Fear & Loathing in Luskan: A Savage (Frontier) Jou

This is a sort of companion piece for the "IWD2 Portraits & Bios" thread. This is a story, that one is discrete bios. You don't need to read either to understand the other though.

This is set in, or rather just before, Icewind Dale 2; although it does tie into some BG characters. Don't worry, there are no game spoilers. The game opens in Targos, saying the party has arrived via a ship from Luskan. This is a little "prequel" about how the party got together in Luskan in the first place.

Finally, this is, as you've probably surmised, also a crossover/parody of Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas, by Hunter S. Thompson. (now a movie as well!)



FEAR & LOATHING IN LUSKAN: A SAVAGE (FRONTIER) JOURNEY TO THE HEART OF FAERUNIAN ADVENTURING

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Whoever fights monsters should see to it that in the process he does not become a monster. And when you look into the abyss, the abyss also looks into you.

- Nietzsche (opening quote of Baldur's Gate)

He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man.

-Dr. Johnson (opening quote of Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas)

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We were just outside Port Llast when the lotus began to take hold.

"You take the reigns!" I said to Gonzo. I was feeling a bit lightheaded. Then suddenly, all around, I could see great screeching wyverns bearing down on us. No sense telling the poor bastard about them, I thought. He'll see them soon enough.

Where was I? Yes. Hello, I am Duke, this is my colleague Gonzo. We were zooming up the Coast Road, just one, long, burn-out stretch before Luskan. We'd been in Neverwinter only 24-hours ago, and now we were just blazing the road, sitting up front on a stagecoach pulled by twin black stallions, fine animals, yes sir. And it's a good thing, because we had to make it Luskan and to the Flamingo Inn by sundown. What, you say? Yes, I'm a bard, a doctor of lore actually, and I'd been sent to get the news and scribe the tale. Seems there was trouble in the Ten-Towns of Icewind Dale, and Luskan was in a real way right now, with mercenaries, adventurers, and all-around braggarts setting out from there. So here we were, driving our two-horse coach (a classic '58 Strider) up to that lawless pirate city. In the coach, we had two kegs of Firemead, a gallon of Thayvian vodka, four decanters of opium, three vials of orc-adrenaline, a bag of holding just full of black lotus, and a magical galaxy of potions and scrolls with all kinds of fun effects. And a pint of pure purple dragon vemon. Now that was foul stuff, and I knew we'd be getting to it pretty soon.

"Hey!" I shouted to Gonzo, who was whipping the reigns around like some drunken idiot on lotus. Which he was. "The horses need to go faster! I'm gonna go back in the coach for a second, to get some of those haste scrolls!"

"Man, that'll really make 'em ride! Yeehaw!" Gonzo shouted, laughing carelessly into the wind. Typical, I thought. Yes.

So I clambered back from the drivers' seats over the roof of the coach, and opened the sunroof to climb down inside it.

"Hey, you blithering Clueless!" came a female voice from within the sunroof I had just opened. "Close that door! You're letting the fumes out and the accursed sunlight in!"

Oh yes, I reminded myself, suddenly feeling quite sheepish. The two girls. Tieflings, they hate sunlight. I had quite forgotten all about them. Let me explain.

Just yesterday in Neverwinter, no sooner had we heard about the event in Luskan than we managed to meet two young hellspawn women planning to partake in this glorious experiment of adventure and heroism in the north. What a boon, I thought, here I am supposed to cover this story, and now I've got two live interviews! Well, they needed a ride, I needed a tale, so here we were.

"Holy Mask!" I thought, as black lotus fumes assaulted me when I crawled down through the sunroof and into the cabin. "It smells like an aodamn hotbox in here!"

"That's the idea, you twit!" shouted the same girl. "What are you, some sort of virtue-pushing paladin?"

"Oh no," I said, "I hate those pigs. They can make good tales, but they are vicious swine!"

The girls laughed. They were smoking their way well into my bag of lotus, in fact all they'd been doing since Neverwinter was lounging together in the comfortable coach and puffing up, but I did not mind. I had plenty to spare for my passengers, and they were paying me well for their trip (to so speak, ho ho).

Now where was I? Yes, the one who had spoken was Chami (Chamilienne Spectrana). She was a fair-skin raven-haired beauty - if you didn't mind the forked tongue and snake-fangs in her mouth, or the reptilian claws she had for fingernails. She wore an orange robe. She had a fixation with death, a depraved addiction much like she had for my lotus, it seemed, and she was one of those foul necromancers, and not bad with a sword. She was originally from Luskan actually, but more recently the Sigil, with her friend, Chyrel'Dalis, who had waist-length hair as bright orange as Chami's robe. Chyrel was a picklock and cutpurse by trade, but also knew a little magic herself. She was a Sigil native and the little sister of the Brothers Dalis - Jakk, Seth, and Haer, colleagues and old friends of mine whom any other bard worth his salt (or any other quasielement) should know.

"Listen!" I said, sitting next to Chyrel with my own lotus joint still clamped between my teeth. She seemed frightened, and leaned against her friend, and I realized I was too loud for this small, smoky coach. "Sorry," I said, "Been outside too long with that fool Gonzo, you know. Yes, as I was saying, I know your brothers well, Chyrel, but it has been quite some time. If you see them before I do, please tell them Duke says aloha."

"Tell them to go to hell," Chami scoffed disdainfully.

"Aren't they sort of already there?" I scratched my head.

"Well they can go to an even lower plane then!" the serpentine girl yelled. "Haer is an untalented, pint-sized, cheating, lying little man-slut, and his brothers are boorish hacks!" I was not caught off guard by her outburst. I had learned that this girl had a cold heart and a hot temper.

"I did not know this," I said blankly. "But it has been some time." As you can see, I am a professional when it comes to bardic neutrality. The other girl was the bards' brother, and I did not want to take sides. It does not do, in my profession, to argue with or incense your story.

"What Chami is trying to say," Chyrel told me while gripping her friend's hand as if to restrain her from leaping up and tearing the roof of the coach with her bare claws, "Is that she recently got out of a rather - abruptly ended - relationship with Haer."

Oh ho, I thought, he is known for such things. I last knew Haer'Dalis during his Inner Planes fetish days. In fact, I'd had a bet with him that he couldn't simultaneously get an affair going with a female from each of the elemental, paraelemental, and quasielemental planes. The bastard had fleeced me for 5000 gold! I felt like a fool, and I've never gambled with him since. We are both still big players and high rollers though. I hear now Haer has a wager going with Incubus. That's Chami's father actually, a demon whose practice is to force himself upon females in their sleep. Chami's mother though, the late conjurer Serpenienne, summoned him deliberately, so they say. As you can see, I already knew a few things about Chami. And I knew Haer had that wager with Incubus, and now I'd just found out he seduced Incubus's daughter recently. That is interesting indeed. Is there a connction? If so, with the bet or the payoff? Ho ho.

"And I should have abruptly ended him!" Chami hissed, her forked tongue flicking menacingly.

"She almost did, and so Jakk and Seth thought she should leave their troupe, and so we came here," Chyrel explained. "I didn't like what they did to Chami either," she smiled at her friend.

"Well," I said, "If it's any consolation, his philandering his cheated me out of things too."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Duke," Chyrel said kindly to me. I elected not to explain that it was gold, not a girl, that I was referring to, expecting she'd have less sympathy for that sort of thing. Then again, she's a hellspawn thief and a 'Dalis, so who knows?

Just then the coach began to shake and swerve violently, and Chyrel and Chami gripped each other and Chyrel asked, "Are we under attack?" reaching for her crossbow.

"Oh no," I laughed, "It's just that fool Gonzo at the reigns. He must have found the purple dragon venom. I just came down here to get two haste scrolls for the horses, actually, it's been nice talking but I should tend to Gonzo. Don't worry!" I said as I pocketed the scrolls and crawled back up through the sunroof, "This is nothing out of the ordinary! He is prone to this sort of behavior all the time!"

With that I shut the sunroof over the girls' heads and crawled back across the top of the coach to the driving seats.

"You're a vile animal!" I screamed at Gonzo, who was shrieking and jerking the reigns this way and that, and swatting at the air. I knew he'd find those wyverns! "Give me that!" I said, grabbing for the reigns.

With one hand I steadied the black stallions, and with the other I grabbed for the handkerchief Gonzo was holding, put it over my face, and inhaled. Yes, that's purple dragon, I thought. Ah, let me explain. Purple dragons, you see, are a rare an offshoot of the green dragon, some say Mask created them as a practical joke long ago, but who cares. The point is that, rather that toxic chlorine gas, purple dragon's breath is confusing psychotic laughing gas (absolutely temporary, of course, barring prolonged exposure). Now, the 'venom' in the vial is the juice from the glands in their neck they use to create the gas, and by dampening a rag with it, you can get the same outrageous affect is if you were battling one and he breathed on you. This way though, you don't get eaten afterwards, except perhaps by your own depravity.

"That's good stuff," Gonzo laughed.

"No, you fool!" I screamed at him. "I've been robbed! He said the dragon was at least three thousand years old! I know my purple dragon, and that's no more than one thousand! It's okay stuff, but curse him forever!"

Then I remembered the haste scrolls. Yes, time for those. Now, casting with a head full of black lotus and purple dragon, either from a scroll or from memory, is no easy thing, and took great concentration. Luckily, I was a master at this sort of thing (it had proved, on many occasions like this one, to be a skill worth having). Handing the rag back to Gonzo, I pulled out one of the scrolls, peeked at it, and I uttered a stream of obscure unfamiliar sylllables, and the scroll vaporized in my hand, but just then the right stallion whinneyed loudly and began to speed up.

"Holy mother of Torm!" I shouted as he started running at twice the speed of the horse on his left, which started causing the coach to turn. I yanked the reigns back to the right to try to straighten them out, but this was looking grim.

"Let me take the reigns," Gonzo groaned, "You'll never get the second one off now."

