirror of the water, and was suddenly afraid to meet the bird’s gaze any other way. It had claws for feet, I thought to myself, little skeletal claws. The doors of the keep suddenly swung open and Ulraunt stormed out. He glanced at me for a moment, but looked away as he spoke. “You both can stay,” he sneered, “but mark my words. That child will be the death of you.” A flash of memory once more, and Gorion walked out of the keep as he was today: dead. I dropped my gaze back to the water so as not to see. The raven was gone, but my own image remained. My eyes were black, like those of a bird. "Like father, like child," the reflection said.

Accused We re-entered Baldur’s Gate by night; our return was not unlooked for. We were barely through the gate when a man hurried over to us. “I am Delthyr; I represent those who harp. Things have changed since you were gone, I can tell you everything you need know.” “Of course we do.” It seemed Jaheira was being less cautious about exposing her Harper association. I had already suspected she had asked compatriots to keep gathering information in the city while she was absent.

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“The second in command of the Flaming Fist, Scar, was assassinated. Grand Duke Eltan has come down with some mysterious ailment. No one knows how long he has to live. The most important news for you concerns your recent return to Candlekeep. You’ve been accused of murdering the leaders of the Iron Throne. Everyone believes that you are agents of Amn. They think your persecution of the Iron Throne was just a cover- up for Amn. Tensions run pretty high right now. The new Iron Throne president, Sarevok, has placed a price on all of your heads. The Flaming Fist has a warrant for your arrest. Before I continue, tell me, are you guilty?” “No, we were framed.” “I am relieved. Now we must speak of your future. From what our network has gathered, the Iron Throne is preparing to make a grab for power in Baldur’s Gate. It would be in your best interest to investigate what they’re up to. Perhaps if you could break into their citadel, you might learn something. I know these are very troubled times for you, but you know more about the Iron Throne than anyone else.” “Who killed Scar?” “From the evidence found where he was murdered, it would seem that the Shadow Thieves killed him. I think that it is far too convenient to lay the blame on that organization; I would assume that the Iron Throne remains involved in some way.” “Who are the Shadow Thieves?” “The Shadow Thieves are an extensive organization of thieves and assassins that has power bases all along the Sword Coast. It’s main base of operation however, is located in Amn.” “What clues incriminated the Shadow Thieves?” “The signature mask and stiletto were left on Scar’s body.” “What sickness has Eltan come down with?” “So far Eltan’s healer has been unable to discover what has been ailing him. It must be magical in nature. I find the whole affair rather strange. From what I know, Eltan’s healer, Rashad, was a priest of no mean faith and power. It is unusual that he has been unable to effect a cure for the Grand Duke.” We left Delthyr. Before we did anything else, I wished to restock supplies at the Sorcerous Sundries, the best shop for magic in the city. As we approached its entry, Imoen hissed at me, pointing off to my left. I could dimly see a single figure approaching, the muffled clank of armor no doubt what had alerted Imoen. The figure came into range of the light from the ever-glowing luminescent ball maintained above the entrance to the shop. It was a slight woman, wearing full plate, although she carried the helm at her side. She was staring at me, mumbling to herself, but I could just barely hear her, “A secret is only a secret if kept to oneself.” I realized I knew her, her armor. She had accompanied Sarevok on the night Gorion had been killed. I told the others to prepare, this might be an ambush. The woman moved up next to me, then bowed.

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“I apologize for not being more open, but these are troubled times. If I could be permitted to speak for a moment, I believe I have something you would want to hear. Perhaps we could help each other?” “I would know to whom I am speaking. I do not take candy from strangers, as it were.” “You may call me Tamoko. I do not presume to be your friend, or even someone you should trust, but fate demands that I place myself at your disposal. I have details worth listening to, and again I must ask if you are interested in a trade of sorts. Do you wish to hear what I have to tell?” “Say what you must and I will listen.” “I shall explain myself in further detail when I have time. Until then, I have but one thing to say: the one who claims to heal Duke Eltan’s sickness is also the one who breeds it. Likely there have been signs that suggested this to you, but none have said it so plain. No doubt you have the wherewithal to follow through on it. Your very nature gives you above average competence. Gorion’s tutelage could only have enhanced this.” “Don’t speak that name! I’ll not have you sully the memory of the only family I have known.” “But that was not the family that knew you, and knows you now. I think you feel the pull, and I think you strain against it still. Ah, again you see that I know much of you; perhaps more than you know yourself. There are three things that are strength incarnate: there is love of life, there is fear of death, and there is family. A family that loves death would have a strong pull indeed. Can you…feel it? Can you feel him? He hates you, you know.” “What have I done to deserve such hatred?” “What have you done? You exist, and chaos will be sown. That is the way it was intended, though I hope to change it. I must go, and you must go to Duke Eltan. Protect him from his own healer. I will wait near the Flaming Fist headquarters. We shall speak again and I shall have something to ask of you.” It might be a trap, but I would do as Tamoko suggested, as soon as we had gotten our supplies from the shop. We would need to navigate most of the length of the city to reach the Flaming Fist headquarters. My worry about the length of the walk was justified; we were near the docks when a Flaming Fist mercenary hailed us. “You look lost, citizen. Can I be of any assistance?” “Not so much lost as curious, officer.” I decided to try to allay his suspicions by asking an innocuous question. “Have you any news on how close we are to war with Amn?” “On the brink, I reckon. Angelo’s been mobilizing the Fist for war and equipping us with solid weapons forged from good Iron Throne ore. It’s a good thing that Angelo has such close ties to Sarevok or we’d be lost. And a good thing he’s been there to take command, too, what with Duke Eltan sick.”

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“Hmm, this does not bode well at all,” I replied, half to myself. Sarevok had moved quickly to solidify his position. I knew there were four Grand Dukes; he had already moved to neutralize Duke Eltan. I didn’t doubt he had plans for the others. “We’re the Flaming Fist, citizen. You need have no fear of those Amnish fools. If you doubt me, visit our barracks in the city. We are well prepared, I promise you.” The guard let us continue. It was late enough that we met no one else, although we ducked into an alley once to let a contingent of guards pass us by. Tamoko was waiting for us where she had promised, in front of the main entrance to the Flaming Fist headquarters. “I see you have sought me out, as I thought you would. I have things that must be said, things that are important to us both. I have but one condition to my discourse, and you must agree before I speak. A promise I seek, and I will accept no less.” “You have said many interesting things, but I do not trust you. Why should I make promises for information unheard?” “My promise will not harm you, though ignoring it can. Indeed, my information can only benefit. You will gain if you did not know it before, and you will gain if you knew it but needed it confirmed. The choice I pose is the only option. Are you in agreement or not?” “I shall offer my promise, and follow it as best I can.” “I thank you. Here is my request, though it may seem quite odd. I charge you to defeat Sarevok, the man behind all your woes. You must destroy his plans and stop his scheme in its tracks. You must strip him of the belief that he can succeed in this path he follows. You must do this for me, and you must also leave him his life. I will…I will help him to live his life as a man, not as the god he thinks he can be.” “I do not see how such a thing is possible. He has sought to destroy me, and I have only responded in kind.” “Sarevok seeks to destroy everyone, not just you. You are of particular interest because of your shared origins with him. You are a possible rival, one of the few that are worthy of his personal attention. Above all else, you are family. Does this disturb you? It should not; monsters are often closer to us than we like to think. You are siblings, and the paths open to him are yours as well, though he has been racing down his from his earliest days. You had Gorion to guide you, did you not? Sarevok had no one. He draws his strength from his hatred, from the thought of rising above those he knows to be inferior. His divine blood hungers for conquest, and that is why he must be defeated, but not killed. He serves another, but does not know it.” “Divine blood? He serves another? Of what do you speak?” “The child becomes the father, or so it desperately wishes. The blood pulls, calls, and demands. The wise Alaundo did say unto the ages, that the Lord of Murder would perish and his doom would spawn his mortal progeny. Chaos would be sown in their passage, but to what purpose? You have felt the hunger and heard the offerings of power? Sarevok thinks they are true and so he seeks a senseless war, and a slaughter of a scale so grand as

