In The Cards

When I work my art I forget everything around me. Sleeping, eating, they are meaningless words when viewed through the burning haze of inspiration. But inspiration can far too easily become obsession, and obsession is a deadly master who will be pleased to whip you into a too early grave.

Excerpt from 'Ruminations Of A Master Bard'

The group of adventurers set out the next morning, heading south on their way out of Nashkel. They were just passing by the barracks when a fat and very nervous-looking man came waddling up to them.

"There you are!" he exclaimed. "I am so pleased to see you!"

"Excuse me?" Zaerini asked. "Have we met? I don't think…"

The man hastily shook his head. "No, say not another word", he said. "I would not think of making you wait but a moment for your just reward. When the council told me that they had procured GREYWOLF (Formerly known as 'the Deathstalker') to rid the woods of the bandit Tonquin, I knew we could expect swift justice. I would not have predicted success this quickly, but who else could it be striding into town looking....ah...looking as you do. Please accept this meager sum of 200 gold pieces, as well as the heartfelt thanks of all of Nashkel." He held out a bag of coins, looking as if almost he expected the half-elf to cut his hand off in order to get to it.

"Greywolf?" Rini said with a small smirk. "Never met him. And with a silly name like 'the Deathstalker' he doesn't sound like anybody I'd want to meet. Sounds like a right pillock if you ask me."

The fat man's brow turned shiny with nervous sweat. "Y-you are not Greywolf the bounty hunter? (Formerly known as 'the Deathstalker') Oh sweet Helm, I almost gave 200 gold pieces to a complete stranger!? The Captain best not hear of this; he'd have my hide. Thanks be for your honesty, stranger, there are those who would not have done as such."

Rini shrugged casually. "Don't mention it", she said. "So, you're in charge of paying up for bounties around here, are you? You must be a very important man, then." She gave the man a warm smile that made him puff up like a blowfish ready to burst.

"Me? Why, I am Oublek, and I am what binds the guard to the public! A vital relations link, I am. Indispensable."

"Of course you are. Now, about those bounties… Any unclaimed ones at the moment?"

"Our captain of the guard is still on the loose. Keep your blade ready if you get anywhere near him. Very dangerous, he is. There is also a bit of foolishness with a local artist named Prism. Stole a couple of emeralds, he did. We seek their return, though Prism's fate is of little concern."

"I see", Zaerini said. "Well, maybe I'll come across them."

"I've heard about that captain fellow", Imoen said as soon as Oublek was out of hearing range. "There was this guy called Volo at the tavern the other night. "Seems he was a nice man, happily married, a couple of kids. Then one day he just went crazy and killed them all, just like that. He ran off into the woods and nobody has seen him since."

"An unpleasant business", Jaheira said. "I suggest we do not go out of our way looking for that man. And by the way, Zaerini, I must say I am pleased with your behavior just now. You could easily have kept Oublek's money, but you chose the honest path."

The bard grinned. "Don't know about honest", she said. "But I want to achieve fame and glory under my own name, not another's. And especially not a ridiculous one like 'Greywolf the Deathstalker', 200 gold isn't worth that particular humiliation. What kind of idiot calls himself something like that anyway?"

Edwin snorted disdainfully. "One of the many insignificant pawns on the chessboard of life", he said. "Though Greywolf may well be a woman. Female bounty hunters and assassins are not that uncommon and I doubt whether the fat fool back in Nashkel knew for certain what sex this one was."

"You have a point there", Rini said and gave him a thoughtful look. "What's the difference between bounty hunters and assassins by the way?"

"The line is a blurred one", Edwin explained. He paused briefly as if he were considering his next words carefully. "Briefly put, the bounty hunter sometimes brings his prey back alive while the assassin administers punishment on the spot. Though many bounty hunters also choose this approach, since transporting prisoners can be awkward. Also, bounty hunters tend to be more nomadic while assassins more often operate within a select territory, which causes confrontations between the two categories now and then."

Rini thought about this. "So if a stranger kills you for money out in the wilderness, it's likely a bounty hunter, but in the city it's an assassin?"

"Put in words simple enough for you to understand, yes. (Though why I bother with imparting my knowledge to people unlikely to make good use of it is a complete mystery to me.)"

