There are scenes here that are homages to one of my favorite films. See if you can spot them. :)

As the happy spider Khittix was busy devouring a giant beetle on top of the bed, Viconia sat next to him and lovingly stroked his carapace. The room was very warm tonight, proof of some increased activity in the lava-streams running through-out the city. But also, nerves were tense. Today would be the last day in the Three Sisters Arena Tournament and Laska had made it to the final round. She would be fighting a champion of some repute.

Three knocks in rapid succession, as they had agreed upon, sounded through the room.

"Yes, Keldorn, come in," Viconia said while she continued stroking the spider.

"Khittix?" Keldorn said as he closed the door behind him, making sure it was locked.

"I've not let him out of the statue much lately," Viconia said. "I don't want him running around freely in this city. But sometimes I let him out at night to give him some food, like this giant beetle I bought at the market."

"I see," Keldorn said. "To business, then. Dynaheir and I have ensured a cart filled with supplies will be ready for us to take it to the temple."

"Did the supply-company ask any troublesome questions?"

"No," Keldorn said. "The attendants would rather go to the fights, so they were quite happy. All they think is that we're travellers wanting to make a few extra coins before departing."

"Good," Viconia said and stood up from the bed. She bent down and removed a sack from under the bed. "The artisan I hired to make the dragon egg replica's did a fine job. They are perfect, and they should be for the money I paid for them."

"Excellent," Keldorn said. "Then we must hurry. The fight starts in an hour. Has Imoen..."

At that moment, the door flew open and Imoen sped inside, tossing Laska's bag of holding on the bed. "Got it!"

"Imoen, the door was locked!" Keldorn stated.

"Yeah," Imoen winked. "So?"

"Never mind," Viconia said and proceeded to open the sack and took out the fake eggs.

"Oh, can I see?" Imoen said as she picked up one of the phony eggs. It was large, brown and covered with slight indentations and specks of black. "It's so light!"

"These eggs are as true as the real thing as can be," Viconia said as she snatched the egg and put it into the bag of holding. "Did Laska spot you taking her bag?"

"Nah," Imoen said. "She was too worked up for the fight anyway."

"Alright," Keldorn said. "Once we get our plan underway, we can return to the surface and leave this miserable place behind us once and for all."

"Try to convince Laska of that," Viconia sighed. "It won't be easy."

Outside of the preparation-chambers, Laska could hear the cheers and calls from a restless audience. The Arena was packed, even more people were watching this fight than the last one, and Laska was determined to give them a good show. Laska, this time having chosen for a light chainmail for protection, took out her two blades and twirled them for good measure, loosening her muscles in the process.

"Laska," Phaere said as she entered the preparation-chambers. The elf turned around and lowered her blades, and saw Phaere standing in the doorway with a somewhat dour look on her face. She wasn't wearing her usual decorative platemail, but instead wore a tight-fitting suede tunic with pride. In her hands was an object wrapped in a black cloth.

"Come to see me off?" Laska grinned, sheathed her blades and strode over her. To her dismay, Phaere avoided the embrace Laska had planned.

"You're up against a formidable opponent," Phaere sighed. "For a male, he is surprisingly competent. Undefeated in combat. He is Lasoanar the Destroyer. He has killed dozens of our surface cousins during the war already and is eager for blood."

"Lasoanar the Destroyer," Laska snorted. "Oh, yes, I know the type. The name is no doubt self-given."

"Do not underestimate him," Phaere said. "It's an honorary title given to him by my mother herself. He is genuine."

"Well, in that case," Laska grinned. "I will genuinely chop his legs off..."

"That is why I brought you something," Phaere said. "I had this pulled out of my personal treasury," she added as she presented the cloth-wrapped item. Carefully, Phaere opened the cloth, presenting her with a magnificent blade.

Laska gasped as she took it and held it for the first time. The blade was perfectly balanced, but the magic even made Laska's skin tingle. It seemed to absorb light as Laska held it up, gleamed green with the acidic and poisonous properties contained within. Both edges were serrated... razor sharp. This was truly a weapon of terror and destruction... a weapon to wreak havoc with.