183 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast to defy description. He thinks it will launch him to…to what? Possibly he is right, but I cannot lose him to this.” “Why do you oppose him when you so clearly care for his life?” “Sarevok is…I share Sarevok’s company, and would do so until I die, given the choice. That is all you need to know. I would save the man within the beast he wishes to be. I do not believe he will survive his plan, it is all based on conjecture at best. He feels that he has been chosen, and that he will become…more than he is. I do not share this belief. Gods are not known for bequeathing their powers, especially if they have foreseen their deaths. Whatever he is, I would keep him here, grounded firmly among those of us that are all flesh.” “I shall strive to stop him, and will do what I can to see that he lives.” “I thank you. Sarevok can be redeemed, as could you should you one day pursue the same path. For now, I shall speak of secrets to aid you. Duke Eltan may be saved, but Duke Entar Silvershield has been killed outright. The murderers have acted with anonymity, but I know who and where they are. You must go to the Undercellars; return if you have already been. There you will find Slythe and Krystin, two unsavory beings that revel in the violence Sarevok allows them to commit. They are no more than animals in human guise, even by the standards of the company they keep. Kill them and you shall know much of the plan.” “I thank you for your help. I will seek them out.” “There is…another. Atop the Iron Throne base is a woman whose…whose influence is a poison in Sarevok’s soul. If she were removed I know he would listen to reason, to my pleading. Cythandria is her name, and she holds much power in this matter. She seeks Sarevok’s favor as well, though she is content if he self-destructs, so long as she profits in the deed. I…I must go. He cannot know I have helped you.” Tamoko left, leaving me deep in thought, trying to decide which thread to pull first from the tangled ball that was Sarevok’s plots. “You have returned.” A familiar voice interrupted. Shar-Teel’s voice. “That is fortunate, as I do not feel I have truly paid my debt to you just yet. Make no mistake; I follow you only because of your prowess in battle. When that falters, so does my loyalty.” What bad luck had caused Shar-Teel to be lurking here of all places? I began arguing with her, insisting I didn’t need her, she just as vehemently insisting she needed some action and was going to stay. We had so thoroughly engaged the attention of my party members that no one noticed the Flaming Fist mercenary approach until he yelled out. “Halt and hold! You stand accused of murder most foul! You will lay down your arms and come with us, or by order of Angelo Dosan you will be killed where you stand! Such is his order and I cannot alter it! It is your choice!” “I have no wish to fight you. I am no murderer, and I welcome the chance to prove it.” I clamped my hand on Shar-Teel’s forearm, forcing her already partly drawn sword back into its sheath. She looked at me in surprise; the last time we met, my physical strength had not matched hers.

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“A wise decision,” said the guard. “You will have a fair chance to defend yourself, regardless of how convinced of your guilt Angelo is. This way.” More members of the Flaming Fist appeared around us. We were disarmed, while Imoen, Jaheira and Yeslick were bound and gagged to prevent spell use. Herded inside the headquarters building, we were taken before the acting commander, Angelo Dosan. “Good evening Shar-Teel, it seems that you have finally found friends that share tastes similar to your own. I won’t answer any questions that you give me; the only reason I do this now is for what we have shared in the past Shar.” He motioned to the guards to give Shar-Teel her weapons. “Goodbye Shar, I hope to never see you again.” As Shar-Teel left, she sneered to me, “Forget our deal, I’m leaving.” Shar-Teel was the daughter of Angelo Dosan. This might explain her hate of the Flaming Fist, and why she had been hanging around outside their headquarters. “Justice may be blind, but I’m not,” commented Angelo, turning his attention to us. “So these are the infamous murderers, finally brought to justice. I am Angelo, commander of the Flaming Fist. I will be your judge, jury and executioner, please pardon the cliché.” “You aren’t the commander of the Flaming Fist,” I lashed out angrily. “That title belongs to Duke Eltan, someone who deserves the title. You’re a pretender, and a rather ugly and smelly one at that.” I hoped to get a favorable reaction from the guards; the reaction I got wasn’t what I had expected. “There is some truth to your words. It is unfortunate that you speak them to me, because as you probably intended, your words have caused me anger. Kill one of them! I don’t care which one!” Without hesitation, one of the guards drove his sword into Kivan’s back. Khalid and I were clubbed to the ground when we tried to react. Obviously, Angelo had placed his most trusted cronies in control of the headquarters. “Now that we are done with all of these pleasantries, I will make my decision. I had thought hard and long on what sentence I should give if you should be delivered into my hands. The choice is an obvious one. For the charges of murder, theft, arson, rape and many other assorted crimes I declare that each of you shall be taken to the Bazaar where you shall hang by the neck until you are dead.” As we were placed in a cell, Khalid sadly commented, “Another friend fallen. Does it never end?” The bonds on our spellcasters were exchanged for locked chains. The Flaming Fist had experience with captives who could cast magic. Even my strength was insufficient to break the chains. It was very early morning when a voice called out from an adjacent cell. “Hey, you guys. Yeah, you in the other cell, are you the group that’s wanted for murder on three different counts? Don’t try to deny it, I know it’s you. Well, heh…heh my name’s Neb. Heh, heh, I killed some little street urchins. They’re such a clutter to this city, ya know? They scream good too, especially the little girls.” “Filthy monster, shut your mouth,” I growled in reply. I had glanced in the cell as we passed on the way to our own. I had seen only a very ordinary looking dwarf. My reply only kept him quiet for a short time; he soon started talking again.

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“Heh, heh, you’re getting impatient in here, are ye?” Getting no reply, he continued. “I’ve got a way out of here, you know… Heh, hidden it well, haven’t I? Search all you want and you won’t find it, heh heh. Heh, good thing ol Neb decided to mix a little bit of illusioncraft with his thievery, eh? Sure, sure…I’ll tell you what. Murderer to murderer, now, monster to monster, are you wanting out?” I tried to ignore him; Jaheira took a different view. She kicked me, glaring at me, then at the adjoining cell. When you have no hope, I suppose you will claw at any chance with sudden desperation. “Please, we’ll do whatever it takes,” I forced myself to beg. “It’s very important that we get out of here.” “Heh, sure, sure, everyone’s wanting out but does the world really want us out? Maybe it’s safer if we all just stay in here, heh… Monster to monster, now, murderer to murderer, how many little children passed away at old Neb’s hands? Not 1, not 2, neither 4 nor 7 nor 12 nor 20 but the next one, the next one in the sequence…” This time it was Imoen’s turn to kick me. When she had gotten my attention, she began to deliberately tap her foot. I carefully counted the taps. “You killed 33 children, Neb... May the gods and all their solars wreak their vengeance.” “Let the solars come and I shall kill them too! In a world without justice, the gods are little more than a divine puppet show. Come, the tunnel’s through the wall, here, and it is time we cut ourselves free from this confining womb.” Suddenly, there was an opening in the wall to the adjoining cell. We passed through it to Neb’s cell, where another opening led into the corridor. Neb was already gone. When we entered the corridor, another opening at the end of the corridor led outside. I had never heard of illusionary magic that could create real holes in walls. I later learned that Neb was guilty of his self accused crimes; the irony that we needed the help of one monster to derail the plans of another did not escape me. We did not immediately leave, but rather quietly sneaked into the basement of the headquarters. There we found Kivan’s body, as well as our equipment, and keys to unlock the chains on the spellcasters. We left the building through Neb’s hole, and walked to the Temple of Helm. There we woke the high priest and convinced him, with the aid of a hefty donation, to raise Kivan from the dead. To me, it is a telling condemnation of the religions of the gods that this most holy and puissant ability is often rationed economically. The casting itself was quite simple, requiring only a brief preparation of the body and a few moments of concentration for the priest to marshal the forces of his god. Kivan arose as if only from a sleep, but the knowledge of what had happened to him was in his eyes. “There is much important work left to be done,” he said, clasping his hand on my shoulder. “Lead on.” Kivan, especially, needed some rest. We hurried through the nearly empty streets to the Blushing Mermaid, where we rented rooms to get some sleep. I stayed for a while in the nearly empty common room to catch up on any rumors. I was surprised at the tale of a dwarf, which he was repeating to anyone who would give him a few silver pieces.

