Adrian: Baldur's Gate

Imoen looked at herself in the mirror. She was truly a mage now, a better mage than she had ever been a thief. To celebrate, she had gotten herself a new outfit. Abandoning the pink-and-purple combination that had been her trademark, she now wore a black-and-yellow leather bodysuit. She cocked her head, appraising herself in the mirror, thoughtfully. She missed the pink; perhaps she would dye her hair that color. But that was for later. Besides, black was a much more appropriate color for a Daughter of.....

She shook the thought away. She didn't want to think about it. Somehow, she'd gained a few minor healing spells because of her dark heritage. Jaheira had been pleased by that; she said it meant she was resisting the darkness within. Imoen wasn't so sure. She was a changed person now; much sadder and quieter.

Adrian was in the city now, that she knew. She wanted to see him again. To see her Brother. She shivered, thinking of why that relationship existed.

But not now. Later today she would leave the city with Khalid, Jaheira, and Brawnen, on a mission for the Harpers. Something strange was happening on the road north to Waterdeep, and they were to investigate. Sighing, she turned her back on the mirrior and began gathering her spellbook and adventuring gear.

After that embarrasment in the Elfsong, Kagain had taken a long walk to cool his blood. He was down by the docks now, watching the ships come in and go out. Commerce on the water. He had no love for the sea itself, but their travels with Zavrian had shown that fun could be had out there. He smiled a little, remembering.

He turned his back on the ocean and looked at the city. Kagain liked cities. Be it a Dwarven citadel, Human town, or even a Half-Orc moot, cities were places of life, of money changing hands, of constant activity.

For a while he watched the fishermen sitting on the docks, pulling up fat fish. Poor children ran, screamed, and played with each other. Those merchants who set up near the docks, hawking their wares. Kagain felt something approaching contentment.

"Kagain Dragonaxe?" a gravelly voice hailed him.

He turned, and saw an unremarkable man in thief garb, with a crossbow slung across his back. "I am glad to have caught you away from the others. The Iron Throne sends their greetings."

Instantly, Kagain's hand went to his axe. He was a fool, isolating himself from the others like this. After all they'd been through today, why hadn't he just gone to bed?

But the Throne's representative held up his hands. "Hold, hold. I've not come for your head. Not today at least, and perhaps not at all."

Kagain retained his grip on the axe hilt, but did not yet draw it. "What do you mean?"

"My name is Lothander. The Throne has tired of Adrian's sabotage of our operations, and he will die. But you, perhaps, can escape that fate."

"Why me?"

"We've come to know all of Adrian's followers. Each of the others--the Zhentarim, the Drow, the Cyricist, the Thayvian--are too loyal to their own particular faction, as well as to Adrian, to be swayed. But you, Kagain, are a practical sort. Gold is your loyalty. The Throne can double any booty you'd get with Adrian. We want to hire you. Join us, help us end his threat, and you will be handsomely rewarded. Your escort service in Beregost could become the crossroads of the Sword Coast, with Throne patronage."

Kagain stood there, hand still on his axe hilt. For a long moment. Lothander hoped he was seriously considering the offer.

"Two flaws in your offer there, mate," said Kagain, eventually.

Lothander frowned. "What flaws?"

"First, I know full well, since your're willing to bribe me, that I could have a share of your coffers after Adrian destroys you--and destroy you he will, I doubt ye understand what drives him--which would be larger than any offer you make. Second, I've been in the business a long time. You honestly think I'm fool enough to beleive you'd honor any bargain you'd make with me? Once Adrian was slain, you'd kill me too, and take over my service yourselves. My answer is no."

Lothander spat, and nodded grimly. "Then you shall die with him."

"Go, Throne dog," said Kagain, "Before I cleave your head from your shoulders."

Lothander paled, and backed away.

Kagain hurried back to the Elfsong. Adrian must know.