"Take it," Phaere said. "It was a gift from a business contact, but I never used it. I'd rather have it used by you than have it gathering dust in my treasury."

"Thank you," Laska whispered, then grinned. "Fixing the match, ey?"

"Not so," Phaere said. "It doesn't fit my... interests for you to lose. And I wish you to be unscathed as much as possible."

Phaere approached Laska and briefly touched her cheek. "Oh, Laska," Phaere whispered. "If you win this match, you win the games... you'll have it all. You'll have prestige, ownership, money, slaves. Enough to even start your own House, if you so desire. A small House, naturally, but all things start small."

"Why didn't you ever start your own House?" Laska asked.

"Oh," Phaere grinned. "My inn and my network give me more power than a House ever could. Why should I downgrade?"

"If you don't, then why should I?" Laska grinned. "There's only one thing I do really want..."

"Then go and win your fight," Phaere nodded and flashed Laska a brief smile. "Afterwards we'll celebrate."

Laska and Phaere were briefly liplocked. Then, Phaere broke the kiss. "I will be watching you from the arena. Swift Victory, Laska."

Keldorn steered the cart being pulled forward by two shaggy-haired Rothe over the multitude of suspended walkways over the city of Ust Natha. There was not a soul out. Everybody was either watching the fight in the Spire or following the battle through the scrying bowl from their homes.

Suddenly, a brief shock went through the cart.

"Sorry," Keldorn whispered to the cursing sacks in the back of the cart. "Pothole."

Higher and higher they went up, towards the suspended temple above the city, hanging over it as if to rain terror and death upon the city at a whim.

Finally, the cart arrived on the ramp way leading into the temple, an ominous building shaped vaguely like a spider sitting on top of a pedestal. The only guards in sight were two bored males looking to be quite miffed to be there.

"Ho," the first male yawned. "Who goes?"

"Supply-run," Keldorn nodded.

"Ah, they got you doing work too, ey?" the second male snorted. "Bloody females. All the priestesses went down to watch the fight but us working stiffs never get a break. Got 200 coins riding on the female and now I won't even know the outcome."

"Oy, where's daft Harriman?" the first male asked.

"He, um, well, he wanted to go to the fight and..."

"Hired you right off the streets to take his place so he could go to the fight, huh?" the second male finished. "Lucky bastard."

"Alright," the male said as he pulled a lever. Immediately, the huge web-shaped double doors started to open. It was Dynaheir's time to shine. Throwing off her disguise, a brown sack hiding her female form, she released a trigger. Magic crackled through the air as the two males' magic resistance was lowered and were promptly put to sleep.

"They'll be out for a while," Dynaheir said. "Never knew what hit them and will wake up when we want them to."

"Excellent," Viconia said as she and Imoen dragged themselves out of two other sacks. "Keldorn, you must unload the cart to make sure we won't raise suspicious. Imoen and I will explore the temple..."

"... And steal stuff," Imoen grinned.

"I will be the look-out," Dynaheir said.

"Yes," Keldorn said. "Let us hope Laska's fight will buy us enough time."

Laska felt herself walking on air when she heard the massive crowd cry out her name and cheer as she arrived in the center of the arena. She was the public's favorite... and was more than a little pleased about that.

Towards her walked her opponent, a large Drow male, tall and muscular, dressed in a supple, yet artfully made chainmail. He carried a single sword in both hands and held it before his face.

"Greetings, worthy opponent," he spoke and the crowd fell silent. "I am Lasoanar, champion of the fighter's guild and Ust Natha. I greet you, my victim, who can naught but fall before my might." Then, he bowed slightly, ending the formal greeting.

Laska, in turn, grinned viciously and, to the overwhelming approval of the crowd, treated the baffled Lasoanar to a cheeky two-fingered salute.

Immediately, the battle began. Lasoanar roared as he folded his blade and trust toward Laska. The elf, however, anticipated his move and rolled away, drawing both her blades before she jumped to her feet.

The two circled each other for a moment. Laska's face was twisted into a vicious mix of a smile and a smirk, while Lasoanar was stoney-faced, his eyes only focused on the target. Her new blade already felt like an extension of Laska's arm. The dark blade was eager for blood.