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“Heh, Scar it was, second-in-command of that noble Flaming Fist, and on a night- dark street it happened. The rain, ‘twas spattering against the window’s glassy panes and soaking up through me bootwraps, givin’ me the chill. A cunning cut-throat rushed on by ‘im an’ cut the straps o’ his travelpurse wit’ a blood-sharp knife before turnin’ down the alleyway. Ay, good man Scar, he chased the culprit there into the dark as I came stumblin’ through the puddles to ‘is aid.” “But that petty cut-purse, ‘e weren’t the rugged waif that he appeared to be—Nay, he was a silver-skinned changling, ‘e were, an’ wit’ his dagger-claws ‘e gored the good man through the eyes. Then ‘e slit ‘is neck so vicious just to leave ‘im bleedin’ in the rain. My proffer’d aid, ye ask? Ay, ‘twas as quickly withdrawn as rashly granted and I hid there in the shadows as the mirror-fiend assumed new form to saunter, bloody-handed into the darking night. My aid comes in that I’m here to tell the truth of the good man’s passin’ to any list’ner that can spare the coin. ‘Tis enough, I figure, an’ I doubt ‘e’d disagree.” We kept to our rooms for the rest of the day until night had come again. When we gathered, I had determined that it was time to take the battle to our enemies. First, we would return to the Iron Throne building. We entered the building without trouble; it seemed no guards were on the ground floor. A woman, dressed as a merchant, her arms full of scrolls, was hurrying for the exit as we entered. I moved to block her path. “Out of my way interloper! I am getting off this sinking ship as fast as I can!” “Why are you so panicked? Is not Sarevok in control?” “I will not debate that he is in control, but whatever his plans, they certainly do not have the good of the Iron Throne in mind. He has abandoned us in favor of his new position, that of soon to be appointed Grand Duke. We are simply to be cast off, and I would not be surprised if he marches the Flaming Fist through here tomorrow as a show of his stance on mercantile crime!” “Sarevok is to be a Grand Duke? How can this be?” “Quite simple, really. He has built up support by pledging to combat the very chaos he himself was sowing! I imagine he’ll have a fantastic success rate too, seeing as how he is in total control with our leaders dead! I doubt that he will settle into a nice quiet political life though. He seems set on causing as much destruction as possible, and I think he is intent on pushing for war with Amn!” “Why would he pursue such a destructive plan? What could he gain from it?” “How should I know? I am no diviner. I only know business, and what he is doing makes very little economic sense. Had he wished to grow rich from dealing in ore, then I would have understood. Had he kept the Iron Throne intact he could have used his upcoming position as Duke to sanction Amn and increase our trading power over groups like the Knights of the Shield. As it is, he is seemingly intent on abandoning us and launching a bloodbath of a war. Know this: The people believe in Sarevok, and it will take more than a blade to reduce his stature in the eyes of the public.” “How can people believe in him? Can they not see his nature?” “People see what they wish, and they really wish to see a savior. He offers stability and seems able to deliver. That is more than anyone has been able to give them so far. I

187 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast tire of this chatter. If you feel you must strike me down, do as you wish. Do not expect me to wait around while you do it though.” On the stairs, I stopped another of the Iron Throne’s members headed downwards. “Who..?! Get out of my way! I don’t care who you are, I just want out of here.” “And just who are you?” “Pang is the name, and I’ll thank you kindly to get out of my way! I don’t care why you’re hear. Take all you wish if you are thieves. I just want to leave. That Sarevok has become too big for his britches. Our leaders weren’t a day dead before he declared the Iron Throne to be his.” “It does not matter. I will destroy all of you regardless.” “The job has already been done! Who needs you when we have Sarevok?! If not for that fool they have accused, I would have guessed Sarevok killed our leaders. He has frittered away our gold, used our grandest plots to inflame governments, and done nothing but laugh when accused of ruining our organization! He seems quite sane, so I can only assume he has some motive of his own. It is not to the benefit of the Iron Throne, that much is certain. Do what you will. I am leaving before anything else goes wrong.” On the next floor, a young man stopped our party. “Who are you? Have you business here? Ah, what does it matter? Everything is in shambles.” “I expected more resistance to my breaking in. What is going on here?” “There is very little going on here. Everything is falling apart as we speak…and one person is too blame...” “And just who might that be?” “I speak of Sarevok, the new self-proclaimed ‘leader’ of the Iron Throne. My father Bruno was barely a day dead when Sarevok made his claim, and now everything is crumbling. I am sure he orchestrated the whole thing so he could gain control, but if he wanted to run the organization, why does he act as though he does not care for it? I have no idea, but I will put a blade in his belly before the day is through, regardless.” I left him to his daydreams, and continued climbing the stairs to the next floor. An older woman briskly approached me at my appearance, impatiently peppering me with questions. “You there! Stand your ground a moment! I demand to know what is going on here! I have been sent from Sembia to determine why this branch of the Iron Throne has foundered, and I have found no one who will stand still more than a second! What in blazes is going on here?” “Why not ask Sarevok? He seems to be the one in control now.” “Sarevok? That upstart? Then the rumors I have heard are true. Our regional leaders here are dead and Sarevok has assumed their roles. Such arrogance! No doubt he had a hand in their demise, I’ll wager! That would explain why we have not been getting

188 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast reports on progress here on the coast, but what could he be up to? I shall have to report these findings to my superiors at once.” It seemed the allies of Sarevok I had expected to find were not here. I decided to head for the top floor, to the offices of the Throne’s leaders, to see if anyone was present. In a narrow hallway leading to the main offices, I encountered a woman. I did not recognize her, but she knew of me. “Mmmmm…so you’ve come back. If you were smart Rolanna, you would have left well enough alone. I don’t know how you escaped my lord’s trap at Candlekeep, but you won’t be getting any further than here... Why did you come back here? I would have thought that you’d go after Sarevok directly?” “Someone told us that this would be the place to go.” “Who told you to come here?! Who betrayed my lord?! It was Tamoko wasn’t it?” I realized I was talking to Cythandria, who Tamoko had implied had stolen Sarevok’s affection away. “I always knew her to be a traitorous whore! Well it matters little if she did or not, all that matters is that you will die! I’ll make double sure of it!” I suddenly found myself the focus of two club-wielding ogres, which she had previously magicked to be invisible and stand at the sides of the hall. Despite my surprise, I was able to use my shield to fend off one, while striking at the other. Khalid came to my aid, swinging his sword. Kivan, unable to move forward in the confined space, shot arrows at the ogres who towered over my head. The ogres were no match for me in ability, and they soon lay dead. Meanwhile, Cythandria had cast several spells, which had either been ineffective, or had been countered by Imoen. Her face paled with the death of her two servitors, and she held trembling hands up. “Wait! Do not kill me…please. I…I will tell you where to go to find my lord. The Under…the Undercellars are where you wish to go. It is there that you will find Sarevok. You can reach the Undercellars through the sewers... Please let me go now... I am shamed by my lack of courage.” “Give us all of your possessions and then get out of our sight!” “Take everything! It matters little…my life is forfeit.” She slunk off after giving us what she was carrying. It was an interesting collection of documents. I wondered if she had intended to blackmail Sarevok; Tamoko had said she was an opportunist. I examined the letters I had found. Sarevok, I have received your letter and am quite overjoyed by your proposition. I have told my wife, and she is as excited as I am. I accept your mission and think that your payment is very adequate. This will be our greatest feat yet! To kill three Grand Dukes of Baldur’s Gate! We will be arriving in Baldur’s Gate within a week, and should be taking up our usual residence at the Undercellar. If you wish to contact us, you will find us there. Use the access points through the sewers. Joyfully yours, Slythe