"You seem to know a lot about these things, wizard", Jaheira said in a suspicious voice. "Why is that?"

"I received a well-rounded education, treehugger. I wouldn't expect you to understand such things, however, since your own probably consisted of communing with nature by spending hours at a time talking to trees and rocks. (And such a sparkling conversationalist they made you too.)"

"You dare…"

"Dared and did. Tell me something, druid. If a tree falls in the forest, and there is nobody around to hear it, is it still possible to persuade it to hit you?"

"No, but I need no persuasion in order to hit you!" Jaheira snapped.

"Not now", Zaerini interrupted them. "I think we are getting close to the mines." And so they were. The wood was getting sparser, the ground steeper and rockier. The adventurers passed by a couple of storage sheds kept by the miners, but there were no humans in sight.

"The a-actual mine-site is t-that way", Khalid said, pointing towards the west.

"Hm", Rini said. "I think we should take a brief look around the area first. Just to make sure the mines isn't plagued by some group of monsters lurking around these woods."

The rest of the party agreed to this and they moved down a gradual slope, surrounded by tall rocks. And then they heard the sound coming from around a bend in the path. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Fast and hectic, and showing no sign of stopping any time soon.

"Wonder what that is?" Zaerini whispered. "It sounds really freakish." Then she turned the corner so see the origin of the sound and knew that she had been completely right. There was a man standing in front of her, maybe forty years old or so. His clothes had been expensive once, like those of an Amnian noble, but now they hung dirty and wrinkled from his emaciated form. The man himself wasn't in much better shape. He looked as if he hadn't eaten or slept properly for weeks, his skin was gray and cracked, his eyes sunken into his skull, his lips bleeding and dry. Tangled hair covered with dust, hands like claws, cheeks painfully gaunt. A man who looked that bad oughtn't to be able to stand, he looked as if he would keel over dead at any moment. He paid no attention to the travelers, his entire mind and soul was focused on his work, the face he was carving out of the rock. It was a woman's face, beautiful and regal. It was also the face of an elf.

"Silvanus preserve us", Jaheira murmured. "That poor man is working himself to death."

The artist chose that moment to speak, in an incoherent and rambling voice directed at the sculpture in front of him. His voice was a dry whisper, worn out and cracking at the edges. "Ahh, beauteous creature! Never should I have stolen these emeralds, but there was nothing else that would capture the majesty of thine yes! I did what must be done, for I have left my shop, forgotten all my commissions, and spent all that I had. I must complete thee!"

What a silly creature, Softpaws remarked, her mental voice sounding amused.

Yes, Zaerini agreed. I understand about him being committed to his art. When I've been busy composing or writing I've forgotten about food and sleep once in a while. But there is such a thing as going too far.

That's not what I meant. Why would he want to make a sculpture of some snooty-looking elf when he could do lovely cats? Think he would do one of me?

I don't know. We could ask him, I suppose.

"Hello", Zaerini said, tapping the enraptured artist on the shoulder. "Busy day?"

The man twisted around, his reddened eyes gleaming fanatically, and he almost dropped his hammer and chisel. "What?" he asked. "There is someone here?" The eyes then fixed on the half-elf and her companions and he began to tremble violently. "'Twas that relentless Greywolf (formerly known as the Deathstalker) who sent you, wasn't it?" Now he sounded as if he were about to cry.

Greywolf again. Rini was really getting tired of that name. "If he's such a great bounty hunter, would he really be needing us to help him?" she asked. Then she sighed briefly as she saw that the comment had gone straight above the man's head. "No", she continued. "I have nothing to do with anyone named Greywolf, and nor would I want to. As a matter of fact I'd rather eat a live slug."

"Thank Deneir", the man exclaimed. "I thought I was done in. I am Prism, and I fear I am not cut out for a life on the run. Mayhaps you could help a foolish sculptor finish this epiphany? Please, guard this place, for surely Greywolf will come seeking the bounty on the gems. I will pay with my last possessions if you would do this one service for me."

"Your last possessions?" Edwin remarked in an interested voice. "And what would those be? Gold? Jewels? (As long as it's not simply a collection of bills.) It would need to exceed the bounty, of course."