It was Lasoanar that would make the first move. Immediately, Laska crossed her blades to catch Lasoanar's bastard sword, with the intention to push him back by sliding both her swords upwards... unfortunately, that never happened. All of a sudden, Laska felt as if her arms were on fire. The sudden shock almost caused her to drop both her swords and fall back to recover, but she pushed herself to endure the flame-effects and landed a solid blow of her fist against Lasoanar's jaw.

The male fell back and rubbed his jaw with his free hand, giving Laska the opportunity to recover. The pain quickly subsided, but Laska would have to adjust her strategy now that she knew Lasoanar had an enchanted fire-blade.

The temple of Lolth was an impressive structure, which seemed to be almost completely hewn from heavy obsidian stone, cut into what had been a massive stalactite hanging from the cavern roof. It was high, wide and meant to impress.

Columns stood meters high and there was not a single wall not covered with carvings depicting the glories of Lolth. The echo in the place was actually frightening and oppressive.

"What's that smell?" Imoen asked when the horrible mix of copper and early decay assaulted her nostrils.

"We must be close to the altar," Viconia said. "There must be sacrifices every day, especially in a time of war."

"Oh, sweet Sune, what's that?!" Imoen spoke when they walked around the corner and she regarded a small funnel filled with bodyparts.

"I think it's some sort of chute," Viconia said. "It looks like that, when it is full, the priestesses dump the bodyparts over the city to land in that large lava-lake at the edge of the city."

"But why?!"

"Takes care of the mess," Viconia said. "Plus, I think they suppose the sight of falling bodyparts will impress the people."

"You Drow are a weird people," Imoen said while putting a small piece of cloth over her nose and mouth to cover the foul smell.

"I never said the people actually were impressed."

"Let's just move on," Imoen coughed. "Where should we go?"

"All the temples of Lolth are somewhat similar," Viconia said as the two women moved on, following a narrow, yet high tunnel to the west. "The treasury is in the western part, that much is certain."

"Why is that?"

"The pit Corellon threw Lolth in, is on the western side of Arvandor, so..."

"All treasures lie in the west," Imoen nods. "Symbolism."

"Indeed," Viconia grinned as they passed a statue of two Drow females guarding a doorway leading to another chamber... though, if the statues alive, their attention would not be on the doorway.

"Oh, not THAT isn't anatomically possible," Imoen chuckled when she looked at the statues.

"Why not?" Viconia asked, seeming genuinely puzzled.

"Well, um, we, you, I, you know, I, um, looks kinda... bendy?"

"That's the door to the orgy chamber," Viconia said. "The statues in there are much more explicit."

"Are you sure the treasury isn't in the orgy chamber?" Imoen asked, becoming somewhat flushed.

"Quite sure."

"We could take a look inside."

"Not necessary."

"To be on the safe side?"

"Let's move on."

"Maybe the eggs are hidden in one of those explicit statues."

"You can buy small replica's on the market if you really want to see them."

"Um, okay," Imoen nodded. "But... VIC, LOOK OUT!"

"What?!" Viconia said.

"There's a spider on your back!"

Viconia looked and found a tarantula sitting on her shoulder. She flicked it off, but then turned to Imoen. "Imoen," Viconia said calmly as possible, "turn around."

Imoen replied, and Viconia saw that Imoen's back was literally covered with the same kind of tarantula she had just removed from her person. Nonchalantly, Viconia took her flail and removed the spiders by sliding her flail over her back. "Come on," Viconia said to a still trembling Imoen. "We don't have all day."

Then, as Imoen took one look at the floor, she cried out, took hold of Viconia's belt and yanked her towards her with all her might. Viconia swore like a drunken dock worker as the two rolled over the floor. A click could be heard and, only a few centimeters from where Viconia had been walking, a large trap-door fell open.

"Damn," Viconia said. "I must be getting careless."

"Uh-huh," Imoen panted happily as she tried to cope with the idea of Viconia lying on top of her, pressing her body into hers.

"Thank you," Viconia said.

"Kiss me," Imoen spoke before she could swallow the words.