"Silence!" I shouted and pulled out the other scroll. While steering desperately, I began reading from it, but then those wyverns came flying all around me and screeching in my face and I couldn't concentrate but the next thing I knew I finished the spell.

"Ho ho!" I laughed at Gonzo, feeling quite proud. But just then the left horse, instead of speeding up, began to shapeshift into a wyvern. "It's the fault of those foul wyverns!" I cried, pointing up at the sky. "One flew into my aodamn ear and got to my brain! That's how it got into the spell!"

"Fuckin' wyverns," Gonzo bellowed, inhaling from the rag again.

"Quick!" I shouted, "We need a dispel magic!"

"Oh no," Gonzo laughed, "Too late, man." He pointed at the wyvern, which was devouring the other horse and gave a horrid shriek with blood and gore dripping from its maw. Luckily for us, it continued running, taking the coach along as fast as ever. "Maybe we can just fly there," Gonzo giggled, flapping his arms like a chicken.

How right he was.

The wyvern gave another shriek, flapped its wings, and jumped into the air, starting to tug the coach up.

"Don't just sit there, you fool!" I yelled at Gonzo furiously. "We've got to attach the reins to the back of the Strider, or it'll be turned upside down when that winged bastard takes off!"

I hopped up, yanking Gonzo by the arm, and we immediately ran to the back of the roof of the coach. We attached the two reins to each of the two back corners, and when the wyvern finally went high enough to pull us off the ground, the Strider jerked and swung forward but then hung beneath his belly, roped from all four corners. It was not unlike a small version of that airship contraption of Oswald Fiddlebender of Kuldahar. (Don?t be surprised. I know him well. He is by far the best supplier for chemicals in Icewind Dale).

"It's like a hot air balloon, man," Gonzo tried to high five me, but unfortunately the oaf slipped, and his foot went plunging through the thin sunroof, and two tieflingess shrieks could be heard from within the coach as Gonzo got stuck up to his thigh.

"Get up you beast!" I roared and pulled him back up onto the roof. There was now a hole, but luckily, the wyvern's shadow prevented the sunlight from getting through. I looked up at the wyvern, which was flapping and shieking, and I prayed he would not decide the coach hanging from his harness was a picnic basket. "Now you'll have to help me fly the Strider the rest of the way to Luskan!"

And what then? Stay tuned.

-Duke

FEAR & LOATHING IN LUSKAN: IRATE PIRATES

We arrived in Luskan with as little incident as can be expected when a '58 Strider piloted by gassed up minstrels is hanging under the belly of a flying wyvern.

Luskan is quite a different town from Neverwinter, where we?d been just yesterday, yes sir. Neverwinter is a fair city that is usually sunny, never snowy (for once a genuine placename, eh?), and quite a nice place to live. Extensive shops, beaches, gardens. And a mecca for performing arts, no doubt. Oh, it has a tawdier underworld to be sure, but that?s par for the course.

Luskan is a much seedier place, where rough types spend money on gambling and prostitutes, commerce is run by the gangster-by-any-other-name ?high captains?, and the weather is far more extreme. And once a place is Twisted, the tendency is for it to get bent further so the Greedheads can squeeze everything out of it. The game is to be the one getting what falls out, not the one getting squeezed. But I was just here to scribe a story.

We managed to get the wyvern to plop us down right in the middle of the Luskan boardwalk. The landing was gentle enough, but when I looked around at the crowd, which had become a thousand shrieking apes, I realized my folly. Luskan is not a good town for flashy entrances. I knew this. The wyvern devoured the first city guard that approached, and then pulled the coach along as he reached for a second helping.

"Untie the reigns!" I shouted to Gonzo. "We can't control him here! He's a wild beast now!" We did so, and there was a certain irony to what ensued. You see, we were the true cause of all the commotion, and yet the loose wyvern managed to captivate all the attention, and we found the city guard and the pirates leaving us alone. At least, for now.

We had to get the Strider out though before the wyvern stopped stealing the show. But how? Could Gonzo and I really move the coach ourselves? Would we have to get the tieflings and the supplies out and flee before pirates or thieves or police (so much semantics, eh?) overran us? But what about our precious '58 Strider?

"Drink this," I told Gonzo, taking a flask from my belt and shoving it in his face. He downed it with no hesitations or questions. Gonzo can be a very reliable associate, if you know how to present things. "Now get down there and pull!" I ordered him, tying what remained of the harness around him and then kicking him off the seat and onto the cobblestones. I took my riding whip out and began to lash his sorry back. "Pull us, damn you! Pull us! That was a Bull?s Strength potion! You want to act like a depraved beast, now you have the might of one! Get us out of this circus of violent thieves!"

Gonzo began to run forward as I flailed him, tugging us with his harness and the coach, slowly but surely, began to roll. "Atta boy!" I told him but my whipping did not cease.

Luckily for us, the Flamingo Inn was at a slight downhill from our current location, just down the boardwalk actually, and we reached it without further incident, as the wyvern had taken to the opposite direction. "Into the stable!" I told Gonzo, and when he pulled us indoors into a coach stall and to relative safety (and a decent place to park), I jumped down and untied him.

"Alright," I said to the tiefling girls as I poked my head down through the hole in the sunroof, "We're here. The Flamingo Inn. Gonzo and I are basing our story from here, and if you're still looking to join a larger adventuring party, this is the place, yes sir."

With that I opened the sunroof and climbed down in. While the girls put on some more clothes (wise, I thought, Luskan is a cold town, and full of leering pirate swine) and packed the rest of their belongings, which they had carelessly strewn about the coach, into their backpacks, I pulled a suitcase out of a drawer and began to load up the bag of lotus, the potion and scroll cases, the decanters of vodka and opium, and my other belongings. But what about the two kegs of Firemead? One of them was still almost full.

"Gonzo!" I shouted as I left the coach, for once by the normal door, holding the keg. "Strap this to your beastly back and carry it, you lazy pig!" Loath at the prospect of leaving it in the stable, he did. Good man. I inhaled from the purple dragon rag for good measure.

As soon as we got inside, the girls headed with purposeful strides behind the bar, and I could hear them speaking about getting a room, and within a minute they were up the stairs. I looked around through the main floor tavern of the Flamingo, and then everything started to go wrong. All the patrons and adventurers were actually a bunch of giant lizardmen! And someone was giving booze to these aodamn animals!

I quickly hit the floor and latched onto Gonzo's leg, my blood filled with the Fear. "Let's get our rooms already and get the nine hells out of here!" I screamed, and some of the lizardmen turned to look at me. Oh no, I thought, I've done it now!

"Sorry about him," Gonzo laughed toward the nearest table, "He has a bad heart and his prone to episodes of weakness." My associate managed to pry me from his leg and communicate to the bartender about our room, and he seemed more than eager to give us one, and point us to the stairs. Good man. Luskan is a town you can get along in, if you play it just right.

Luckily, all the lizardmen had gone by this time, and the other patrons had reemerged, seeing as I did that relative safety had returned. But for how long?

"Hey man, it's a half-orc!" Gonzo pointed to the door and grabbed my shoulder after handing me one of the pints of Luskan Ale he'd gotten. Yes, sure enough. Actually, this man could almost have passed for a human, but I could recognize the flaring jowls, the jutting forehead, and the stocky build.

"Probably a quarter-orc," I told my associate, "Have you gotten into our stash of adrenal extract already?" I asked, but one look into his wild eyes told me the answer. "Never mind," I said.

This orcish man wore simple brown clothes, some sort of leather jerkin and leggings, not quite armor, and seemed to carry little. He appeared to be alone, but not for long. Murmurs and shouts and jeers, some of which told me that I hadn?t been the only one to notice this man?s lineage, danced around the Flamingo tavern like wildfire and one group of burly pirates stood up from their mugs and yelled "Hey, half-breed!" straight in his face. "You lookin' for a fight?"

I expected the orc-man to pounce upon him with his tusks bared, but instead he merely turned away and calmly appraised the rest of the room. How strange.

"You hear me, half-breed?" the large, swarthy sailor bellowed again and stepped into the man's path. "You stupid or something?" The orc-man turned away, but the sailor's fellows had surrounding him, forming a huge circular wall that we could barely see through. Most of the other patrons furtively stole their voyeuristic glances, but Gonzo and I stood up proudly on our table and looked down.

"I have no quarrel, sir," the simply dressed half-orc said simply, and stood his ground. He looked neither aggressive, nor afraid. How odd.

"Let's give him a quarrel, Sebas!" one of the smaller sailors laughed, looking at the first speaker, who was also the largest I noted, for approval. One of the other sailors gave a grunt-chuckle and pushed the orc-man, who didn't budge and barely glanced at his assailant.

"Alright," Sebas laughed, showing a mouth of sparse rotten teeth between his curly black beard and moustache, which hung off his dark face like a monstrous black sheep carcass. He rolled up his sleeves and clenched his fists.

"Wagers! Wagers!" the small sailor laughed, "Sebas and the mule!"

The crowd, which had been quiet, was now as loud and busy as a pack of feasting vultures, most of them holding up handfuls of coins and shouting ?Sebas!?.

"Two-to-one!" the little pirate called out, and now some of the voices called for the mule instead.

"You gonna wager, man?" Gonzo asked me in between chortles of his ale. "Go on the bigger guy, even two-to-one."

I thought carefully. Yes, the lone man had orc-blood, and was large, at least six-and-six and two-twenty, and quite muscular, but this swarthy Sebas fellow actually was much larger, about seven and two-fifty at least. I appraised them both carefully, which was difficult in the dim, filthy tavern. Now, I'm no sucker for long shots, even fools who've fleeced me will say that. The orc-blood wasn't really that important; each was sleeveless and nearly shirtless and I could gauge well their strength. And I was good at this sort of thing, I was a Professional Risk-Taker. But something about the way the orc-man moved, or rather didn't move, struck me. Most couldn't stand as still and firm as he even when they weren't in a situation like this one, surrounded by a dozen violent sailors, that would have had them shaking like hypothermiacs in withdrawal. Yes, this man was some sort of Professional too. But what sort? Sebas was a born-and-bred fighter, probably some cutlass-wielding thief-rapist of the high seas, and this man was a different sort. Too much control, even for a disciplined swordsman. Too quiet, and too underdressed, for a knight. Then it hit me. A monk!

