Cards Reshuffled

Lilarcor may not be particularly bright as swords go, or adept at much other than trying to chop various creatures into tiny little pieces. Then again, such behavior is excusable in a sword. It’s far less amusing in supposedly adult humans.

Excerpt from ‘Interview With An Assassin’

As Anomen slowly became able to move again, his first impulse was to go straight for the throat of Edwina, and hopefully wipe that smug smirk of the wizard’s face. Only through a massive gathering of willpower did he keep himself from doing so. Knights do not attack and strangle women. Knights do not attack and strangle women. Knights do not…is it really that important to become a knight? Surely I could somehow…no! Knights do not attack and strangle women…more’s the pity. No. Must stay calm. Composed. Virtuous. And it is not as if that wretched creature’s taunting means anything now anyway. With her transformed into a female form, she has effectively lost. No longer will she be able to entice the Lady Zaerini in the slightest. I can afford to be magnanimous, that will make me look all the better.

“Did you like the taste of Carrion Crawler excretions, Helmite?” Edwina said, smiling slyly. “Does it perhaps remind you of the taste of all those regurgitated platitudes about righteous paladins that you so like to spout? Or of the pungent taste of your superior’s posterior as you work hard to advance in the ranks of the Mindless Brigade?”

Knightsdonotattackandstranglewomen,Knightsdonotattackandstranglewomen,Knightsdonotattackandstranglewomen…

“Edwina…” Zaerini said, a warning edge to her voice. “Don’t start.”

Amazingly enough, the wizard actually acquiesced, shrugging briefly. “As you wish,” she said. “From the dull look in his eyes I doubt he’s unable to recognize and fully appreciate the rich texture of my ready wit at any rate.”

“I recognize a lost cause when I see one,” Anomen stiffly said. “As the flames of the Abyss welcome you, I hope you will remember this conversation and mourn that you did not choose to change your wicked ways while there was still time.” Is that monkey sticking its tongue out at me again? Knights do not attack and stomp on innocent animals…but dear Helm, might not your loyal servant be allowed to make a small exception for that furry fiend?

“Anomen…” Zaerini said, rubbing her fingers against her temple. “Please…”

“She started it!”

“No!” Edwina hissed. “He started it!”

“Will the pair of you just quit it?” the bard snarled, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Right now you are both being very annoying.” She turned to the dotty old man they had found down in the sewer. “Sorry about that,” she said, her voice pleasant once again. “Now, you mentioned something about a blade before? And also, have you seen any other people down here? Slavers?”

“Slavers…” the old madman murmured. “Slavers…Quallo is a slave, oh yes he is!” He giggled. “No slavers…or are there? Quallo doesn’t know, Quallo doesn’t see or hear…And the blade…oh yes! The One has left clues for you. Have you not found the clues? Where the topside filth drains, there are the clues. Return to me ere you follow the One's path, for there is much that you must learn.”

“The One?” Zaerini asked. “Who is the One?”

A crafty gleam crept into the man’s eyes. “You have met him already, child. Perhaps soon you shall know him well. Find the clues the One has left. There is danger in what you must undertake.”

“Well,” the half-elf said, shrugging. “That was informative, wasn’t it?” She sighed. “If we find this ‘One’, or his ‘clues’, we’ll come back to you. Bye for now.”

The adventurers now followed a tunnel they hadn’t explored yet, and after a while they could hear the sound of running water ahead. The tunnel ended in a small and square room, where water rushed out of four large copper pipes set into the walls. There was something odd about the water, Anomen noticed. A faint green glow. “Careful, my lady,” he warned Zaerini as she was about to step into the chamber. “I do not trust this place. With your permission, I will precede you.”

“You don’t have to do that, Ano,” the bard said, smiling briefly at him.

“That I know, my lady. Still, it is my wish.” Chivalry is clear on the point…but I would be happy to do so all the same. As he entered the room, there was a booming voice that seemed to come from the pipes ahead, echoing and metallic.