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Sarevok, I must say that our first victim was not the challenge that my wife and I had expected. The foppish idiot had only the most token of defense. However, I can assure you that Entar screamed quite deliciously all the way to the end. I hope that this next mission is much more difficult; from what you have told me it would seem to be. Assassinating two Grand Dukes in their own palace, while they harangue the high nobles of Baldur’s Gate no less! I can’t wait! You still know where to find us. You should come down and enjoy the pleasures of the Undercellar for yourself; but if I know you, that’ll never happen. Your obedient servant, Slythe Also present was the diary of Sarevok. It outlined all of his plans. I was surprised he had dared to keep it. 14th of Eleint, 1367: Today Cormyr has instituted a ban against the Iron Throne from operating within their borders. While this is a great blow to the Iron Throne, it is the perfect opportunity for Reiltar to approach the Throne high council with his proposal. If things go well, we could begin the operation within the year. 25th of Marpenoth, 1367: Davaeorn has sent a message to Reiltar, informing him that the mines at Cloakwood have been drained and are ready for use. This revelation should help greatly in convincing the Throne high council. 2nd of Nightal, 1367: The Iron Throne council has agreed to support Reiltar’s plan. He has been given all the resources he needs, as well as leadership of the project. I have expressed interest to my “father,” and he has promised to include me within the operations along the Sword Coast. He mentioned mother in our conversation: how I wasn’t to be unfaithful to him as she had. He made it clear that I would suffer her fate if I was. His threats are weak and hollow, and I shall listen to them for only so long. I have decided to take this time to make my visit to Candlekeep. I have waited a long time to research the prophecies of Alaundo, and I must know if the dreams speak the truth. I will not believe the words of phantoms without proof, and the Priest of Bhaal I confronted gave me nothing. He was old and died quickly in my grasp. If the words are true, I shall surely groom stronger acolytes than this. 11th of Ches, 1368: My research has gone well. The monks here at Candlekeep have been quite helpful. From what I have read, it would seem certain that the blood of Bhaal does indeed flow through my veins. His prophecies are (of course) ambiguous, but I think I understand them. He foresaw his coming death, and seeded his essence across the land. The children born as a result bear the marks of chaos, have power with no direction, and shall feel the blood of a god within them. The deaths they bring shall awaken the father, and through them he will rise. It does not explicitly say, but obviously this means that death wrought by the children will cause them to ascend. Fitting, and since the father was the Lord of

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Murder, proving one’s worth must involve an act in accordance with his portfolio. I begin to see what I must do. Death on a god-like scale. 3rd of Tarsahk, 1368: The monk Gorion troubles me. He seems to have taken an interest in my readings. I must be careful to be more clandestine in my research. I wish I could simply kill him, but I doubt I could safely murder him within this damnable library. 11th of Tarsahk, 1368: I had a dream this night. My mother was talking to me, but as she did her face became bloated and discolored. Her voice became weaker as she spoke to me, telling me to save her from Reiltar. I could see the garrote cutting into her neck, but I did nothing. It was only a dream. 27th of Tarsahk, 1368: I take my leave of Candlekeep now, and not a moment too soon, for I am sure that Gorion has perceived my heritage. One thing that I am certain of: Rolanna is, in actuality, one of Bhaal’s brood as well. Rolanna has all the markings, and it would explain Gorion’s curiosity of my studies. Though there is nothing I can do now, I will have to make certain to return and kill the little brat. It would be foolish of me to let one of my siblings live, especially one being brought up by the Harpers (and I am sure that is where Gorion’s allegiances lay). 5th of Mirtul, 1368: Today I met with Reiltar in Baldur’s Gate. The fool still insists on calling me his son, and for now I will let him. He assumes that I am loyal to him because he raised me. Well, loyal I am, but only as long as he is useful. He’s set up a base in the mansion of a destitute noble family and says that everything is running smoothly. Mulahey has established himself at the mines of Nashkel, and his kobold minions should be already busily contaminating the iron ore. Only a few slaves have begun to mine out the ore at Cloakwood, though Reiltar assures me that once the bandit raids begin we’ll have a steady supply of new slaves. 8th of Hammer, 1369: I met with the leaders of the Chill, and Black Talons. I have little liking for Ardenor, the leader of the Chill, but Taugosz seems to be a man of his word. It is a good thing, as I’ll have to work with these mercenaries for the rest of the year. 3rd of Tarsahk, 1370: Everything proceeds well. The ore coming from Nashkel has started to deteriorate, and my mercenaries have been doing a fine job at destroying any iron caravans on route to Baldur’s Gate. Though some of my mercenaries have been captured, most think they work for the Zhents, so no trouble has fallen on the Iron Throne. I am sure that the Zhents at Darkhold won’t be pleased to know that their name has been falsely used. I will have to be wary for Zhentish agents in the coming months. 28th of Tarsahk, 1370: I think I now have the time to deal with that old codger Gorion, and his little whelp. I will have to inform my men that I’ll be gone for the next few weeks. Undated: No time to write, but I must not neglect my journals so. The future dead must know of how the Lord of Murder again came to them. I shall hire a scribe when time allows. Things have not gone completely as I have planned, but I will

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still be able to salvage the situation. Rolanna is on the move to Baldur’s Gate; if I could maneuver the whelp to Candlekeep, then I would have the perfect scapegoat for my plan. My mortal “father,” Rieltar, is there to meet with the Knights of the Shield. He has been blocking all my attempts to escalate the hostilities between Amn and Baldur’s Gate, and these meetings will only serve to smooth relations. I must rid myself of them all and assume control of the Iron Throne myself. I cannot allow petty business and monetary concerns to interfere. Terribly sorry, “father,” but my true parentage calls and you are in my way. I shall be sure to instruct the doppelgangers in the exact manner Reiltar should die. I think a garrote would be perfect for the task. So Sarevok’s plan was to manufacture a war with Amn, a war which would serve only to kill as many as possible on both sides. I had disrupted his plans, but Sarevok could still succeed. There was no way he could possibly convince the other Grand Dukes to follow through on what he wanted. Since he wanted them dead, I needed to keep them alive until they could realize his treachery. First, I would deal with Duke Eltan. I returned to the Headquarters of the Flaming Fist. I tried no subtlety, but banged on the main doorway with the hilt of my sword. A guard unbarred it to see what we wanted; he recognized me. “What foolishness is this?! Are you trying to storm the Flaming Fist compound?! You’ll find no friends here Rolanna! Angelo now commands the Flaming Fist. Friends of Duke Eltan can only expect death from Angelo’s new order. To arms, to arms, Rolanna and cohorts have broken into the compound!” I forced my way inside, followed by my friends. Angelo was not present, but he had left his supporters among the Flaming Fist in control. They refused to surrender, and we killed the half dozen present. Upstairs, we found Duke Eltan in bed, attended by the false healer Rashad. “Who are you?” the healer demanded when we burst into the room. “What are you doing here?” “We know who you are...” I pointed the tip of my sword at his breast. “So, you’ve figured out the truth, meat. It will do you little good. Guards! Before my guards get here, I should be able to deal with you myself.” The guards were already dead. The doppelganger soon followed. Duke Eltan gasped his thanks when we were done. “I am again in your debt. That creature has kept me helpless for too long. Perhaps if I hadn’t been incapacitated I might have been able to prevent Scar’s death. -cough- Angelo will soon hear of my recovery. It is important that you take me away from here; I’m sure Angelo won’t want me coherent and among the living. Take me to the Harbormaster’s building. The Harbormaster is a good friend of mine. I can rest there until I’m fully recovered. I fear for the lives of my fellow dukes, Liia and Belt. If they were to die, Sarevok would take over the city. Hurry, we must make haste.” I recalled, when we had been exploring the sewers earlier, finding a secret entrance that appeared to lead into the basement of this building, although we had not tried it then.