"Holy Ao!" I screamed, and then quickly wrapped my hands over my mouth. It wouldn't do to give my inside information away. Ho ho.

"I'll take 100 on the mule!" I said, holding aloft a bag of coins. My offer was quickly taken up by some fat booze-monkey. He had the bag, though.

"I'll not fight for gold," the orc-man said simply to Sebas.

"That's right, half-breed," Sebas chuckled, "They're getting the gold. You're fighting whether you like it or not."

"I do not wish to harm you, sir," the orc said politely, and the crowd erupted in laughter.

Jeers to get going already rippled throughout the audience. "Alright!" Sebas yelled and brought his fisticuffs up in a street-boxing stance. "Let's go!"

A deep, booming voice from behind the bar bellowed, "Let's get ready to ruuuuumble!!!!!!"

The orc-man hadn't even put his arms up when Sebas threw his first punch. For a second it looked like the sailor's right fist was going straight and hard into the half-orc's face, and I was afraid I had lost my bet! But just at the last minute, as calmly as if he were just idly shifting his weight, the orc-man side-stepped the long punch, and then brought his own left fist low and hard into Sebas's solar plexus. The crowd shrieked in disbelief at the unmistakable sounds of Sebas's cracking ribs and sternum. Sebas growled wildly and threw a low punch of his own with his left arm, but before he could retract his first arm, the orc-man took a step back and his open hands shot up to clasp his wrist, and the back of his elbow. He then side-stepped to Sebas's right, which had two (2) effects. First, he evaded Sebas's low left hook. Second, levering off the wrist and the elbow, he pulled Sebas's right forearm the wrong way, moving so quickly that he quickly bent the arm backwards, and horrible popping sounds in Sebas's right elbow echoed across the tavern and the sailor screamed like a feral animal.

With a semi-limp right arm, the pirate turned and tucked his left hook back to begin a big uppercut, and as his first was about to reach his opponent's jaw, the orc leaned back just far enough to have it miss, and after the arm sailed past him, suddenly snapped his upper body forward again. His head swung straight into the sailor's, and his thick orcish brow smashed into Sebas's face, whose nose immediately exploded.

I was happy so far, but this was no big deal, I thought at first, this pirate had obviously had lived through as many broken noses as winters. But then he hit the floor just like that, nearly still, but from his groans and bloody coughs obviously alive, but stunned.

The orc-man lifted one foot over him, pointed the heel squarely at Sebas?s exposed neck, and pivoted himself ready to smash his boot into the sailor?s throat.

?Finish him!? someone howled bloodlustily from the thick crowd, and the call was echoed.

?Well, he always was an ass anway,? the next-largest sailor of Sebas?s gang snorted.

The monk?s hands each arced as if he were gaining momentum for a stomp, but then he planted his foot just beside Sebas?s head, and folded his hands as if in prayer. ?I will show him mercy,? the half-orc simply said.

A few scattered jeers bounced around, but then a surprised silence sunk in.

"Well, the mule wins I guess," I was the one who broke the awkward hush that had fallen over the crowd. The fat boozer I?d bet with grumbled but handed me the purse. I didn't need to count it, I knew these things my weight by this point in my career (of course, I did peek in to make sure it was gold I was weighing).

"Alright," the largest remaining sailor surrounding the orc-man and the fallen Sebas grumbled; his friends maintaining their tight circle. "No one attacks our mate and gets away with it!" The circle around the monk tightened and the men's faces grew dark.

The orc-man showed open palms. "I mourn your friend, but I would not wish to reunite any of you with him."

The sailors looked around at each other, a bit nervous. Ho ho. Don't want to make the first move, do you buster? But then they all made a move at once. They descended on the man like a pack of wild hyenas, and became one big swarthy mass of kicking and punching and clawing. How tragic, I thought, just a crude end for such a fine specimen, and one that had netted me 200 easy gold. Just then, at the bottom of the pile, the orc-man crawled out from under someone's leg. I looked at the pile, scratching my head, as they were all still writhing and punching, at something, like a bunch of mindless cannibal savages! The worm turns, I thought.

The orc-man stood and brushed himself off, straightened his tunic, and looked back at the door. "Wait!" I shouted, running up to him. "Yes, hello. Pleased to meet you. Nice bit of work. I am a bard. Tell me about the fight!"

The man appraised me calmly. I got a good, up-close look at his face for the first time. He really did like almost human, but you could tell he had tusks in his cheeks even when his mouth was closed. His nose was broad but not really up-turned like an orc's or pig's, and his skin was tough but not greenish. "Thank you, good minstrel," he said, "But I wish no fame."

"Don't worry, I won't be immodest myself," I said, "Listen, sir, I understand where you're coming from here. You're a monk, I think; and I recognize the brands on the insides of your forearms. You're an Ilmater, a Broken One."

The man nodded calmly but betrayed a hint of surprise. You shouldn't though. As I said, I'm a master of lore. Many monk orders, you see, have a custom where when a student completes his training and will venture into the world, he must lift a burning hot vessel between his forearms and move it; leaving tattoo-like brands that bear whatever symbol was carved onto the vessel. In this case, it was two bound hands, the tabard of Ilmater.

"So," I said, "I understand your humility. It's okay by me. I'm just up here in Luskan to see about this call for adventures up in the Ten-Towns, you see. Epic stuff, this is. Is that what brings you here, sir?"

"Yes," the man said. "You, too, go to defend the North?"

"Well," I chuckled, "I'm not big on fighting, but I may lend a hand. And besides, they'll need someone for morale, and for posterity, eh? Old tales inspire new deeds, they say, and where will the Ten-Towns be without some new deeds, and fast! Now, I understand if you're planning to go it solo up there, especially as a monk, seems you've gotten along pretty well that way, but if you're looking for any company, why, I actually came up from Neverwinter with two adventurers who were looking to join into a party themselves. Tiefling girls, names of Chamilienne Spectrana and Chyrel'Dalis, a little edgy and aloof perhaps, but they'll go far I think."

The monk nodded, seeming to consider this. Suddenly I realized my folly. My own name, and his! Luckily, this was no big faux pas with monastic types. They consider names unimportant, you see.

"Ah yes," I said. "I am Duke." I pointed to the drunken animal at the next table, "And that is my associate Gonzo. Forgive his gruff manner; it's just his style. Do you go by a name, sir?" As you can see, though my manner has been somewhat crude here, I do know how to inquire of a monk.

"I do," he said, "I am Unis; monk of the Broken Ones, as you have observed. From the deserts of the far east."

Very interesting. I did manage to sit him down with Gonzo (who maintained a boorish manner, but Unis seemed not to mind, though of course he himself would not drink), and learn a thing or two about him. He was orphaned to a monastery when his mother died in his birth. She had been taken in by the monks after escaping from a brutish and terrible orc-raid on her family's merchant caravan. It was quite tragic, I assure you. The orcish monk himself was seemingly a product himself of this foul raid. As with most monks, his young life boiled down to his training and teaching. Now he was, I already knew, furiously strong, and much stockier than most martial artists, so he used a sort of custom kickboxing style suited for his physique. And then he had left the monastery, his training complete, to wander the world and do the sorts of things he was getting himself into now. All a nice, compact little tale, but with no lack of pathos.

Just then, without any sort of sane segue from my previous though, the tavern doors swung wide and two men walked in abreast. They were each long-haired, broad and tall men with blades at their sides, but otherwise were as different as can be. Most of the ignorant swine gasped in wonder, but I understood what I was seeing at once, as strange as it was. The man on the right was golden-skinned, golden-haired, and even golden-eyed. Hell, he even had a faint golden halo around him, I could swear, and wore clean but not obsessively polished armor.

The other man, however, had very dark skin. He was a drow, actually, his long hair white as the snow that would be blanketing Icewind Dale right now, and his features elven but not delicate, and he wore no armor, just sparing cloth and animal skins, heck, his chest was even part exposed. A drow in Icewind Dale, eh? Was this the first of many, I wondered? I looked back at the first man and recognized what he was, with those golden eyes, not quite human. An aasimar! He had celestial blood, I was sure of it. The pair were like light and dark anti-mirrors of one another.

?Welly welly well!? guffawed another burly sailor near the door. ?We had ourselves an orc today, now we get a darkie-elf too! Quite a day, eh??

This could get ugly fast, I realized. Well, this was Luskan. I expected nothing different from this town, really. That?s what it was. The only laws were the captains? interests (or the Hosttower?s, on the rare and freakish occasions when it concerned itself with the town, and usually not for the better). But if you could just keep from getting on the wrong side of that wall, and steer away from the worst ruffian elements, there was quite a time or a coin to be had there. A port city to be sure, so the taverns, gambling houses, and brothels were always overflowing, and there was never a shortage of activity here, except during extreme bouts of cold, or invasions, and though both were elements at home here, they were usually manageable.

Where was I? Yes. I expected the drow to go for the man?s throat, but after a quick glare and grimace he looked away and stepped alongside his friend toward the bar. Strange, I thought. I supposed the drow man realized he was slightly outnumbered in this crowded tavern, when with his golden-eyed friend. He got some more jeers, as did his slightly otherworldly friend, but no one seemed to be getting in their way. Perhaps because he was armed and accompanied, or perhaps with the little brush between Unis here and Sebas earlier, the bawdy pirates were suddenly finding a little more tolerance in their hearts, eh? Fear and violence have a power to do that sort of thing, and few really want to admit or condone it. Not even I.

?Hey there!? I shouted at them suddenly, waving my hand in the air like a baboon, just as they were getting to the bar and ordering their drinks. ?Share a tale, eh??

The drow and the aasimar looked at each other and shrugged, but when the bartender put two hefty pints in their hands, the walked back by and nodded politely.