“At last! Find the keys, wielder! I've found a man lacking in worth, so he shall be my voice until I'm free. Prove your worth and I shall submit to your mastery. Listen to the words of my jailor, who cast me off so that he might pass from this world:”

Four locks are cast and made
Four wards will hold the blade
In what order shall thou place the keys?
Four deaths await thee

Anomen stared into the darkness ahead, trying to see the speaker, but there was nothing to be seen, only the rushing water. Great Helm, what is this creature? And why this strange obsession with bad rhymes?

The voice took on the excited tones of an eager child. “When all was silent I crept from the slime and scratched rhymes for you. Vallah forbade it and hid me, but he is dead, so I've ignored him.”

“Who are you, creature?” Anomen said, trying to sound as stern as possible. “What secret do you guard, and who is this ‘Vallah’ of whom you speak?”

The voice simply laughed at this. “I can't reveal all. Prove your worth -- find Quallo. We shall speak through that vessel. Be careful! The wards must be broken in the proper order.” Then it fell silent again, though the water kept glowing.

“Ah, yes,” Jan said, “the old puzzle-box trick. Ma Jansen used to hide the keys to the breadbox the same way, not that it ever stopped us. "Jan," she used to say, "one of these days you're going to have one too many sweetbreads!" I never did, although my cousin Arfie once did that day he exploded. Sad story, that.”

Zaerini had advanced upon the pipes, watching them curiously. “Look at this,” she said, pointing at the pipes. “There’s writing here, scratched into the pipes themselves. Very blocky, rough writing, almost like a child’s, but I think I can read it…” There were four poems in all, one for each pipe.

They wailed and sighed
Then they died
From the grave I’ve had my kiss
Bring me now the lover’s gift

No sacrifice will do,
But the blood of a friend, true.
But guilt will leave its stain
If you wish to have the blade

Vallah is no more
But he has left a thing behind
Give me a hand
And I shall help you in return

Smell of dog
Skin of lizard
To find the staff,
Kill the wizard

“Eeewww…” Zaerini said, wrinkling her nose. “That’s really bad poetry…”

“At least the fourth one should be easy to adhere to,” Anomen said, giving Edwina a dark look. “Smell of dog, skin of lizard, to find the staff, kill the wizard. I shall be very happy to comply, just give the word.”

“I’ll have you know,” Edwina sneered, “that my skin is perfectly soft and supple. Then again, I take good care of myself, and have mastered basic hygiene, unlike you, ape. Now, verse three is more to my liking…it shall be my pleasure to remove that hand of yours, though all the…polishing…has likely made it bulky enough that it will have difficulty fitting into the pipe!”

“Actually,” Jan said, “you’re both looking at this the wrong way, young ones! We have the ring from Ano’s little friend Christine, we have that smelly old hand you found down that sewer, ‘Dwina, and we have the staff of the kobold wizard. Really now…if you want a simple and straightforward answer to your problems you should call on the gnome, haven’t you learnt that yet?”

“What about the fourth one?” Zaerini asked. “That one worries me a bit, all that ‘blood of a friend true’.”

“Minsc is good and true!” Minsc proudly stated. “Minsc will give his blood happily if asked, though he’d prefer to give it in battle, not because spooky voices asks it. Boo tells Minsc not to trust in funny voices, only crazy people do that.”

“Don’t worry, Minsc,” Zaerini said, patting the giant ranger on the arm. “I would never ask you to do a thing like that.” She gave Anomen and Edwina an empathetic look, just as they both opened their mouths. “And you two, don’t even think about suggesting using each other’s blood. Just forget it.”

Truly, Anomen thought, she does see right through me at times, much like Moira. Moira…I wonder how she is? I should go see her soon, as long as I can manage to do so without running into Father.

“There is always the carrion crawler…” Jaheira suggested.

“No!” Zaerini shook her head, red locks dancing about her face. “We can’t kill poor Quallo’s only friend.”

“It likely wouldn’t work anyway,” Edwina said. “The wards will not accept anything other but the blood of your friend, I think.”

The bard nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a nail. “True…we’ll have to think of something else.” Then her face lit up. “Hey! I have an idea…we’re all friends, right?” Then her eyes flickered between himself and Edwina. “Well, at least you’re all friends with me. So let’s take this riddle really, really literally.”