"Don't be foolish," Viconia said and stood up, while Imoen remained prone in a somewhat dazzled mood. Viconia then moved to the edge of the trap. Looking down, she could see the city below... far below.

"Well," Viconia muttered while the trapdoor was closing as the trap reset itself. "We're definitely headed in the right direction, it seems. How are we going to get across?"

"Hmm," Imoen muttered, but she could only think of the statue they had encountered earlier.

"Left! Punch right! Oh, Laska, punch him right in the family collection of jewels! Ey, right Boo?" Minsc was but a tiny voice in the crowd as he cheered for his favorite.

"Ah, this brings back some good memories," Jan smiled as he sat back and proceeded to chat Korgan's ears off. "I remember my cousin Hogan Jansen in his glory days. He was a wrestler, you know? Ah, yes, the gnome who always ripped open his shirt before heading into the ring, everybody cheering and all that, you know how it goes. I remember his voice, the screams into the crowd. 'Gnomamania is running wild!'. Unfortunately, his audience was his own family and his opponents were giant turnips. When he entered a real wrestling ring, 'Gnomester Hogan' was completely flattened by the half-orc wrestling sensation 'The Stone'. It was all a matter of proportion, I'm afraid. Oh, well, with what was left out of his flattened pancake which my uncle Roddy made a dinner-table of... Yes, he always was tough, even in death."

"Will ye shut yer yap, ye daft pansy!" Korgan roared. "Ye be ruinin' the fight!"

"How exactly am I ruining the fight?" Jan asked. "I mean, if I went in there and bashed a metal rod against her knee, now that would be ruining the fight, but here I am just telling you about my family, which is..."

"BE QUIET!"

Blade clashed on blade as Laska and Lasoanar continued their dance of death in the arena under the watchful gaze of the crowd. So far, neither of them was making any serious impact. Laska did her best to avoid Lasoanar's magic blade, while he did the same to avoid her onslaught.

Laska twirled both blades wildly, leaving Lasoanar no opening for attack. But Laska was getting annoyed by Lasoanar's equally defensive posture and decided to press the issue. With the flat of her newly acquired acidic blade, she slapped against Lasoanar's blade. Again, again and again. With each stroke, both the intensity of her grin and the force of her blow increased. And that turned out to be her mistake.

At next blow, Lasoanar quickly and unexpectedly dipped his sword, causing Laska to miss. The momentum of her movement caused her to be unable to compensate, leaving her right side unprotected. Immediately, Lasoanar made use of Laska's mistake.

A shrill cry of pain resounded in the night as Lasoanar's fiery blade slashed along Laska's side, drawing blood and searing the inside of her arm. The intensity of the pain briefly paralyzed her, long enough for Lasoanar to punch her in the jaw and send her hurtling into the dirt of the arena floor. A booted foot then slammed into Laska's stomach, causing further pain. A, for her, deafening snap in her chest area let her know that one or more of her ribs had given way.

But before Lasoanar could land a second kick, Laska's hands lashed out, grabbed his ankle and twisted it savagely. Laska rolled away, grabbed her blades and got to her feet, doing her best to ignore the terrible pains. A cough resulted in the taste of blood in her mouth. She had trouble breathing, and realized that one of her broken ribs had possibly punctured her lung.

But she twirled her blades and set towards the fight once more.

"Wwaaaahhhhhh!!!" Imoen cried out as she clutched onto Viconia while the two of them swung over the trap and the depths below it. The two deftly landed on the other side of the pit.

"You can let go now," Viconia said as she rolled up the whip.

Imoen, however, didn't quite listen.

"Imoen, you're cutting off the bloodflow in my body," Viconia repeated.

"Sorry," Imoen finally let go.

"It's amazing what kind of crap you can find in Laska's Bag of Holding," Viconia added. "Loose boards, half a crashed cart, dirty socks... And all those empty bottles..."

Together, the two women walked through another corridor until they came to a large double door shaped like a spider's web. A quick investigation revealed no traps and the lock quickly fell to Imoen's master skills.