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Khalid and I picked up Duke Eltan, and we hurried down to the basement. A quick search revealed a secret entry into the sewers. I didn’t have much time to form a plan, but came up with the best one I could. We followed the sewers to the harbor. Imoen exited first, sneaking in the shadows to the Harbormaster’s building. After a short time the rest of us followed, Khalid and I still carrying the cloak wrapped body of Duke Eltan. We started to carry him out onto one of the piers, passing by the front of the Harbormaster’s building. We stopped for a moment. When the party continued on, they were carrying the cloak wrapped form of Imoen. Near the end of the pier, they threw the “body” into the harbor. Meanwhile, I was standing in the shadows at the front of the building. With Duke Eltan over my shoulder, I forced the door, entering. I roused the Harbormaster and explained my presence. “By the bitch queen’s breath!” he exclaimed. “That’s Duke Eltan ya have with you. He’s looking in a bad way. Leave him here with me; I’ll make sure he’s alright. You’re the people who’ve been working fer Scar and Eltan against the Iron Throne. Well I’m sure you have much to do so you should a get a move on it. Don’t worry about Eltan, I’ll keep good care of him. I’ve got to get him to a safe place, so good luck.” I returned to the Elfsong, where I met the others. A wet but grinning Imoen soon joined us. I hoped I had created enough distraction to confuse any watchers as to the true whereabouts of Duke Eltan.

Sarevok I knew an entry to the Undercellars lay in the Blushing Mermaid. We walked to the northeast section of the city, where it lay. As I was moving towards the entry, a man stopped me, demanding to speak to me in a slurring voice. Jaheira whispered that he was a drunk named Husam, who had delivered surprisingly accurate information in the past. The “drunk” addressed me in a perfectly clear voice. “First off, my name really is Husam. I have never owned a business in Baldur’s Gate. My associates and I belong to an organization called the Shadow Thieves; I’m sure you’ve heard of us. I’m here in the Gate because of the lies being spread about our organization and the nation of Amn as a whole. I’m sure you’re aware how you were framed as Amnish assassins while in Candlekeep, or how the deaths of Duke Entar Silvershield and commander Scar were blamed on the Shadow Thieves. Well…we had nothing to do with it. It seems that someone is going to a lot of trouble to create a feeling of animosity between Baldur’s Gate and Amn. Amn has never been interested in a war with this city and has definitely not been responsible for all of the troubles in this region. All of that can be placed squarely upon the shoulders of the Iron Throne, or more specifically Sarevok. Now that I’ve told you who I am, perhaps you can tell me who you are.” “We’re working with Harper assistance.” Although Jaheira frowned, she didn’t gainsay me. “Harpers. They seem to meddle in everyone’s affairs.” “How did you plan on helping us?”

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“I’ve been tracking the movements of two Night Masks who’ve been operating in the city over the past few weeks. I’d say they were responsible for framing the past several murders on the Shadow Thieves. I know they’ve been staying at a place called the Undercellars. How ‘bout we pay them a visit.” “Show us the way.” Half a dozen thieves appeared from the shadows around us. Husam had been prepared if we had reacted badly to his disclosure. “Just follow us to the Ilmater shrine, it has one of the entrances to the Undercellars.” We walked a block to the shrine. “Here we are. The entrance is just in the back. We’ll stay up here and run interference. The two you’re looking for are named Slythe and Krystin. Talk to the priest of Ilmater in the temple, he’ll get you into the Undercellars. Meet us up here when you’ve dealt with the assassins.” Inside the shrine, the priest indeed revealed a most unexpected entry to the Undercellars. Even if the assassins had watchers at the entrances, I doubted they knew of this pathway. One of the assassins was not hard to find. He was in what was once a large vault, now bowdlerized with low couches and comfortable cushions. He was male, but I could not make out more due to some magic that shadowed his face. Several courtesans of both sexes accompanied him. “Well, well, well, dear,” said the male. “What have we here…blade fodder?” “I don’t know, Slythe,” a female voice replied from the air. “They’re so big and threatening... Oh, my mistake, I was thinking of someone else.” “Ooh, she’s got a tongue of steel and a heart of gold, my Krystin does... And she’s so pretty that she makes herself all invisible so guys don’t give her hassle. Not that they would with a tough guy like me looking after her, of course...“ “Slythie-baby, you tell them honey...” “Oh Baby, you know me. You know your Slythie... Hey you, don’t you go watchin’ us go all mushy, alright? It ain’t none of your business... What’s that you whispering, sweetheart? Hey, now my girl Krystin tells me that yous all have a soft spot for the Grand Dukes. Sure is a shame about Entar Silvershield, isn’t it?” “One down and two to go. Poor Dukes... Wouldn’t it have been better if they had all died together?” “Bah, Krystin, don’t give it all away like that, now. It’s on…what do they call that again, the silver bladder? Ah, enough of this cat and mouse stuff, anyhow. I ain’t cut out for it. We’ll kill ‘em now and do the Dukes after lunch like Sarevok said us to.” “Mm, I love you for your mind, Slythe.” “Hey fellows, guess what time it is; yep, you got it, it’s time to die.” Slythe drew a dagger, the glistening blade hinting at some deadly poison coating it. “Oh! I’m so excited Slythe, I’ve never heard real live heroes beg for their lives,” floated Krystin’s voice from near at hand.

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We were not unprepared for this battle. Yeslick cast dispel magic, revealing the hidden Krystin. I yelled to the others to take care of her; I concentrated on Slythe. “You’re all going to die. I’m going to slit your throats, open up your guts and spoon out your brains,” yelled Krystin in excitement; a glance her way revealed she was preparing a spell. I fought defensively against Slythe, more worried about his wounding me with the dagger than trying to strike him. The concentrated arrow and spell fire on Krystin proved more effective. “I can’t take this, I can’t! I’m sorry darling,” she yelled. Slythe half turned, yelling in turn, “Krystin, honey, don’t break down on me here, I still need your help.” I glanced again her way. She attempted to run, but two more arrows sprouted from her back, dropping her. Her death distracted Slythe. I hit him with two quick blows, sending him to his knees. A final thrust to his heart finished him off. We quickly searched the assassins, finding a letter on Slythe. Slythe, The time to strike is now. When the party commences on the night of my coronation, you will join up with my doppelganger assassins at the sewer entrance to the palace. You are to insinuate yourself into the crowd in the ballroom. When I am finished my speech you will strike. If you aren’t there my doppelgangers will proceed without you, and your payment will be forfeit. Make sure to keep a leash on your little bitch of a wife. An invitation to the party is included with this note. Sarevok An invitation to the “inauguration of the newest Grand Duke of Baldur’s Gate at Ducal Palace” was also present. With shock, I noted it was for this night. Only the assassins’ supreme self-confidence had caused them to dally in the Undercellars until the last moment, allowing me to catch up with them. Outside, Husam was waiting for us. “How did you fare?” “We killed both of them.” “Good, did you find anything on their bodies?” “We found several documents spelling out their next assassination. They were to join with a group of doppelgangers to kill the two remaining Grand Dukes during the election. We also found an invitation to Sarevok’s coronation on their bodies.” I was careful not to imply that Duke Eltan might still be alive. “That’s happening tonight! If they succeed, Sarevok will have seized control of the entire city. We should move immediately; we have to get to the Dukes before it’s too late. We must gain entrance to the palace. You can use the invitation you found. The rest of us will see if we can gain access though the sewers of the city. I don’t know how successful we’ll be, so it’s really up to you Rolanna.” We hurried to the Ducal Palace. The commander of the Flaming Fist guard detachment admitted us without trouble. Inside, I peered out at the grand hall from a side doorway. Sarevok, in full armor, and the two remaining Grand Dukes were just preparing to hold the ceremony of investiture. Behind Sarevok was Angelo, in civilian dress, and