?Sit down!? I gestured, perhaps too enthusiastically. ?Let me get to the point. I?m Duke, this is my associate Gonzo, and this here is a fellow adventure-seeker Unis. I?m a minstrel of sorts and I?m here to get the scoop on that sort of thing, you say, and something said you were the type.?

?Well met, Duke,? the aasimar chuckled warmly, ?And perceptive enough. I am Sir Eromus Prime.?

?Perceptive and wordy,? the drow agreed, ?But what else is a bard? Ah, I am Sir Arsenal Za?rath.?

I grinned unabashedly at the little bard-bash. No problem, I thought. I didn?t mind these things. I was a Professional. ?Knights, eh?? I asked them. ?So you are up here for a quest to Icewind Dale then? Or some business right here in Luskan??

?We plan to go to Targos, yes,? Eromus spoke, smiling. ?And you, Duke??

?Yes, I think so,? I grinned back. ?You are a Lathanderian then?? I?d noticed the emblem on his armor. Eromus nodded with approval at my observation, but oddly, didn?t start lecturing me about his faith. I glanced over at Arsenal, who wasn?t wearing armor. But then I did notice the circle of stars on an exposed part of his chest. A tattoo. Very clever. ?A Mystran, Sir Za?rath?? I asked.

?I now serve the Lady of Magic, yes,? the drow paladin answered.

?Where?s your armor, man?? Gonzo butted in between swigs of his ale. That fool, I thought. He has the grace of a bugbear.

Arsenal looked slightly irritated but answered, ?I practice a little of the Lady?s craft myself, and armor proves somewhat cumbersome.? I nodded emphatically as he spoke, for of course I felt the same way.

Eromus nodded and continued, ?Also, he prefers fighting styles that emphasize mobility.? The golden-eyed knight then nodded to Unis. Not altogether unperceptive himself, I thought.

?And stealth,? Arsenal added.

?Not one of my strong suits,? Eromus chuckled and took a swig. ?Then again??

??You had no sadistic Underdark mistress to escape from,? the drow paladin finished.

?Sounds harrowing!? I exclaimed. ?If it?s not too much trouble, please expound! Ah, next drink?s on me of course!? I added as the drow finished his ale. Quick drinker for an elf, I was beginning to notice, and I flagged a waitress.

?No trouble,? Arsenal agreed calmly, though his eyes said otherwise. ?That sums it up well though. I was an ordinary male slave in Mezoberranzan and a warrior. After being sold to an unusually cruel and demanding mistress, I decided I would bear it no more, I would live free or die.?

?And so far, you have lived,? Eromus smiled and raised his also-now-empty drink in a salute, and the waitress took the gesture as a sigh to refill it, which was just fine with the paladin.

?Quite admirable,? I thought out loud. ?But how??

Arsenal hesitated and Eromus began speaking, ?We actually met before his ?escape?, oddly,? the aasimar chuckled.

?Whoa, you?ve been to the Underdark?? Gonzo blurted out drunkenly. ?Far out, man, far out.?

?I have, but that?s another tale. This was quite the reverse,? Eromus explained, ?Arsenal?s troop was venturing to the surface, and met up with my own paladinic platoon. He and I nearly killed each other when he first met,? he laughed wryly. ?But then we both got captured by some wild elves??

?Wild elves!? I gasped. ?Holy sweet mother of Torm! Elf barbarians? Rare folk now, eh??

?Quite rare,? the aasimar nodded. ?They?re?back to nature, certainly, but I got to know one while in their captivity, and I think barbaric would be a bit overgeneral.? Well well, I thought. Quite an equivocator of a paladin. They are strange folk, yes. Either hard as rocks (and just as swift) or bleedingly compassionate. Ho ho.

?Got to know one, eh?? I asked. ?I?m surprised you could even communicate. Most wild elves don?t know common, eh?? Vicious savages, I thought. Wild beasts of demihumans, from what I heard.

?They spoke elvish, as did I,? the man answered. ?Anyway, this one helped us escape. Of course,? he gestured to Arsenal with his new drink, ?We had to work together.?

?Yes, I see,? I said. Very interesting. ?But you must have gone back to the Underdark again, Arsenal.?

?Yes,? the drow answered, nodding at my deduction. ?Then I was sold from my surface-raider station to?? he shuddered visibly, ?Mistress Verania deVir.?

?It?s funny,? Eromus spoke up while Arsenal sat silent, ?Humility and stoicism are virtues, and yet sometimes, seeking to escape hardship is the better path, as it was for you then.?

?My hardships have been little less since, surfacer friends,? the drow replied with slight acidity.

?Things will only get better,? the aasimar smiled, ?You will find your way.?

?Do not despair, my dark friend,? Unis, who had been sitting quietly but attentively this whole time, spoke up, ?If you seek to do good, your heritage will earn no sling or arrow you cannot bear.?

?I wish they?d toss more magic missiles instead,? Arsenal smiled wryly, ?Drow skin bears those much better!? Eromus and I joined him in laughter, as did Gonzo after a moment more.

?What about yours?? I asked Eromus pointedly, judging this glowing extrovert of a knight would prove amicable to my inquiry. I would not be proved wrong.

?Ah,? Eromus smiled, ?Frost, acid, or lightning would be the lesser evil for my hide.? He segued from the literal question to the implicit by continuing, ?You see, my father Maximus was a paladin himself. My mother, Eroenne, was slain in battle, and my father grieved but continued to adventure, and as he grew in power, began, as some paladins are known to do, to summon devas to his side in battle. And when one proved to be my reincarnated mother??

??Their relationship proved more than professional camaraderie?? I asked.

?Exactly,? Eromus laughed, ?And here I am.?

Yes, I thought, this made sense. I had heard of Maximus Prime. He was up in Icewind Dale in ?81; he and Eroenne LeCam were two of the six heroes credited with some of the more famous hero-antics in the area; resealing a demon-spawning portal in Easthaven, retrieving Kuldahar?s Heartstone Gem, and averting a barbarian invasion around Lonelywood. Rumor was they even cleared out some crazy castle in the middle of the Anauroch desert at about the same time, but that just doesn?t make any sense, now does it?

?Same Maximus Prime who was up north in ?81?? I asked out loud.

?Yep,? Eromus nodded. ?I know, I know, ?daddy?s boy?, ?live up to dad?, all that.?

?Nah,? I said, though that?s where my thoughts were headed. Got to keep my interview comfortable. Though this Eromus guy looked like the type who?d calmly discuss the weather if he were having his toenails ripped out by imps and his genitals devoured by rabid weasels and his cranium sucked dry by mind flayers. Or perhaps the illithids wouldn?t bother with him. Ho ho. ?Sounds to me like you?re striking out on your own. Just geographic coincidence.?

?I suppose,? Eromus shrugged, ?Or maybe it?s just something about the thought of exploring an untamed wild?.? His voice trailed off as his eyes suddenly started focusing across the room, ??elf.?

?What in the hells?? I yelled. ?Untamed wild elves? Savages! Where??

I turned around to follow his gaze. I did see an elf just inside the door. Brunette-haired young lady in a form-fitting leather body suit. ?Wild elf, yes, savage, no,? Eromus smiled.

Arsenal arched a skeptical white eyebrow at his celestial friend. ?Eromus, that?s not her, is it??

?By Lathander?s larynx!? Eromus laughed cheerily, ?It just might be! Pardon me, gentlemen.? With that he sprang up from the table.

I took the rag out of my pocket and wiped my mouth, which was sweaty. Filthy pirates. It stunk in here. The rag was still damp with the purple dragon, and I inhaled the fumes.

Now, purple dragon is a foul thing. The effects from the gas resemble a confusion spell to the casual observer, but for the rube himself, it is a far more depraved thing. You will run around and scream like some sort of violent psychopath, or maybe just crawl into a fetal position and cry like a baby flayed alive. But the worst part is that, at the same time feelings of Panic or Rage or Fear take hold, part of you still sees yourself feeling and behaving in this strange way, but you cannot control it, or your mood. It is not unlike being outside of yourself, laughing at the poor sucker making a fool of himself, and then with great embarrassment realizing that fool is you. Which is strange indeed.

"I need some air," I announced to the rest of table, after Eromus had left it. "Gonzo, entertain them. Unis and Arsenal, I'll be back soon; pleasure to meet you both. Mahalo."

With that I stood up. Slowly and carefully. Control yourself, you fool! Oops. I saw myself fall down on the floor like some drunken clown. Crawl, I told me laying on the floor, crawl you bastard! I looked down to see me pulling myself along on my elbows, and then gradually get up and stoop my way across the room, nearly avoiding several collisions.

I managed to grip the railing of the stairs and snake my arms around it, and hold tight. I looked around and I saw that golden-eyed knight almost run up me, a few paces and people away, and that elf he'd been waving at came from the other direction up to him. They each had faces of shock and joy, and once she was within range he reached out with his arms, held and spun her around, and set her down giggling.

"Avamanyar irithin, Ravina di Iililia," he beamed down at her with his bright eyes.

"Avamanyar irithin iri, Eromus Prime," she smiled up at him through long strands of her amber-brown hair.

"Tiuya lusta avamma Elyren Esselar elrennen?" he lifted his voice as he finished.

"Ninque! Larra hasalla, iri hasalla mi elrennen. Mi aiquen lume re!" she laughed happily.

I blinked and tried to concentrate. What was I seeing? Was I hearing things? He said they spoke elvish! I looked down at myself, lunging up to and grabbing onto the railing. Sometimes purple dragon can also displace you in time as well.

As my knees went weak and I gripped the railing, I saw Eromus and the leather-clad girl run up to each other. He spun her around and set her down giggling.

"Unexpected joyous greetings, Ravina of the Iililia!" he beamed down at the elf.

"Unexpected joyous greetings also, Eromus Prime!" she smiled up through her hair.

"Have you traveled straight from the High Forest?" he asked.

"Not really! Long and far, very far I traveled. But now I find you of all things!" she laughed.

