Adrian: Baldur's Gate

They experienced their first test about a half hour later. A horde of small hairy creatures with violet skin--Adrian recognized them as Gibberlings from the bestiary texts in Candlekeep--came swarming out of the woods at them.

Adrian raised his crossbow, and Imoen her bow, and let fly. The decimated the creatures fairly easily. Adrian was a better marksman, Imoen a faster shot.

Adrian preferred the crossbow. He had nothing against close combat--a long sword hung in a sheath from his belt--but for all his battle-fury, the idea had always been to win your battles, with as few injuries to yourself as possible. And Adrian like the solid wood-and-metal construction of a crossbow, felt it a cunning and worthy weapon.

Imoen had less trouble dealing with these bodies than Gorion's, but still wasn't comfortable, her pink-violet hood falling to conceal her face as they looted the dead. A few gold coins, and a handful of useless daggers. They kept the gold and threw the weapons away.

As they came to the large stone marker that announced the intersection of the Way of the Lion and the Coast way, Adrian narrowed his far-seeing eyes and looked up the path.

Two people were walking down it towards them. One tall, one short. At this distance, he could make out no more details than that.

"Company," he said in a low voice to Imoen.

"Trouble?" she asked him, fingering her bow. Adrian was pleased to see her combat readiness.

"Possibly. We'll see. We shall advance to meet them." Holding his loaded crossbow in one hand, they started walking up the path.

"Something troubling you?" asked the taller of the two, a man with wild black hair, obviously a mage. Black and green robes swirled around his form, and a black tattooed mask framed his green eyes. Those two colors--black and green--would always remind Adrian of Xzar.

"Aye, I'd say there be," said his hafling associate, dressed in Studded leather armor, wielding a short sword and buckler. His short brown hair was cropped to a length little more than Adrian's own, and bright blue eyes looked up at him out of what was, for a halfling, a grim face.

"We've had some trouble," Adrian agreed, coolly. "Might you be planning to add to it?"

"Not trouble for you, young man," the mage assured him archly, in a smooth voice. "But perhaps we might cause some trouble for others. Specifically, whoever is disrupting the mines of Nashkel."

"This Iron crisis?" asked Imoen, uncertainly, "You think there's a connection?"

"It'd be damn strange if there wasn't, lass," grunted the halfling. "And if not, then at least there be something down there that needs seeing to."

Despite their secluded life in Candlekeep, Adrian and Imoen had kept abreast of events on the Sword Coast, thanks largely to Gorion. The citadel of learning didn't get many visitors, but those they did always had news. The tale of bad iron making many day-to-day activities difficult was well known to them. That was another reason Adrian was relying on his crossbow, made years ago, than the newer sword, which might be suspect.

"I have some questions to put to some people in the Friendly Arms," Adrian said. "But after that, I will be in need of work."

Yes...he would need work. With Candlekeep closed to him, he would have to earn his way. That suited Adrian. Life had already been hard on him, and pulling his own weight was something he took to naturally, almost eagerly.

"A night in a bed never hurt anyone," agreed the mage. "My name is Xzar, and my short, irascible companion is called Montaron." He ignored Montaron's derisive snort. "Your assistance would be appreciated. But first, perhaps we can assist you; for I see that you are wounded." He drew a blue bottle from his robes and passed it over.

Adrian knew a healing potion when he saw one. The thought crossed his mind that it might be poisoned; but it was a risk he felt the need to take. Besides, it appeared that if this Xzar wanted him dead, it would be on the battlefield of his own agenda, not here and now.

He swallowed the potion in one gulp. The wound on his face shriveled a cold white line on his right cheek, and he felt better.

"Yer first battle scar, eh kid?" Montaron asked.

"My first, yes. But probably not the last."

"Aye," the halfling chuckled.

Montaron and Adrian took point, with Xzar and Imoen following.

"Ho there, wanderer."

Adrian turned and snapped his weapon to the left, finger on the trigger.

A tall mage in blue robes and a ridiculous pointed hat wandered out of the woods.

"Stay thy course a moment to indulge an old man."

Xzar's eyes bulged as he regarded this newcomer.

"You know this mage?" Adrian asked him.

"Know of him," Xzar agreed, in a high pitched voice.

The old man raised an eyebrow at Xzar, who looked at his feet and mumbled something meaningless. Adrian found that reassuring; Xzar was not the smooth character he first seemed.

Which is not to say he trusted this newcomer. "And who are you?"

The old man chuckled. "Suffice it to say, for now, that I am a mage of some repute. I will not delay you long, but it is not safe to wander in the woods."

"I know, we're heading for the Friendly Arms."

"Indeed? And do you know where to find it?"

"Aye," said Montaron, "We just keep goin' this way."

Adrian nodded. "We are following the path."

The old wizard seemed to consider this a moment longer, holding Adrian's eyes. Adrian looked back, calmly, his cold grey orbs boring into the old man.

Eventually the other nodded. "Aye. I can see you know what you are doing. I shall leave you to it, then."

And hobbling over his oaken staff, he moved on.

"Okay, who was that?" Imoen asked Xzar.

"A sanctimonious fool," Xzar snapped, irritably. "Whom I sincerely hope we never meet again."

Adrian watched the wizard's retreating back. "I get the feeling he won't cross us."

"You trust him?" Imoen asked, surprised.

"Trust? No. But I believe it is in his own interests not to disrupt us, at least for now. Enough navel-gazing. Let's move."