195 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast two men dressed finely but otherwise nondescriptly. A hulking, armored figure in closed helm could only be Tazok. A gaggle of nobles looked on. No guards were present, which led me to hope Angelo’s closest supporters had all died in the raid on the Flaming Fist headquarters. I whispered to Kivan to run and tell the commander of the guard detachment outside that he thought he had recognized the dangerous assassin Rolanna in the hall. I told Jaheira, Yeslick and Imoen to prepare what defensive magic they could. I chanted a prayer of protection for myself. Although, like always, I didn’t know who I called upon, I felt the magic settle over me. In the hall, the Grand Dukes began to speak “Now that all of our guests have arrived,” solemnly intoned the Grand Duke Belt, “we can begin with the ceremony that you have all been awaiting.” “As all of you know,” added Grand Duke Liia Jannath, “this is a special occasion for the city of Baldur’s Gate. It is time for a new person to join the ranks of the Grand Dukes. I do not wish to downplay the tragedy that we suffered with the loss of Entar Silvershield, but this is not the time for us to show grief.” “The votes have been tallied from those submitted by the landowners,” stated Belt. “The result was nearly unanimous.” “What of Duke Eltan,” interrupted one of the onlookers, “has his condition improved at all? If he dies, who will replace him?” “What about the rumors of Amn mobilizing for war,” asked another. “Why aren’t we preparing for war?” “With our iron shortage,” said another voice, “how are we to defend ourselves, who will give us the iron we need?” “What of the Zhentarim,” clamored another, “I’ve heard that they may be somehow involved.” “I believe that Eltan was poisoned by members of the Shadow Thieves,” declared the first speaker, “they’re obviously trying to kill our leaders.” “All of your questions will be answered in due time,” answered Belt in a calming voice, “you need not worry.” “Entar was killed by Shadow Thieves; agents of Amn,” insisted the first speaker. “If it isn’t obvious to the rest of you, it’s obvious to me: Amn wants a war.” “The evidence we have about Entar’s murder does resemble the work of the Shadow Thieves, but…” started Liia. “Resembles!” shouted one of the nobles in outrage. “That’s ridiculous, the signature left behind on the body was the mark of the Shadow Thieves. Are you blind and stupid, woman?!” “If I may continue, the signature left behind was very blatant and could have put there to mislead all of us.” “Who would want to mislead us!”

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”Perhaps I could interject something,” said Belt, “before this meeting degenerates into meaningless bickering. We are here to welcome our new Grand Duke, so perhaps we should get on with it.” He turned to Sarevok. “Introducing the new Grand Duke, Sarevok Anchev.” “I am honored to be here before such a respected assemblage of noblemen.” I wondered if I was the only one who could hear the contempt in his voice. “I accept my new position with full awareness to my new responsibilities, and I will have many of them.” He struck a commanding pose, hands on his hips. “I would first like to address many of the questions that had been asked earlier. The rumors about Amn’s mobilization for war are entirely true, as is the involvement of their Zhentarim cohorts. But do not worry, we are not bereft of a defense. Although the recent Zhentish attempt at depriving us of the most valuable war resource, iron, has weakened us, it has not crippled us. When my father was most recently murdered, I inherited his control over the western branch of the Iron Throne. They have a great deal of stockpiled iron, enough for all of our needs. I will give this to the city to do with as you will. Unfortunately our greatest military commander lies on his death bed, a grievous blow to this city. To insure that the Flaming Fist is well led, I will be assuming control of the mercenary regiment, with permission from its current steward, Angelo.” Behind me, I heard voices from the other doorway leading out of the small room in which I stood. Kivan was arguing with the guard commander, and the commander was demanding to know why first he had been so eager to get him to follow him, and was now trying to delay him. I mentally flipped a coin to honor Tymora, hoping Sarevok would make his move before my presence here was unmasked. “Wait one moment, that is not in your power to decide,” Belt was meanwhile protesting in the hall. “Shut up, let Sarevok speak,” demanded one of the nobles. “Instead of waiting for the war to come to us, we will take it to them,” calmly continued Sarevok. From the expressions on the faces of the two Grand Dukes, they did not agree with this plan at all. “With the Flaming Fist we should be able to easily take the town of Nashkel, and then quickly fortify the mountain pass through the Cloud Peaks.” I could hear footsteps from the door behind me; in moments, the guards would enter. It was time to stop waiting, and act. I hissed to those around me that they must attack anyone trying to harm the Grand Dukes; I would take care of myself. I called out behind me, yelling to the guards who were still not visible that the Grand Dukes were in danger. I ran into the grand hall. To my pleasant surprise, I found I was running much more quickly than normal. Imoen’s command of her magics had become quite impressive. I stopped before the assembled Grand Dukes. “What!? Who dares to interrupt!” stormed Sarevok. As I had hoped, the transformed nobles took my sudden appearance as the signal to attack. Half a dozen nobles became doppelgangers. Sarevok stepped back, no doubt as part of the plan, so that the real nobles in the hall would see the assassins first kill Belt and Liia. By the time they got to Sarevok, the guards would have arrived, beating them off. The assembled nobles were then to declare Sarevok virtual dictator by

197 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast acclamation. A desperate plan, which was not guaranteed to succeed even if I was not present. However, I was present, and in position to stop him. The doppelgangers leaped at the Grand Dukes. I struck at the backs of the doppelgangers. The assembled nobles mainly cried out in fear and backed away from the combat. In a few moments, the Flaming Fist guards joined the battle against the doppelgangers. With backup from the rest of my party, the doppelgangers were quickly destroyed. The Grand Dukes, although injured, were not seriously hurt. “It was lucky that such brave persons as yourselves intervened on our behalf,” said Belt. “Is there anything that I can do for you in return.” “We have Sarevok’s diary!” I held it out to him. “Take a look through it. Sarevok is the one who tried to kill you, had Entar killed and nearly killed Eltan.” “I’ll take a look,” stated Belt, “but if you’re wrong, the punishment for such false accusations is severe.” “Angelo!” yelled Sarevok. “These are the ones wanted on multiple counts of murder, kill them.” Belt held up his hand. “They are not to be touched until I have finished reading these documents.” “You don’t need to read that document,” snarled Sarevok, “but since I know you’re too stupid to take my advice, I’ll just take your head.” Sarevok pulled the two handed sword from his back, yelling, “You and I aren’t finished yet, Rolanna. I’ll kill you, just as I killed Gorion. The only way you’ll ever live in peace is if you kill me first.” He advanced towards me, saying, “Killing is our father’s work; embrace it as I have.” Before we could exchange blows, one of the men with Sarevok cast a spell. Sarevok and his party disappeared. “I think it is in your best interest to hunt Sarevok and kill him before he does the same to you.” Belt obviously needed no more convincing of Sarevok’s evil intent. “I think you’re right, the only problem is finding the bastard.” “Through the power of my god, I should be able to divine his location. Just wait a moment, and I’ll tell you where he has gone.” He concentrated a few moments before continuing. “He has been teleported to the Thieves Guild. I will dimension fold you to where he has gone. From there you can follow him, and kill him. Good luck.” I found myself with the others of my party, Imoen, Yeslick, Kivan, Jaheira and Khalid, standing in the Thieves Guild. A thief cried out at our appearance. “What is this! It seems like everyone’s crashing in on the Thieves Guild these days. First that huge armored guy, and now you! You better tell me what you’re here about, and right quick, or you’re in a lot of trouble!” “We’re tracking down Sarevok…the huge armored guy. Where did he go?” “He went down the stairs right over there. He was sure in a hurry. Down there’s the thief warrens, and they’re really dangerous.”