"No, it wouldn't", Imoen interrupted. "We can't just let him get killed, can we?"

"Why not? He stole the emeralds. If there is a bounty on his head it's his own fault. And if he is too stupid to even flee from the bounty hunter I fail to see why we should concern ourselves with him unless he is able to produce proper payment."

"Because that's not what heroes do", Imoen protested, tossing her pink hair and crossing her arms across her chest. "Tell him, Rini!"

"Heroes?" Edwin sneered. "You don't know much about heroes, do you, little thief? 'Hero' is simply another name for 'adventurer killed prematurely by his own stupidity'."

"That's enough", Zaerini snapped and glared at the Red Wizard. "Nobody picks on Immy around me, and you'd better remember that." She turned to Prism. "If it is so important, then I shall guard you as best I can. Yes. I understand about works of art, even if you have been very foolish."

The sculptor's weary eyes lit up with new joy. "I thank you", he said, "for I cannot run from this place until my task is done. I have been using potions of speed to aid my work, and have not slept for days. She is beautiful, is she not? 'Tis a monument to my foolishness. I saw her but once, on the outskirts of Evereska, and said nothing. I let thee pass from mine eyes, and mine heart hath cursed me for it!"

"Whatever", Rini said. She thought the statue of the elven woman looked very high and mighty, and extremely self-righteous. Not like a person she'd like to meet at all. "Now, I don't need all of your possessions as payment, seeing as you're a fellow artist and all. But I'd much appreciate it if you'd take a break from your lady up there and do me another sculpture?"

"Another sculpture?" Prism asked, sounding puzzled. "Of thee, my lady? You are beautiful to be sure, but such a work would take much time."

"No, no", Zaerini said, blushing a little. "And quit flattering me, I know perfectly well I'm not beautiful. It's not of me. It's of my friend here." Softpaws leapt onto her shoulder, purring softly and gazing at the sculptor with her emerald green eyes as she flicked her tail lightly from side to side.

"A feline beauty!" the artist gushed. "Truly, inspiration burns within me like a fire this day. Yes, I shall carry out your commission, sweet lady, and gladly so. Come here if you please, good feline, and hold your tail high for me to see." The black cat preened proudly in front of Prism, posing with her tail high. See? She sounded very pleased. I told you he'd prefer a cat to a snooty elf. The man has excellent taste.

Prism worked quietly for another hour or so, now and then muttering things like 'yes, lovely' or 'head a little to the left'. When he was done he handed Zaerini a small sculpture, a beautiful figurine in black marble brought along from his old supplies before the current craze. It was a black cat, crouching and ready to leap on its prey, intelligence and determination radiating from its face. The eyes were a pair of small emeralds, glowing fiercely. The figurine was a perfect likeness of Softpaws.

"It's…beautiful", Zaerini said, showing the sculpture to her familiar. The cat purred her approval and twined herself around Prism's legs in an obvious gesture of gratitude. "Thank you. I'll let you get back to your own work now."

"It is almost done", Prism smiled, his haggard face almost glowing with the inner light of the creator gazing upon his creation. "I will just…" Then he was rudely interrupted.

A man came walking towards the group with determined strides. He was a tall and muscular man, armed in leather armor and with a bow across his back and a sword at his side. His hair was iron gray and cropped closely to his head, his face brown and lined like old leather. "I have come for you, Prism", he said in an emotionless voice.

"No! Not yet!", the artist begged, white-faced and trembling. "My work is nearly done! Please, I implore you!"

The bounty hunter shook his head. "Your sentiment is wasted on me, fool. You are but gold in my purse. Do you make your situation worse by hiring help to protect you? Who are you fools?" The last words were spoken to the small group of adventurers, and not in a very polite voice either.

"Who we are is unimportant", Rini said and gave the man a cool look. "What is important, is that we are armed to the teeth and we mean to stop you from hurting him! Oh, and I bet I know who you are. You have to be 'Greywolf, formerly known as Deathstalker'. Tell me, did you change your name because you were to stupid to spell the old one or was it just a reaction to your approaching old age? If so, I wonder what you're going to call yourself when you get even older. How about 'Baldy'? Or 'Senile'?"