Purple dragon won't usually show you things that just aren't there, but it will change what you do observe. Sometimes you can hear or speak in tongues; sometimes it works against you, sometimes for you. I knew elvish, of course, I was well traveled. This wild elf had an odd dialect, but no matter. The purple dragon was doing the work now anyway.

"And I you! Are you here about the call further North?" Eromus asked.

Ravina looked confused. "I don't know what you mean? I have simply wandered. I...loved my home...but I grew weary...and after what they did to you and your friends...I am so sorry...my people are not evil, but...they defend and preserve their homeland fiercely."

Eromus nodded with understanding, "As would I, but hopefully there was room for your cousins too. When last I left there seemed to be an unspoken truce between them."

"An uneasy ceasefire with the town-makers, yes," the wild elf answered, "But we'll see how long it lasts."

"You're going back there soon?" Eromus's brow furrowed slightly.

"I...don't really know," Ravina's deep brown eyes looked down.

"I'm here about a call for adventurers up in Icewind Dale," Eromus began, "Goblinoid and orcish raiders..."

"Orcs?" Ravina's eyebrows slanted and the corner of her mouth began to quiver. "They used to roam near our tribe...they burn, ravage, destroy...they unbalance..." The quiver formed a sneer.

"I'm sorry, Ravina," Eromus said gently, and I noticed his hands lifted from his sides for a second, towars hers, but then they hesitated and came down again. "It threatens to be so in the North. They aren't all bad though, in fact, I was just talking to....oh, and did I mention that one of the drow I was captured with is...."

They trailed off as he trailed off. I would have reflected that it was probably towards our table, but at the moment I as preoccupied with my own unbalance. My knees gave out and I hung like some macabre puppet from the side of the railing, yelping like a lynched hound dog, but then my balance returned happily. For a moment I thought it was the drug, but then I felt two hands deftly holding my sides.

"Why thank you, my good man," I said, and tried to turn to see my benefactor.

"I am no man, jaluk," a voice hissed, and suddenly I felt one hand gripping me around the neck and another the waist. I went limp with the Fear and was barely aware of myself being dragged up the stairs by a cloaked figure, with a hood out of the sides of which flowed long silky white hair.

Just then, without any sort of sane segue from my previous though, the tavern doors swung wide and two men walked in abreast. They were each long-haired, broad and tall men with blades at their sides, but otherwise were as different as can be. Most of the ignorant swine gasped in wonder, but I understood what I was seeing at once, as strange as it was. The man on the right was golden-skinned, golden-haired, and even golden-eyed. Hell, he even had a faint golden halo around him, I could swear, and wore clean but not obsessively polished armor.
The other man, however, had very dark skin. He was a drow, actually, his long hair white as the snow that would be blanketing Icewind Dale right now, and his features elven but not delicate, and he wore no armor, just sparing cloth and animal skins, heck, his chest was even part exposed. A drow in Icewind Dale, eh? Was this the first of many, I wondered? I looked back at the first man and recognized what he was, with those golden eyes, not quite human. An aasimar! He had celestial blood, I was sure of it. The pair were like light and dark anti-mirrors of one another.

?Welly welly well!? guffawed another burly sailor near the door. ?We had ourselves an orc today, now we get a darkie-elf too! Quite a day, eh??

This could get ugly fast, I realized. Well, this was Luskan. I expected nothing different from this town, really. That?s what it was. The only laws were the captains? interests (or the Hosttower?s, on the rare and freakish occasions when it concerned itself with the town, and usually not for the better). But if you could just keep from getting on the wrong side of that wall, and steer away from the worst ruffian elements, there was quite a time or a coin to be had there. A port city to be sure, so the taverns, gambling houses, and brothels were always overflowing, and there was never a shortage of activity here, except during extreme bouts of cold, or invasions, and though both were elements at home here, they were usually manageable.

Where was I? Yes. I expected the drow to go for the man?s throat, but after a quick glare and grimace he looked away and stepped alongside his friend toward the bar. Strange, I thought. I supposed the drow man realized he was slightly outnumbered in this crowded tavern, when with his golden-eyed friend. He got some more jeers, as did his slightly otherworldly friend, but no one seemed to be getting in their way. Perhaps because he was armed and accompanied, or perhaps with the little brush between Unis here and Sebas earlier, the bawdy pirates were suddenly finding a little more tolerance in their hearts, eh? Fear and violence have a power to do that sort of thing, and few really want to admit or condone it. Not even I.

?Hey there!? I shouted at them suddenly, waving my hand in the air like a baboon, just as they were getting to the bar and ordering their drinks. ?Share a tale, eh??

The drow and the aasimar looked at each other and shrugged, but when the bartender put to heft pints in their hands, the walked back by and nodded politely.

?Sit down!? I gestured, perhaps too enthusiastically. ?Let me get to the point. I?m Duke, this is my associate Gonzo, and this here is a fellow adventure-seeker Unis. I?m a minstrel of sorts and I?m here to get the scoop on that sort of thing, you say, and something said you were the type.?

?Well met, Duke,? the aasimar chuckled warmly, ?And perceptive enough. I am Sir Eromus Prime.?

?Perceptive and wordy,? the drow agreed, ?But what else is a bard? Ah, I am Sir Arsenal Za?rath.?

I grinned unabashedly at the little bard-bash. No problem, I thought. I didn?t mind these things. I was a Professional. ?Knights, eh?? I asked them. ?So you are up here for a quest to Icewind Dale then? Or some business right here in Luskan??

?We plan to go to Targos, yes,? Eromus spoke, smiling. ?And you, Duke??

?Yes, I think so,? I grinned back. ?You are a Lathanderian then?? I?d noticed the emblem on his armor. Eromus nodded with approval at my observation, but oddly, didn?t start lecturing me about his faith. I glanced over at Arsenal, who wasn?t wearing armor. But then I did notice the circle of stars on an exposed part of his chest. A tattoo. Very clever. ?A Mystran, Sir Za?rath?? I asked.

?I now serve the Lady of Magic, yes,? the drow paladin answered.

?Where?s your armor, man?? Gonzo butted in between swigs of his ale. That fool, I thought. He has the grace of a bugbear.

Arsenal looked slightly irritated but answered, ?I practice a little of the Lady?s craft myself, and armor proves somewhat cumbersome.? I nodded emphatically as he spoke, for of course I felt the same way.

Eromus nodded and continued, ?Also, he prefers fighting styles that emphasize mobility.? The golden-eyed knight then nodded to Unis. Not altogether unperceptive himself, I thought.

?And stealth,? Arsenal added.

?Not one of my strong suits,? Eromus chuckled and took a swig. ?Then again??

??You had no sadistic Underdark mistress to escape from,? the drow paladin finished.

?Sounds harrowing!? I exclaimed. ?If it?s not too much trouble, please expound! Ah, next drink?s on me of course!? I added as the drow finished his ale. Quick drinker for an elf, I was beginning to notice, and I flagged a waitress.

?No trouble,? Arsenal agreed calmly, though his eyes said otherwise. ?That sums it up well though. I was an ordinary male slave in Mezoberranzan and a warrior. After being sold to an unusually cruel and demanding mistress, I decided I would bear it no more, I would live free or die.?

?And so far, you have lived,? Eromus smiled and raised his also-now-empty drink in a salute, and the waitress took the gesture as a sigh to refill it, which was just fine with the paladin.

?Quite admirable,? I thought out loud. ?But how??

Arsenal hesitated and Eromus began speaking, ?We actually met before his ?escape?, oddly,? the aasimar chuckled.

?Whoa, you?ve been to the Underdark?? Gonzo blurted out drunkenly. ?Far out, man, far out.?

?I have, but that?s another tale. This was quite the reverse,? Eromus explained, ?Arsenal?s troop was venturing to the surface, and met up with my own paladinic platoon. He and I nearly killed each other when he first met,? he laughed wryly. ?Both got captured by some wild elves??

?Wild elves!? I gasped. ?Holy sweet mother of Torm! Elf barbarians? Rare folk now, eh??

?Quite rare,? the aasimar nodded. ?They?re?back to nature, certainly, but I got to know one while in their captivity, and I think barbaric would be a bit overgeneral.? Well well, I thought. Quite an equivocator of a paladin. They are strange folk, yes. Either hard as rocks (and just as swift) or bleedingly compassionate. Ho ho.

?Got to know one, eh?? I asked. ?I?m surprised you could even communicate. Most wild elves don?t know common, eh?? Vicious savages, I thought. Wild beasts of demihumans, from what I heard.

?They spoke elvish, as did I,? the man answered. ?Anyway, this one helped us escape. Of course,? he gestured to Arsenal with his new drink, ?We had to work together.?

?Yes, I see,? I said. Very interesting. ?But you must have gone back to the Underdark again, Arsenal.?

?Yes,? the drow answered, nodding at my deduction. ?Then I was sold from my surface-raider station to?? he shuddered visibly, ?Mistress Verania deVir.?

?It?s funny,? Eromus spoke up while Arsenal sat silent, ?Humility and stoicism are virtues, and yet sometimes, seeking to escape hardship is the better path, as it was for you then.?

?My hardships have been little less since, surfacer friends,? the drow replied with slight acidity.

?Things will only get better,? the aasimar smiled, ?You will find your way.?

?Do not despair, my dark friend,? Unis, who had been sitting quietly but attentively this whole time, spoke up, ?If you seek to do good, your heritage will earn no sling or arrow you cannot bear.?

?I wish they?d toss more magic missiles instead,? Arsenal smiled wryly, ?Drow skin bears those much better!? Eromus and I joined him in laughter, as did Gonzo after a moment more.

?What about yours?? I asked Eromus pointedly, judging this glowing extrovert of a knight would prove amicable to my inquiry. I would not be proved wrong.