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We ran down the indicated stairs. At the bottom was an injured thief, lying against the wall and trying to stop the bleeding in her side with her hand. “Blast you all thrice over! I don’t know who you be, but if you are in league with him that cut me down you can all go straight to Hades! May the spirits of those that built this maze take you down!” “You look injured. Who has done this to you?” “Who? Sarevok it was! I recognized him from when I was…eh…'exploring’ the Iron Throne base the other day. I’ll be alright, he was in too much of a hurry to do a proper job on me. You’ve got my blessings if you’re tracking him down.” “Could you guide me through the maze so I can find him?” “Ha! Er…I mean, no. No, I won’t be doing that. I ain’t ever seen anyone walk out of that maze alive. Not that you won’t survive or anything. I bet you just waltz through without a problem. Yes sir. I’ll just wait here to hear about it though. I ain’t got no wish to meet the undead that maintain her, nor the jellies that keep her clean. Gotta…gotta catch my breath, you understand.” “Where does the maze lead?” “I don’t rightly know, though it is said there is a city beneath this one. Some archaeologist smart-arsed sage might be able to tell you more about it. It’s not a proper city down there, you understand. Just the remains. Not surprising, really. If the site that Baldur’s Gate is built on is so appealing, it would figure that there would have been one built here before. I care little: nothing but dead down there now. Get moving.” “I understand. Rest ye well.” Yeslick cast a quick curing on her wound. “Yeah, whatever. Just you be sure to give that Sarevok a shank o’ steel.” The warren of narrow passages indeed formed a maze. We faced jellies and skeletal undead, as well as deadly traps. We fought our way down one passage and up another. We finally ended up at an opening; a slight breeze pulled at our backs, disappearing into the blackness before us. Before the doorway lay a wounded man. I recognized him as the mage who had cast the teleportation spell back in the grand hall. “Well well,” he coughed, “I thought it would be you. Quite the little family reunion shaping up now, isn’t it? I knew you would follow; you two are of the same blood. You must take the fight to him, lest he strike you down at his leisure. Not that it will matter; you have already beaten him. His plans are in ruins and his allies are fleeing in droves. Such glorious goals they were, though none understood the true desire behind them. None but me, that is. Unfortunately I am now expendable, but I expected no less.” “What was your role in this? Why did you help him if you knew you were to be cast aside?” “What was my role? I was Sarevok’s mentor, and tutored him in the blackest of rituals. If he were to succeed there is no doubt I would be among the dead, but my name would live on in his wake. There are things beyond death if you die in the right fashion, and how could there not be a place in history for the architect that shaped the actions of

199 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast the ascending Lord of Murder? You would not understand; you were born to affect the Realms. The rest of us must carve our own place by whatever means necessary.” “Where has he gone? He cannot hope to hide from me!” “Oh, Sarevok is not intent on hiding. You have stripped him of any pretense; there is no longer any point in him maintaining his respectable veneer. Only the most fanatical or fearful of his allies stand by him now. He will gather what resources he can and move on. Of course he knows that you must come to confront him and that it is to his advantage to choose the battleground. There is an altar in the Undercity; it was to be where the ritual would take place, but now serves as his last refuge.” If anyone besides Sarevok deserved death, it was the one before me. But despite my heritage from the Lord of Murder, I was sick of death. “I would kill you, but perhaps the anonymity you have attained is punishment enough. Get out of my sight!” I told Yeslick to bandage his wounds, but not to waste any magical healing that we might need. “Your ‘charity’ is admirable. You have definitely taken a separate path than Sarevok, though I wonder if it shall truly matter in the end. Leave me, I am no longer a threat to you or anyone. I’m just going to rest here a while.” The opening led into a natural tunnel. The tunnel led to a cavern. In the cavern were the ruins of a city. We entered one of the streets of this long forgotten place. Ghouls swarmed forth to attack, but after we killed a few the rest ran off. Ahead in the street approached a party of six. Sarevok was not among them, leaving me wondering who they were. “A rather strange place to meet living members of the sunlit realms,” greeted their leader when they got closer, “I am curious as to why you are here. Could I rightly assume that you have something in common with the man Sarevok Anchev?” “We have nothing to do with Sarevok! He is a vile man, deserving only death.” “You have a strong hatred of him then? He doesn’t seem to be that skilled at making friends. I am Rahvin, in the employ of the Iron Throne. My companions and I have traveled from Sembia to learn what has been happening to our operations in Baldur’s Gate. It seems that Sarevok has been quite busy, murdering Rieltar and any other who got in his way. What he’s done to you is anyone’s guess... Wait! I recognize you now. You’re Rolanna! Ah…so you’ve come down here to end your crusade against the Iron Throne. Well, it’ll be simple enough to dispatch you before we do Sarevok. My superiors will be quite happy to learn of your demise.” I would have been willing to join forces against our common enemy, but instead they forced a battle, a battle they lost. After the battle was over and they lay dead, I told my companions to rest and recuperate for a while. Sarevok was waiting for us; he could wait as long we needed to prepare ourselves. As I rested, I slipped into sleep. In sleep, I was the monster everyone claimed I was; the kobold scorned like a rodent; the ogre that children fear comes in the night. The mobs

200 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast and their torches now came for me, counting me among the creatures I once did hunt. Or so someone would have had me believe. Again I heard the voice; a voice that now made no secret of its origins. It spoke of destiny and nature, and of evils bred in the bone. It said I would never be free of the mob; that they would hunt me for what I was. Murder and death ran through my heart, and accepting that would supposedly give me power. The essence of Bhaal within me could not be ignored. But I had not ignored it. I realized that from the first I had fought the very blood in my veins, fought dagger and claw for each victory, and, at least for now, I had triumphed. With righteous will, I had turned the dark forces within me to good purpose. Whatever the foundation of my being, I had remade myself in my own image. Amidst threats it did not yet know were empty, the voice tried to play upon my doubts, but found none. As I stared unwavering, the presence grew weaker and weaker. As it faded from my mind, one warning did stand out amidst the din. It spoke of others that would listen where I had not, others that would embrace what I had rejected, and others that would be my death. This described but one man, and I knew of no other it could be. He who orchestrated my fall, deceived my comrades, and deserved all that my justice should mete upon him. Sarevok. I awoke. I considered the information I had received regarding Sarevok, but I also considered the source. I wasn’t going to allow myself to be pushed into any course of action. After our rest, we continued down the broad street. Ahead, a large building was visible off to our right, surrounded by a tall wall. From what I could see, the building looked intact, unlike the other structures around us, which were mostly just the stumps of walls. When we reached the gate in the wall surrounding the building, we found Tamoko waiting for us. Somehow, she must have learned of Sarevok’s flight and sought him out. “Hello again, Rolanna. I fear this time I have not come to speak, and must take up arms against you. You have…you have done what you must, I suppose. Sarevok knows of my treachery, you know. He has forsaken me, left me to die in your path. I must fight to regain his trust, his…attention. And so I stand before you, knowing that if I defeat you he will continue his plans elsewhere and I shall lose him, and if you defeat me, you shall go on to kill him. He will not yield to either of us. I have…I have no choice.” Perhaps it was only the romantic idealism of someone who has never experienced the emotion, but I thought Tamoko’s only real crime lay in loving the wrong man. I found that in my heart I could even forgive her aid in attacking Gorion. “I cannot harm you. You are not my enemy.” “You must!” she cried, blocking the gateway with drawn weapon. “I stand before you, I block your path! I am an obstacle that holds you back! You will free…you will fight me!” “If you would throw your life away, then you are already dead. If that is your choice, then you do not need me.”