A few minutes later Anomen was squeezing some blood out of his palm and into a small glass vial, as Zaerini looked on approvingly. “There! That’s the last one,” she said, shaking the vial. “All of our blood in here. After all, it’s not as if it said anything about how much blood was needed. Now let’s go talk to Quallo about the order of those wards.”

As she practically bounced away down the passage, Anomen exchanged a long look with Edwina, who was walking next to him. “Do not think that this means anything, wizard,” he said. “For one thing, a blood-brotherhood implies that both parties involved are male.”

“Do not presume, oh mighty raker of paladin stables,” Edwina scoffed. “As if I would ever wish to mingle my pure and unadulterated Thayvian blood with yours. I’d sooner mate with a swine.” She smirked nastily. “From the look of you, your mother could probably elaborate on such practices if you wish to know more about them.”

Knights do not attack and strangle women…Knights do not attack and strangle women…but Helm protect me, I will give in to a small temptation, just this once. Shouldering his way past Edwina, Anomen’s greater weight and bulk toppled the wizard and landed her sitting on the mucky and slimy floor. “Watch out, wizard,” Anomen said, chuckling. “You are no longer quite yourself…nor are you, shall we say, part of the competition? Perhaps you should leave such things for proper men.”

“MY ROBE!” Edwina cried out, her voice gradually rising in pitch and volume as she took in the sight of the splattered garment. Her eyes actually seemed to be glowing red in the semi-darkness, and as she got to her feet again her fingers curled into claws and her mouth twisted into a snarl. Anomen took an involuntary step backwards. Edwin in his male form had never made him feel the least bit concerned for his safety, but there was something about Edwina at this particular moment that made him feel as if he was standing on top of an erupting volcano. “I will enjoy burning every ounce of flesh off your bones,” Edwina hissed, and now her eyes had definitely got a red hint to them. Her voice had lowered to a deadly and sibilant whisper. “And then I will pulverize the bones themselves, spit on them and scatter them to the four winds. Rest assured, despite my accident I am every bit myself and an Odesseiron, and an Odesseiron does not stand idly by to watch another try to steal what is his…or hers.”

It is possible that things might have turned very nasty at this point, if Zaerini hadn’t turned around to place herself between the wizard and the cleric. “Stop it!” she yelled, her voice sharp with anger. “Both of you!” She pointed a commanding finger at Anomen. “You! You walk up front, with Minsc.” Then she turned to Edwina, glaring the wizard straight in the eyes. “And you. You stay in the back, as far from him as possible. Am I being clear enough for you?”

Edwina breathed heavily, and for a few moments Anomen thought she would protest. But then something seemed to pass between her and the half-elf, and she nodded stiffly. “Very well,” she said. “I cannot bear his stench anyway.” She turned around, passing closely by Anomen. “Remember, priest. I meant what I said. (And if he so much as tries to touch her, I will make certain he does not repeat the attempt. It is hard to touch things without an arm.)”

Threaten as you wish, Evil One, Anomen thought. It is clear that you feel threatened yourself now…and so this is the perfect opportunity for me. I must make certain to get to speak with the lady Zaerini alone as soon as possible. The better I get to know her, the sooner I will be able to tell her of the depth of my feelings. And may you choke as you witness our radiant happiness.

Quallo was able to provide the adventurers with the clues they needed about which pipe they should place which required object in, and as soon as they did so there was a bright light inside the chamber, and an object fell clattering to the ground. It was a sword, Anomen noticed, a shining and most likely magical two-handed sword.

“Oh, look!” Minsc said, picking the sword up. “A very pretty sword, and it even has a name!”

“A name?” Jaheira asked. “How do you know?”

“It says here right on the blade, see? Boo can read it…he says that it says ‘Lilarcor’!”

At the sound of its name, a cheerful, steely and extremely eager voice rang out from the sword. “Lilarcor! That’s meeeee, baby! And I’m the hottest sword from here to Kara-Tur, ya know! Got any cute scabbards around this place? Or some monsters? I like to kill! KILL KILL KILL! Got any dragons here? Dragons have good loot. If you get good loot, you can buy me a good scabbard!”

”You know,” Zaerini said to nobody in particular, “I’ve heard about sentient swords – but I guess that ‘sentient’ doesn’t mean exactly the same as ‘intelligent’.”