The treasury was a semi-circular room without windows or any source of light, but when Imoen lit a torch, the light reflecting off the mountains of gold laid to rest beside the walls was momentarily blinding. Coins, jewels, objects d'art, golden items, magical spells, magical weapons. Items gathered through tithe and thievery since the founding of Ust Natha, all for the taking. Imoen's fingers were literally itching.

"Put your eyes back in their sockets and remember why we're here, Imoen," Viconia said and pointed towards a statue of Lolth, a spider with the upper torso of naked Drow female in the very center of the room. Her face was contorted in a vicious grimace and arms stretched forward. On the platform she was holding was their target : the three dragon eggs.

Unfortunately, the eggs were flanked by four large clay golems standing guard right next to the statue.

"I just bet," Imoen said, "that if we lift off the eggs, the golems will pound us into red-colored toothpaste. And, I also just bet that..." Imoen said and tossed a coin onto one of the diamond patterns in the flood, causing several mini-bolts to be fired from the wall across to the other side of the room.

"I expected more from you Drow," Imoen winked and took the bag of holding firmly in hand. Inch by inch, foot by foot, Imoen balanced herself between diamond squares as she moved towards the statue of Lolth with due care. When she was within range, Imoen simply jumped towards the statue and turned towards Viconia again.

"Voila!" Imoen gilled. "Piece of cake!"

Then, Imoen took the fake eggs from the Bag of Holding and got into position. Imoen forced herself to calm down, even though she felt her heart beating in her chest. Imoen focused on the eggs lying on the pedestal in Lolth's eager hands. The trick was to replace the real eggs with the fake eggs, rolling off the real eggs precisely while rolling on the fake ones as to not trigger the trap mechanism.

Imoen felt beads of sweat running over her forehead when she prepared for the move. Viconia was similarly tensed as she too tasted the suspension in the air. Then, Imoen made her move. She deftly rolled the real eggs into the bag of holding while rolling the fake eggs on top of the pedestal. The trick had worked : the pedestal remained upright and did not move.

Immediately, Imoen turned around and smiled. "See? Piece of cake."

But while Imoen slowly walked back towards Viconia, the sound of stone grinding on stone made Imoen cuss softly, then running forward as quickly as she can when she heard the tell-tale splosh-sounds of clay golems coming to life. Ignoring the whooshing bolts, she sped towards Viconia, but then suddenly turned towards one of the mountains of gold and special items and started frantically scooping the precious things into the bag of holding.

"Come ON!" Viconia yelled.

"Coming!" Imoen yelled after letting some more gold fall into the bag before joining Viconia. When she arrived at the trap door, she found it open and Viconia standing on the other side.

"Throw me the whip!" Imoen yelled.

"First throw me the bag!" Viconia returned.

"But..."

"If you drop the bag over that trap-door, we're all dead! Give me the bag."

"Okay," Imoen said and threw the bag to Viconia, who deftly caught it. "Now throw me the whip!"

Viconia nodded and tossed the whip to Imoen. Hearing the heavy footsteps of the golems, Imoen wasted no time and whipped the beam above the pit, only barely making it. After Viconia pulled Imoen to safety by the belt, the four golems turned around the corner and stopped at the trapdoor.

"HAH!" Imoen giggled. "Can't get passed that, can you?"

The four golems remained silent, but slowly started to meld together into one massive swirl of clay. Finally, a shape started to form : that of a large round clay boulder.

"You had to open your mouth, didn't you?" Viconia hissed.

"RUN!!"

And so Imoen and Viconia ran, with the golem boulder in hot pursuit, through the halls and tunnels of the temple. The two ran as fast as their legs could carry them, back the way they came, and ever the rumbling of the boulder came closer and closer. Finally, Imoen and Viconia made a drive through the door leading into the courtyard where Keldorn and Dynaheir had just finished unloading the cart. With a crash, the boulder caught in the doorway.

"GO!" Viconia panted as she dragged the hyperventilating Imoen into the cart. "We've got them!"

Wasting no time, Keldorn pulled the reigns and the cart sped out of the front gates, passed the still sleeping guards.

Laska was in pain. Her vision was blurring and it was becoming harder and harder for her to breathe. To make matters worse, she kept coughing up blood ever so often. She had to admit Lasoanar had done her over quite well.