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“You…you are not so alike after all,” she said, tears springing to her eyes. “He would not have hesitated for an instant. Perhaps…perhaps it is more than his blood that makes him the way he is. I have been a fool. Go! Your path is clear and I wish you well. One last word in passing: beware of the blindness of those who would follow, and the damnable lure of those who would lead. A fool I was, and others are still. Ready yourself for the fire to come.” She sheathed her weapon, turning to walk down the street I had just come from. The double doors of the building were intact, despite the passage of years. We prepared, casting spells upon ourselves, and discussing plans. I pushed open the doors, striding forward to lead the others into the building. We stood in a hall, occupying the entire interior. Statuary along the walls, along with the general design, led me to believe this must once have been a temple. A symbol, a face in a stylized circle, was carved into the floor at the center of the room. It was unfamiliar to me. At the far end of the hall was a dais, with what once must have been an altar at the far end. On the dais stood Sarevok, Angelo, Tazok and a nameless mage who had been with him in the Ducal Palace. “You are indeed family,” bellowed Sarevok. “No other could have lived to oppose me in person. Of course, it will not matter in the end. Ultimately I will prevail, and a new era will be born unto the Realms.” Despite the assassins hired to kill me, I believe Sarevok actually hoped I would survive, and grow stronger. After all, what better way to cap his bloody try at godhood than to kill another child of Bhaal almost as strong as himself? His plans hadn’t worked out quite as he had hoped. I found the confrontation wasn’t as I had expected, either. I was able to feel pity for him. Sarevok was only fulfilling the dead dream of a dead god. Perhaps, if he had been fortunate enough to experience my upbringing, he could have been different. Perhaps it wasn’t too late, if only I could convince him. “There must be another way, brother! We could rally, and fight this evil together!” “Do you not yet realize? There is no great evil to fight, save that within ourselves!” “But together we could face such evil, regardless of its source. Together we could be stronger!” “I cannot be stronger; I am strong now!” There was no doubt in his voice; despite all that had happened, he still had the conviction of the insane in his success. “It is you who are the weak one, you who destroyed your slayer within. I have tamed mine, and use him as I see fit! The god is dead but his power is there, waiting for a will. That will is mine, and all others will fall by the wayside! Come and face your brother! Face me! Face the new Lord of Murder! Angelo! Tazok! Let’s finish this now!” Sarevok raised his great two-handed sword over his head, wordlessly yelling his anger at the world. The nameless mage died then. Yeslick dispelled the magical protections about him, and two arrows from Kivan and Khalid ended his life. Sarevok and Tazok rushed forward. Somewhere in the maze behind us Tazok had lost his helm, leaving his bestial, snarling head visible. Creatures appeared around

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Sarevok. Imoen was keeping to the plan, distracting Sarevok while we concentrated on his minions first. With a cry of rage, Kivan started sending arrows towards Tazok, seeking to avenge the death of his beloved Deheriana. Angelo had stayed back on the dais, and was now launching potent arrows our way, which burst in fire when they struck. I ran towards him, again greatly speeded by Imoen’s magic. He drew a blade at my approach. I crossed swords with him, and almost immediately nicked his arm. He was still wearing the finery he had on at the Ducal Palace. He had cast magical shielding about himself, but it was insufficient to turn my blade. I concentrated on offense, ignoring Angelo’s blows, which did not penetrate my armor. I landing a heavy blow on his swordarm, causing his weapon to skitter away across the stone floor. He gaped at me. I didn’t hesitate; a swipe of my sword lifted his head from his shoulders. Behind me, Jaheira was calling out my name. I turned around. Sarevok had almost finished with the monsters surrounding him. The party members were clustered near the temple door, although I couldn’t make out if Imoen was with them. If she was no longer conjuring monsters, I feared what might have happened to her. With a shout, I raced towards Sarevok. As I ran, I vaulted over the corpse of Tazok, an arrow sticking from his throat, another from his left eye. “Your death is inevitable!” yelled Sarevok, turning on me. He swung his two-handed sword. I blocked with my shield, but the power behind the blow was immense, numbing my arm. I found myself backing away, trying to dodge blows, barely able to move my shield. I managed a few weak return cuts, but they only shallowly scarred his armor. Sarevok was wearing full plate, completely covering his body, except for his head. There, his helm was shaped like a demon’s head, its gaping maw allowing a view of his face. He was careful to keep his head turned away from my friends, the only place my friends’ arrows and sling stones could easily bite. “My blade will cut you down to size!” Imoen yelled from near at hand. Sarevok screamed. Imoen had appeared behind him, thrusting her short sword into his back. Sarevok whirled, catching Imoen in the side with his sword as she tried to back away. His blow threw her to side; she had nearly been severed. With Sarevok’s back to me, I could see a narrow, bloody gap between his breastplate and the armor below, where Imoen had made her thrust. With a cry of mingled hurt and rage, I aimed for the same spot, driving my sword into him. With another scream Sarevok collapsed to the ground. I crouched over the hilt of my sword, pushing, driving it completely through his body. Sarevok turned to look at me. “I do not fear death…do you?” he whispered. His eyes closed. His flesh, his sinews, even his bones, began to dissolve before my eyes, fading, gone. I was holding the hilt of a sword thrust through empty armor.

Postscript I gathered up the body of my closest friend Imoen. I also took Sarevok’s sword, to prove to the Grand Dukes that he was dead. I heard that later, when the Flaming Fist

203 Baldur’s Gate and Tales of the Sword Coast came back to the ruined temple, they found the bodies missing, no doubt dragged off by ghouls. I returned to the Temple of Helm as soon as I reached the surface. There they were able to resurrect Imoen. I have never been so relieved as when Imoen opened her eyes, sat up, and said, “You old rumjake fool! Lets get back to traveling the good road, eh?” While we were still all expressing our joy at Imoen’s rejoining us, and Imoen was trying to pretend nothing special had happened, Elminster walked into the temple. “Why, hello!” he greeted me. “A glorious end to this bit of unpleasant business, was it not? I would not expect great accolades for your efforts, however, as this matter is likely to be hushed as soon as possible. Still, many of the Realm know of thy battle and think highly of thee for it. A great evil has been routed; let us hope that others of this unfortunate heritage do not seek the same path.” Jaheira some days later confided that when she had asked around among her Harper friends, the consensus was that on death Sarevok’s soul had joined that of his dead father, which explained his odd dissolution. Others can hope for some sort of afterlife when they die. I can only expect to share the nothingness of my dead father, Bhaal. All the more reason to make the most of the only life I have. I asked Yeslick to record my thoughts on what had happened to me, this record, in which I was aided by Imoen’s great memory. Reading what he has written, I see that Yeslick has chosen to twist what I have told him, sometimes even adding words I don’t understand. But the meaning still comes through. I hope what is written here will prove of use to those who come after me. * * * “Some tales defy all logic or explanation when posed to the sane mind, and it is a story just so that I give to you now. Much of it is already known, due to the celebrity of those involved, though many may find it truly shocking how deep the seeds of destruction were sown. Beloved Sarevok, a man among men, set to all but rule the coast, was actually a core architect of the very iron shortage that so unraveled the economy of the land, and had a hand in the poisoning of Duke Eltan that directly led to his rise to power. We were but seconds away from the first step down that path when from the shadows again stepped the unknown group of my previous tales. None can say definitively what happened next, though it is certain that Sarevok was pursued to the very bottom of the Undercity, and from there he did not return. I’ll wager many would just as soon have seen him chased to the 9th plane itself, as he hurt many of the folk of the land, both directly and indirectly.” Volothamp Geddarm

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