"At least I'll get older", the bounty hunter growled. "Unlike you lot! I'll sell your blades for scrap and make soup of your spell fixings! Pity you'll not live to realize the mistake you've made!" He drew his sword, a beautiful blade that glowed with a pale blue light, and then he charged. The charge was abruptly cut short, however. The redheaded half-elf had drawn the magic wand she had stolen back in Beregost, and now she fired it three times in rapid succession. Several jagged bolts of blinding white and blue lightning shot out of it with a loud crackling sound, the recoil almost making Rini fall flat on her back. Three of them managed to hit Greywolf in the chest and the bounty hunter jerked and thrashed on the ground as the electrical current passed through him, his hair starting to smoke. The smell of charred flesh was terrible. Then Greywolf was still, his final hunt come to an end.

"Well, that's that…" Zaerini started to say. And then she saw a lightning bolt coming towards her at full speed from where it had bounced against a rock. "DUCK!" she screamed and then followed her own advice. Her companions all threw themselves to the ground and the lightning bolt passed harmlessly above them to set a small tree on fire. Once the adventurers made it onto their shaky legs once more there was a short moment of silence during which only the crackling sounds of the burning tree could be heard. Greywolf's corpse was still smoking quietly on the ground.

"As novel an experience as that was", Edwin said in a highly sarcastic voice, "next time I would appreciate it if you could take care to actually aim that thing and above all not to use it where it can fire back at us. (She's going to get me killed. I know it. And we haven't even progressed beyond basic spellcasting yet.)"

"Oh, put a cork in it", Zaerini said, feeling a little irritable. "It's your fault. You never told me the lightning would bounce. You're my instructor. You could try being a little more supportive." She blew at the smoking end of the wand and watched the thin trail of smoke evaporate.

"Supportive? If I was any more supportive I'd be carrying you on my back."

"Fine by me."

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

"Uh, guys", Imoen interrupted. "I think you should take a look at this."

Prism had slumped to the ground after placing two more emeralds within the empty sockets of his masterpiece. Now he was stretched out on the ground, his eyes fixed upon the sculpture's face as his breathing grow more heavy and uneven with every minute. "Alas, my work is complete", he gasped, his voice now a feeble croak. "Take what you will from my possessions, but leave the sparkle in her eyes. O sweet creature, My effigy to thee is done. Perhaps our paths shall cross in distant Realms, and I shall find the courage to call thy name. Ellesime!" A single sigh passed between his lips and his eyes glazed over with death.

"What a very sad end", Jaheira said, her voice regretful.

"Sad?" Edwin said. "I call it a pathetic one. The man was an obsessive fool, too blind to know when to abandon his mad project and return to reality. Such behavior is despicably idiotic." He sounded unusually vehement.

"I don't know…" Rini said. "He was an artist. At least he died knowing his grandest work was complete. I…understand that, I guess." She found two more emeralds on the dead body and pocketed them along with the sculpture of her familiar. Then she turned to Greywolf's corpse. That sword had looked very interesting. It was a beautiful weapon, cold to her touch, sharp and deadly. It almost seemed to call out to her.

"C-careful", Khalid warned. "It l-looks magical. You don't know what it d-does."

"But I do…" Zaerini whispered. The blade sang, a story of death, of betrayal, and of vengeance. "Varscona", the half-elf said. "Her name is Varscona. And she is mine." She knew that it was true, knew it without knowing how. The sword cried for revenge, revenge against those who had killed she who was once its wielder, she who had been buried with it stuck through her chest. Well, they are long gone, Zaerini thought. You can help me with my revenge instead. She removed her old sword from her scabbard and sheathed Varscona instead. The metal of the old weapon was cracking, she noticed. It would likely have broken like a dried twig soon, possibly costing her life. Varscona wouldn't break. She might even be strong enough to pierce the spiked armor of Gorion's murderer and bury herself within another chest.

"Let's go", Rini said. "I say we head back towards the mines now. There don't seem to be any dangerous monsters about here that could explain all the troubles. I suppose we're going to have to look inside. But before we go to far I want us to have that little talk we agreed upon, Jaheira."

The druid nodded. "Very well", she said, and gave the two dead men an uncomfortable look. "But not in this place. There is too much death about, and the tale is grim enough without it. Let us move away a little. Then there will be time to talk."