?Ah,? Eromus smiled, ?Frost, acid, or lightning would be the lesser evil for my hide.? He segued from the literal question to the implicit by continuing, ?You see, my father Maximus was a paladin himself. My mother, Eroenne, was slain in battle, and my father grieved but continued to adventure, and as he grew in power, began, as some paladins are known to do, to summon devas to his side in battle. And when one proved to be my reincarnated mother??

??Their relationship proved more than professional camaraderie?? I asked.

?Exactly,? Eromus laughed, ?And here I am.?

Yes, I thought, this made sense. I had heard of Maximus Prime. He was up in Icewind Dale in ?81; he and Eroenne LeCam were two of the six heroes credited with some of the more famous hero-antics in the area; resealing a demon-spawning portal in Easthaven, retrieving Kuldahar?s Heartstone Gem, and averting a barbarian invasion around Lonelywood. Rumor was they even cleared out some crazy castle in the middle of the Anauroch desert at about the same time, but that just doesn?t make any sense, now does it?

?Same Maximus Prime who was up north in ?81?? I asked out loud.

?Yep,? Eromus nodded. ?I know, I know, ?daddy?s boy?, ?live up to dad?, all that.?

?Nah,? I said, though that?s where my thoughts were headed. Got to keep my interview comfortable. Though this Eromus guy looked like the type who?d calmly discuss the weather if he were having his toenails ripped out by imps and his genitals devoured by rabid weasels and his cranium sucked dry by mind flayers. Or perhaps the illithids wouldn?t bother with this paladin. Ho ho. ?Sounds to me like you?re striking out on your own. Just geographic coincidence.?

?I suppose,? Eromus shrugged, ?Or maybe it?s just something about the thought of exploring an untamed wild?.? His voice trailed off as his eyes suddenly started focusing across the room, ??elf.?

?What in the hells?? I yelled. ?Untamed wild elves? Savages! Where??

I turned around to follow his gaze. I did see an elf just inside the door. Brunette-haired young lady in a form-fitting leather body suit. ?Wild elf, yes, savage, no,? Eromus smiled.

Arsenal arched a skeptical white eyebrow at his celestial friend. ?Eromus, that?s not her, is it??

?By Lathander?s larynx!? Eromus laughed cheerily, ?It just might be! Pardon me, gentlemen.? With that he sprang up from the table.

I took the rag out of my pocket and wiped my mouth, which was sweaty. Filthy pirates. It stunk in here. The rag was still damp with the purple dragon, and I inhaled the fumes.

Now, purple dragon is a foul thing. The effects from the gas resemble a confusion spell to the casual observer, but for the rube himself, it is a far more depraved thing. You will run around and scream like some sort of violent psychopath, or maybe just crawl into a fetal position and cry like a baby flayed alive. But the worst part is that, at the same time feelings of Panic or Rage or Fear take hold, part of you still sees yourself feeling and behaving in this strange way, but you cannot control it, or your mood. It is not unlike being outside of yourself, laughing at the poor sucker making a fool of himself, and then with great embarrassment realizing that fool is you. Which is strange indeed.

"I need some air," I announced to the rest of table, after Eromus had left it. "Gonzo, entertain them. Unis and Arsenal, I'll be back soon; pleasure to meet you both. Mahalo."

With that I stood up. Slowly and carefully. Control yourself, you fool! Oops. I saw myself fall down on the floor like some drunken clown. Crawl, I told me laying on the floor, crawl you bastard! I looked down to see me pulling myself along on my elbows, and then gradually get up and stoop my way across the room, nearly avoiding several collisions.

I managed to grip the railing of the stairs and snake my arms around it, and hold tight. I looked around and I saw that golden-eyed knight almost run up me, a few paces and people away, and that elf he'd been waving at came from the other direction up to him. They each had faces of shock and joy, and once she was within range he reached out with his arms, held and spun her around, and set her down giggling.

"Avamanyar irithin, Ravina di Iililia," he beamed down at her with his bright eyes.

"Avamanyar irithin iri, Eromus Prime," she smiled up at him through long strands of her amber-brown hair.

"Tiuya lusta avamma Elyren Esselar elrennen?" he lifted his voice as he finished.

"Ninque! Larra hasalla, iri hasalla mi elrennen. Mi aiquen lume re!" she laughed happily.

I blinked and tried to concentrate. What was I seeing? Was I hearing things? He said they spoke elvish! I looked down at myself, lunging up to and grabbing onto the railing. Sometimes purple dragon can also displace you in time as well.

As my knees went weak and I gripped the railing, I saw Eromus and the leather-clad girl run up to each other. He spun her around and set her down giggling.

"Unexpected joyous greetings, Ravina of the Iililia!" he beamed down at the elf.

"Unexpected joyous greetings also, Eromus Prime!" she smiled up through her hair.

"Have you traveled straight from the High Forest?" he asked.

"Not really! Long and far, very far I traveled. But now I find you of all things!" she laughed.

Purple dragon won't usually show you things that just aren't there, but it will change what you do observe. Sometimes you can hear or speak in tongues; sometimes it works against you, sometimes for you. I knew elvish, of course, I was well traveled. This wild elf had an odd dialect, but no matter. The purple dragon was doing the work now anyway.

"And I you! Are you here about the call further North?" Eromus asked.

Ravina looked confused. "I don't know what you mean? I have simply wandered. I...loved my home...but I grew weary...and after what they did to you and your friends...I am so sorry...my people are not evil, but...they defend and preserve their homeland fiercely."

Eromus nodded with understanding, "As would I, but hopefully there was room for your cousins too. When last I left there seemed to be an unspoken truce between them."

"An uneasy ceasefire with the town-makers, yes," the wild elf answered, "But we'll see how long it lasts."

"You're going back there soon?" Eromus's brow furrowed slightly.

"I...don't really know," Ravina's deep brown eyes looked down.

"I'm here about a call for adventurers up in Icewind Dale" Eromus began, "Goblinoid and orcish raiders..."

"Orcs?" Ravina's eyebrows slanted and the corner of her mouth began to quiver. "They used to roam near our tribe...they burn, ravage, destroy...they unbalance..." The quiver formed a sneer.

"I'm sorry, Ravina," Eromus said gently, and I noticed his hands lifted from his sides for a second, but then he brought them down again. "It threatens to be so in the North. They aren't all bad though, in fact, I was just talking to....oh, and did I mention that one of the drow I was captured with is...."

They trailed off as he trailed off. I would have reflected that it was probably towards our table, but at the moment I as preoccupied with my own unbalance. My knees gave out and I hung like some macabre puppet from the side of the railing, yelping like a lynched hound dog, but then my balance returned happily. For a moment I thought it was the drug, but then I felt two hands deftly holding my sides.

"Why thank you, my good man," I said, and tried to turn to see my benefactor.

"I am no man, jaluk," a voice hissed, and suddenly I felt one hand gripping me around the neck and another the waist. I went limp with the Fear and was barely aware of myself being dragged up the stairs by a cloaked figure, with a hood out of the sides of which flowed long silky white hair.

"Holy Tyr-drops! Who are you, you bastard!" I screamed as I was dragged up the stairs of the Flamingo Inn and pushed into a dark alcove on the second floor, and looked up into the faceless hood before me, in which I could see only two bright burning eyes.

"Are you deaf, rivvel imbecil?" the voice snarled, louder than before. "Insinuate my manhood one more time, and I shall relieve you of your own." I saw a flash from the bottom corner of my eye and felt a dirk touch the buckle of my belt.

"Calm down, woman! You need a drink! Or a joint!" I help up fine examples of each in my hands, and the shadowy figure knocked them both from my grasp with the butt of her dagger before returning it to my nether regions.

"That's more like it,? she laughed as my comforts flew away, ?Though you remain pathetic even for a surfacer male."

"Duke's the name," I grinned at the face of the woman I couldn't see. "Your diction leaves little to the imagination regarding your race and gender, drow jalil, but your name all the lore in the world won't tell me...or would it?"

The woman threw back her hood with a jerk of the neck, and her charcoal elven face smiled with cynical approval and amusement. I was playing my cards right. Drow females, putting themselves at the top of the demographic pyramid even more than most groups do, love to be acknowledged for what they are, even when it might moderately be against some covert interest. The hook about lore was designed to get her bragging about her name or some deed.

She tilted her head back, her long silky hair flying about, and cackled, "I am Verania deVir, of noble and enchanted blood, awed and favored thespian of the Spider Queen, adored and feared by all!"

Ho ho.

She paused midcackle, then immediately clamped her jaw shut and shot her face close to mine, growling, "But all you need know of that is that you should fear me."

"I hear I'm not the only one who does, jabbress deVir," I grinned wrly.

"Oh really," Verania flashed a cruel smile. "That is just what I wanted to talk to you about, my new rothe."

"Actually I'd prefer ssinsuurul-jaluk, I'm a performer myself you know," I laughed uneasily.

"Presume to correct me again, rothe, and I shall drill holes in your toes and hang you by your own harpstrings," she growled with rage. "Go singing of this, ssinsuurul-jaluk, and I shall drill holes in the rest of your body and use the strings to make you dance like a puppet before strangling you with them. For that is what you will be now, my puppet, my little pet, my inlul phindar."

"I've relatively little experience with that medium," I began, but when she glared daggers at me (and pressed her actual stiletto against my breeches), I hastily added, "...But I'm a quick learner, yes sir."

"As you were saying about the other..." she smiled. "And don't play stupid, phindar, lest I grant your wish via a lobotomy with my fingernails."

I had indeed put it together, which was the state I wished my brains to remain in. "You must have seen him, the drow male I was sitting with, that's why you grabbed me," I babbled, "He's Arsenal Za'rath, he gave your name as the mistress he fled from. I assume that's what you wanted to know, jalil."

"Thank you, jaluk," Verania grinned smugly. "It is indeed. And he is a paladin now?"

"Yes, of Mystra, or so he said."

"That pale elg'caress goddess-witch," Vernia fumed, "Her time to be caught in my Queen's web is nigh."

"So, eh," I grinned sheepishly, "Guess you don't need me now. He's all yours."