She parried another blow and this time managed to nick his arm. The two elves circled one another. So far, Laska had only done minor damage to Lasoanar, but she knew she was in bad shape. She remembered her elven mentor back in Candlekeep once telling her that the ability to keep up a fight came down to three simple rules : Can't fight if you can't see, can't fight if you can't breathe, can't fight if you're not alive. And right now, Laska had two down and was working fast towards the third.

She felt her breaths getting shorter and shorter. The strain on her body was immense as she pressed down the terrible fatigue caused by her injuries, but she knew she had to keep going. She drowned out the crowd and focused solely on Lasoanar, and her intense desire to wipe that smirk of his face. She knew she had to make a final push, and she had to make it damn fast, otherwise she'd become to weak to counter or block his attacks... which would be fatal.

Letting out a shrill cry, accompanied by blood from her lungs, she hammered her blades upon Lasoanar's. First the one, then the other. Again, again and again, every time letting out a shrill cry. Lasoanar, however, saw this as the weak move he had been waiting for. He sidestepped Laska and pushed her in the back, sending her into the ground. Laska cried in pain when she landed on her stomach, but as Lasoanar raised his blade to land his final blow in a triumphant last stab down, she took her opportunity.

As fast as she could move with her injured ribs, she rolled to her back and stabbed her vicious blade right into his gullet. The crowd cheered when they saw the stunned look on Lasoanar's face, which promptly made way for a look of pure agony as the acidic properties of the blade started to eat away at his internal organs.

With a powerful yank, Laska pulled the blade free by slashing it out of his body through his side, spilling blood, intestines and acid over the arena flood. Lasoanar clenched his teeth as he sank to his knees.

"I win," Laska grinned as she grabbed the sides of his head with both hands and savagely jerked it to one side. The sickening sound of his neck breaking sent the audience into a frenzy of cheers.

But Laska could no longer hear. The last thing she heard before passing out from pain and loss of blood was the hyperactive voice of the announcer, who declared her the winner of the entire tournament.

"Oh, yes, right there," Laska closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure as one of Sinvyl's pleasure-mistresses was rubbing some healing ointment on a particularly big bruise on her stomach. After the fight, Laska had been brought to a specially prepared chamber where her battered body lay on a silken bed of pillows. Two males were eagerly fanning her, while two scantily clan pleasure-mistresses were taking care of her injuries. Laska's body was covered with bruises, cuts and burns. Already, her elven regeneration was healing her skin, but her internal injuries required different attention.

Instead of healing spells, the two Drow females were eagerly applying magical ointment, as well as feeding her powerful magical healing fruits. At least she was able to breathe properly again, and her usual appetites had returned as a result. One of the Drow clenched a grape between her lips and Laska took it upon herself to claim it as her own by kissing her. The fight was over, the time to enjoy the spoils had come.

"Oy, lassie, ye be fightin' well!" Korgan replied as he, Jan and Minsc sat before the mountain of pillows Laska and the two females lay on.

"Better than Hogan Jansen. Did you know that..."

"NO! And I bloody want ta keep it that way, ye daft pansy!"

"Boo was very frightened for you, little Laska, but you kicked the butts of evil nonetheless and Minsc is happy!"

"Yes," Laska chuckled, "I kicked his ass. I hope he got a good look at my bruised face when I sent him straight to hell!" She grimaced when the other female rubbed magical ointment on the spot where the rib had penetrated her lung, but it passed quickly. The magic set the bones and healed the lung, even though she was still in pain.

Both double doors to the area flew open unexpectedly and in stormed Phaere. "BITCH!" Phaere shouted. "Lolth-be-damned BITCH!"

"Wha...?" Laska replied as she tried to sit up, but crashed back into bed when the pain shot through her body.

"Not you, precious," Phaere spoke softly for a moment. "We will celebrate your victory when you are recovered. But I meant my mother!"

"What did she do to set you off like that?"

"That bitch! She closed the entire city! Nobody is getting in or out without her permission!" Phaere snarled. "How DARE she!!"

Jan and Korgan shared a look. It seemed they were stuck here a while longer.