"Not so fast," her illuminated eyes narrowed and I gulped loudly. "I see the rothe jaluk has managed to surround himself with fellow warriors. I command your help, my phindar, as a fellow thespian you will be my supporting actor. Let me explain. I have just escaped from the Underdark myself, where I have been oh-so persecuted like dear Arsenal, and when you introduce us, I will be overjoyed to see a familiar face. He will mistrust his former mistress, but when his little paladin heart hears my tale of woe, he will be foolish and trusting. Or so I hope for your sake," she glared down at me.

Sweat covered my face. "I'm sure that will work," I stated hollowly.

"Help me see that it does, my unlil phindar, my little beast," she grinned, and caressed the top of my head with her sharp fingernails.

"No trouble," I laughed hoarsely, "I find being a beast rids the pain of being a man." With that I reached for the purple-dragon-soaked rag in my pocket, but before I could get it to my face and inhale, she knocked it away from me.

I looked demurely towards it, but she gripped my face and pulled it up to meet her harsh gaze, squeezing my cheeks between her fingers and touching her sharp nails to the skin. "You won't need that now. I will make you the beast," she cackled.

**************

I went clambering drunkenly down the stairs of the Flamingo Inn, sprawling on my face at the bottom. ?Gonzo!? I shouted up helplessly into the crowd. ?Where are you, you good for nothing hound??

I gripped the bottom of the stair railing and pulled myself to my feet, then ambled over through the crowd, hoping they wouldn?t transform into lizardmen again. I came to the table where I had left Gonzo, Unis, and Arsenal, who were still sitting there. Eromus, whom I had last seen near the stairwell with that elven girl Ravina, was now back at the table, and she sat next to him. She was explaining some sort of story about her primitive but rigid upbringing and how after helping free Eromus and Arsenal she decided to leave her tribe. Unfortunately, I had other concerns, so I jotted a mental note to ask her more later (and those aodamn wyverns better not fly into my brain again and thieve it!).

?BURP Hey!? I shouted to the group. Ravina immediately went quiet and looked up at me curiously. Eromus did likewise with a hint of irritation, as did Arsenal. Unis was unreadable as usual, and Gonzo simply kept drinking.

?Upstairs!? I continued, pointing to the stairs. ?There?s a girl getting?attacked by vicious pirates! They are base dogs!?

Eromus and Unis were up from the table before I?d finished the word ?attacked,? Arsenal and Ravina an instant later, and Gonzo let out an extremely loud burp but stood more or less straight up once he?d noticed the others had.

?Lead us! Quickly!? Eromus demanded while Arsenal began pushing through the dense crowd toward the stairwell. I followed the drow closely, and the rest came behind me with all possible hast in the crowd.

When we reached the stairs, I bounded past Arsenal and raced up them with uncanny speed with the five others in tow. I darted down a hallway on the right and yelled, ?Third on the right!?, pointing to a door. It was closed, but screams of one woman and boorish guffaws of several pirates could be heard from within.

No sooner had I extended my index finger toward the door than Unis flew through the air beside me in a jump kick position, and as his boot crashed into the door it flew wide open. Arsenal and Eromus ran up beside him and they charged in rapid single file through the door, followed by Ravina, myself, and a stumbling Gonzo.

In the room, several men had surrounded a crouching woman, whose clothes were tight and tattered, revealing dark skin, but a hood still covered her head. They men were laughing like cruel hyenas and grabbing at her ferociously, tearing off bits of clothes and groping her flesh, and she screamed helplessly.

Of course, you and I know this was not what it appeared.

You know about how before I come down the stairs just now, what I had seen was an irate drow woman, Verania deVir, threatening to emasculate and skewer me if I did not play along. With what, you ask?

?Listen carefully, jaluk. Arsenal is mine. Pity I didn?t find him before he managed to surround himself with surface-scum warriors. Even I could not take them all forcibly, and I?d rather get my rothe alive anyway, so a little dramatic improvisation to ingrain me in this burgeoning little war-party of yours will be in order. And if Arsenal now fancies himself a paladin and travels with another high & mighty shiny knighty, what better ruse than the quaint little surfacer fable of the ?damsel in distress???

?There are a group of pirates gambling in the room down that hall, the third on the right. I will barge into the room alone, and doubtless they will immediate try to rape me, with little need for provocative theatrics on my part. You will run back down stairs, my good inlul phindar, and tell your hero friends that some girl is getting attacked by thugs upstairs. Being that my rothe Arsenal is now of all things a paladin like his pale-faced friend, their course of action will be mind-numbingly predictable. Lead them, and your boozing friend and that simpleton half-orc if they?ll come, up to my room. Our little knights in shining armor will then, of course, save oh-so-helpless me from the villainous pirates. And then, perceiving me as a victim, the paladins and that monk will, even once Arsenal recognizes me, spare and care for a woman that any reasonable person would in this situation slay.?

?I will wish very much to disembowel these pathetic, insipid sailors the moment I lay eyes upon them, but must leave that to your friends. You will have five minutes until I grow bored of playing defensive-to-helpess and gut the sea-swine myself, in which case you will be next. Now, go.?

Unis made a running dash into the room, leaping over the crouched form of Verania. He sailed over her and between two thugs standing to either side, extending his thick right leg out, and it smashed like a battering ram into the face of a third pirate behind her. His face exploded in blood and teeth and he went careening into a wall, and no sooner had the half-orc monk landed than he began pummeling the pirate with rapid, forceful punches.

The two ruffians that Unis had sailed past turned briefly to accost him, but spun back the other way as Eromus and Arsenal dashed up. The one on the left managed to draw his cutlass just in time to parry an overhead longsword swing by Eromus, but at the moment their blades clanged, the aasimar gave a thundering shout and his foe suddenly burst into flames. Eromus drew back and swung across his waist, and the burning man hadn?t a hope of intercepting the blow that cut him clean in half.

The pirate on the right had crossed scimitars with Arsenal, who drew out a second curved blade and stabbed at his foe?s belly, but the thug had a dagger ready in the other hand and barely deflected the blow. The man backed away and swung his weapons about menacingly with a bloodthirstly scream, but Arsenal calmly backed up himself, began chanting in an odd tongue, then pressed the hilts of his weapons together and sent a chromatic orb flying at his opponent. The man barely managed to sidestep it, but before he could come forward again, an arrow appeared in his chest and he fell to the floor groaning. My surprise became understanding when I noticed Ravina?s bowstring quivering out of the corner of my eye.

?Far out, man, far out,? Gonzo nodded approvingly as the ranger, the monk, and the two paladins looked over the fallen ruffians and, satisfied they would not rise again, turned their attention to the huddled woman that I knew to be Verania deVir.

?It?s okay, miss,? Eromus spoke softly to the woman, who was crying and shivering as if in great fear. ?If you need a hand getting back on your feet, let us know,? he literally reached a hand out to her.

She slowly stood, and then fell against Eromus?s chest in a clingy embrace. ?Oh, thank you, thank you! My heroes! They were going to..to?.?

As the drow woman clung to the golden-eyed man, my own eyes glanced sideways, and I noticed Ravina?s expression was rather nonplussed in spite of our recent victory.

?You?ll be fine now,? Eromus whispered kindly as he made gentle attempts to pry himself off of the woman. ?Do you need new clothes? Would you like to be escorted somewhere??

?I?I?ve got nowhere to go?? she bawled dramatically into Eromus?s breastplate, ?Everywhere I go, they try to ravage or murder me!?

Now, due to the sparse nature of what remained, or rather didn?t, of Verania?s cloak (her hood she had kept perfectly intact), her ebony skin showed in a number of (relatively revealing) places, and the fact that she was a drow wasn?t lost on anyone. Especially not Arsenal. Ravina still looked slightly cross, Unis looked impassive but vaguely content at our deed, and Gonzo was slurping a brew kindly left by one of the now-dead pirates, but Arsenal?s white eyebrows were furrowed and his thin lips were pulled into a tight, pensive frown.

?What is your name, sister?? Arsenal demanded, his interrogative tone sharply contrasting with his fair fellow paladin.

?V-V-Verania?? she sniffed, and turned towards the drow paladin, ?accidentally? letting her hood slip off her head with an imperceptible shoulder twist. ?Arsenal!? she cried with joy before he could gasp in shock, and she flung herself at him and wrapped her arms around his half-bare chest, pinning to his side the arms that had never resheathed their scimitars.

?Off of me, sadistic witch!? Arsenal shrieked in anger and terror, but had difficulty trying to wriggle out of her embrace.

?Verania deVir?? Eromus arched a blonde eyebrow. ?Good to meet you. I?m pleasantly surprised by your behavior, but let my friend go, please.?

Verania let Arsenal wriggle his way out and she dropped to her knees, looking back at Eromus with a look of great fear. ?Don?t hurt me, please!? she squealed.

?Aw, c?mon,? the fair paladin sighed, ?I wasn?t going to, it?s just?? he glanced up at Arsenal then back to her, ?You?re not hunting Arsenal, are you?? he glared down with a look that was as suspicious as Arsenal?s, if less harsh.

Verania?s face became one of great confusion, then she said, ?N-no! I?m j-..oh, I see. Yes,? she sighed and looked up at Eromus as if with shame, ?He was my rothe down below ? before I got driven from my home and forced to this blinding place. I?m just so happy to see a familiar face again!? She looked up at the drow male innocently, ?Well, when he escaped I guess I realized I didn?t treat him very well.?

?Duh!? Arsenal cried with great exasperation. He pointed his scimitar at Verania?s cowering form, but before it touched her flesh, a longsword swung out and intercepted it. Arsenal immediately recognized it and glared up at Eromus. ?This is my business, human.?

The aasimar looked back softly. ?Underdark justice has no place here,? he spoke. ?I understand what you went through, but she?s harmless enough now.?

?You have no idea what I went through, Maximus junior!? Arsenal growled at his friend. ?She is not what she seems!? he redirected his growl to Verania, and applied more pressure to Eromus?s sword in her direction.

?Good Arsenal, let?s step outside a second,? Eromus stared the drow down impassively. ?Duke, come with us,? he said turning to me. ?Unis, Ravina, Gonzo, keep miss deVir company in here.? He smiled at Ravina, nodded to Unis, and looked curiously at Gonzo.

With that he withdrew and sheathed his longsword, looking pointedly at Arsenal as he put away his scimitars, and then I followed them back out the door.

?This is ridiculous!? Arsenal sighed as he and Eromus walked down the hall. I followed after closing the door. ?She?s putting on an act. Eromus, she?s a performer.?

?From what you?ve said, I can?t imagine she has any experience with helpless-type characters,? Eromus half-smiled.

Arsenal rolled his eyes. ?Well, no, but she?s good at this. Who knows what she set up??

Eromus turned to me. ?That?s why I brought you out here, Duke. You saw her before you came running down to alert us??

I maintained my calm. What to do? From here, with all these other ?allies?, it seemed like Verania had no power to hurt me. If I spilled the beans, and Arsenal slew her, I had nothing to fear, right? Right. On the other hand, if Eromus convinced him to let her go, I would be living in Fear, and rightfully so. She had all the markings of your archetypical ultravengeful drow female, and you do not want to cross a person like that, if it would not rationally gain them anyway to kill you for it afterwards, no sir. There was a certain irony here. The paladinic compassion I feared Eromus might convince Arsenal to show, if they knew of Verania?s intent, in a situation where almost anyone in their right mind would kill such a clear and present threat to themselves, might be good, but here it just might be a net evil, for that is what I was siding with out of my own mortal fear. Makes that romanticized ever-merciful Lathanderian creed look a bit quaint, doesn?t it? That sort of altruism, and the altruism that I had the chance to show by ratting on miss deVir, is something only men & their kindred could have come up with. Simple self-preservation was the only creed of every other beast.

?Actually, I didn?t even see her. I just walked upstairs to clear my head, and I heard her terrified screams through the door. So I came down.? That is what I said. I chose the past of the beast.

Eromus nodded, content. ?Thanks Duke.? Boy, did I feel like a scoundrel. But I guess it beats being a rube.

?Even so,? Arsenal spoke up, ?That says nothing good about her. Being a victim in one situation does not make her less nefarious in another. That, I have noticed, is a common misconception here on the surface.? He started pointedly at the other paladin.

?It?s true,? Eromus shrugged. ?No offense, Arsenal, but would she really come all this way, to the dangerous surface world, picking up our faint trail, just to hunt you? Were you that, eh, coveted by her??

?Possibly,? Arsenal smirked with a trace of pride. ?You don?t understand drow culture, Eromus. The humiliation of letting me escape. With her ex-noble position and a sister who also fled to the surface, she was already in a precarious place back home, and this would be socially disastrous for her, and her business. And she herself is irrationally vengeful. Trust me.?

Eromus responded, ?Perhaps she?s changed. If she was driven from the Underdark, and now a pariah in both worlds, her tyrannical matronly attitudes would have been forced to change. You have, Arsenal.?

The drow glared, ?Yes, and so I can divine that she has not, fellow paladin. You must have sensed it, Eromus. She is what she always was ? pure evil.?

?It?s not that simple, my friend,? Eromus stated firmly. ?Many who are evil can yet be harmless and an ally, perhaps even redeemable, many who are not can yet prove traitorous. Our divination powers are only a guide.?

?My memories divine far more than that,? Arsenal retorted, ?Shall I at last describe for you in detail what she has done??

Eromus gritted his teeth and through them spoke, ?That?s quite alright, my friend. But people can change. My father came across Verania?s own sister Viconia in Waterdeep. She wasn?t all bad, and if my father had had more time in her company I?m sure??

Arsenal groaned impatiently. ?It?s always daddy this, daddy that with you! You told me that story, and how it ends ? she ran off as evil as ever!?

Eromus sighed. ?That?s not true. She was beginning to change. People can change, Arsenal. You of all people should know this!?

?I was never what she is,? Arsenal scowled at the aasimar, ?And do not insinuate it again!?

?I did not before,? Eromus shrugged, ?But anyone can change. She deserves a chance. And without our help, I doubt she will live long up here.?

?Good riddance if so,? Arsenal spat, ?But she?s gotten all the way to Luskan just fine.?

?Barring that she nearly got raped and killed just now,? Eromus retorted, ?And who knows what horrors have already been visited upon her? It seems to me that she is now in much the same position she once put you in; and that sort of ?poetic justice,? though I would not wish it upon ever her or think it true justice, is a powerful agent of change. She is now in your boots. And on that note, why not give her a chance, Arsenal? She could now harm you even if she wished, surrounded by myself and our other new friends ? Unis and Ravina will be our steadfast allies in this, I am sure, will you, Duke, and will Gonzo??

I gulped. ?Of course! Though I wouldn?t wish to cross her directly. She seemed helpless enough, but?well, what I know of drow females chimes with Arsenal?s experiences, I?m afraid.? I shuddered. Of course, what I had said was not entirely untrue.

Arsenal nodded at my acknowledgement, but then frowned at Eromus. ?Her treachery runs deep, and I do not trust her, but fine, a chance she will have, if she wishes. But my scimitar will greet her neck at the first sign of ill intent.?

?Better that we simply let her go if we can,? Eromus said as he nodded, ?But if your immediate defense comes to that, so be it.? With that he extended his gauntleted right hand, and Arsenal shook it.

**********

The paladins and I marched back into the room. Verania was sitting on the bed next to Unis, gripping half-orc's muscular arm and shivering while he held a blanket over her caringly. Ravina stood before the bed, her arms folded skeptically, staring down at the drow woman. Gonzo was lying on the floor, half-passed out and reeking of booze.

That was when I noticed the wafts of black lotus. I figured Gonzo had puffed up, but didn?t see anything on him. Then I heard two familiar voices from the corner of the room, and spun towards them. The figures owning the voices looked familiar as well. Tiefling girls, with orange and black hair.

?Aloha, Chyrel and Chami!? I said. "This is turning into quite a party."

When I came to, everything was wrong. The air smelled salty, and everything was moving, like some sort of bad carnival ride from the 999th layer of the Abyss. Foul, yes, foul indeed.

I opened my eyes. Yes, that was the sky in front of me. Definitely the sky. It was overcast, but I was sure of it.

“What’s going on here!” I yelled boorishly, with no heed for anything. Why weren’t my arms moving. “I demand some answers! Gonzo, you’re an aodamn goodfornothing animal! What the hells is going on here!”

“Hey, man, chill out,” Gonzo’s voice oozed over my mind. “Everything’s cool."

"Everything's cool!? Are you insane!? I can't move!?"

"Oh yeah, man, we had to tie you down last night. You were really f-in raving. You took too much, man, you took too much."

"Purple dragon?"

"No, orc-adrenaline. You took all three vials man. I said three f-in drops!"

"Well untie me, you beast!"

Then Gonzo's swarthy face, with those copper cheeks, that goofy pearly grin, manic dark eyes and long curly black hair filled the sky I was looking at. I heard the sounds of a dagger cutting cords.

"Holy Mother of Torm!" I shouted, springing up and moving freely, and taking note of my surroundings. I was on the deck of a ship, that much I was certain of. It must be early morning. It was quite cold. I sniffed the cool, salty air, and things began to come back to me.

The paladins and I marched back into the room. Verania was sitting on the bed, hugging herself and shivering while Unis held a blanket around her. (I would guess this had been her idea, not his). Ravina stood before the bed, her arms folded skeptically, staring down at the drow woman. Gonzo was lying on the floor, half-passed out and reeking of booze.

That was when I noticed the wafts of black lotus. I figured Gonzo had puffed up, but didn’t see anything on him. Then I heard two familiar voices from the corner of the room, and peered behind the door. The figures owning the voices looked familiar as well. Tiefling girls, with orange and black hair.

“Aloha, Chyrel and Chami,” I said.

"What happened after that?" I asked Gonzo.

"What are you talking about?" he yelled thuggishly, between guzzles of Luskan ale. "I can't read your mind!"

I briefly explained the last things I rememerbed.

"I was passed out then," Gonzo shrugged, "How should I f-in know?"

"What do you remember?

"Oh yeah! You and Chami started kicking me and I woke up. So then you introduced the tiefling girls to the others and vice versa."

"It's those aodamn wyverns!" I shouted, holding my head. "What happened next?"

"So the others decided to let Verania join them, even though Arsenal still suspected ulterior motives. Chami kept bitching about everyone else but Chyrel convinced her to team up with them all. A few rounds of drinks and a new party was christened. That's when you got into the adrenaline and went apeshit. You started casting Fireballs and Ice Storms and shit all around the tavern. You even summoned a horde of Booze Memphits. Tavern's a bad, bad place for those, man. Then you whipped out your harp and played that terrible song of yours that makes people go insane. The Luskan Guard got there pretty fast, not to mention a platoon of Paladins of the Moral Order of Purity, and they recognized you. Apparently, man, they still have a warrant for us after that big turnipium bust during the Luskan Gibbon Riot ten years ago."

"The swine! That was Count Turnipsome all the way! We were Pawns!"

"I guzzled an invsibility potion and force-fed you one, then dragged your whacked-out hide out of the Flamingo before they had us in chains. Of course, then the paladins started running through the streets and divining and crap so the only safe place I could find was to hide out on a ship for the night. Unfortunately, I passed out too, and now it looks like we're out of harbor."

Universes exploded inside my mind. "What the hell is going on!? Where are we going?"

"We're on the Wicked Wench, man, and you've never believe this, but that party of adventurers we were hanging out with is here too! Actually, a whole bunch of them are."

"Are you saying..."

"That's right, man!"

"...I was only supposed to go to Luskan! Extrapolate the rest, then get back to Neverwinter Beach, sell the story, kick back!"

"Well man, now we're gonna get front-row seats for the action. Cuz we're along for the ride with the story..."

"Bound for Icewind Dale!?"