Ember's Tale 57: The Iron Throne

Chapter 57: The Iron Throne

That evening, after they had all eaten supper together in the common room of the Elfsong, Imoen and Edwin moved to the quiet corner table where they usually sat and studied their spells before bedtime.

"Here," Edwin said, handing her a half dozen or so spell scrolls, "these shouldn't be beyond you."

"Thanks!" Imoen said, and started unrolling the scrolls. "Are these from that Red Wizard's house? Ember told me about him. I'd have loved to see you summon those orcs!"

"It was nothing," Edwin said irritably, and opened his spellbook.

"It sounded like it was, from the way she described him," Imoen said lightly as she leafed through her new scrolls. Hey, Mirror Image! "I'm just wondering what you were competing at. Gathering spells?"

"(Why me?)" Edwin muttered, resting his head in his hands. "It was not that kind of competitor."

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

"Come to think of it," Imoen continued, "Wasn't Minsc's witch - his first witch, I mean - competing with you too?"

"(Enough!)" Edwin slammed his spellbook shut. "What I am about to tell you, you must not tell anyone."

"All right," Imoen said.

"Not even Ember."

Imoen grinned. "All right."

"Last winter, there arose a rumor that a certain ...artifact (yes, that's it) might be found on the Sword Coast," Edwin murmured. "This became known to both Rashemen and Thay. Both nations desire the artifact, and neither nation wants the other to have it. (Or any other nation, for that matter.)"

"What kind of artifact is it? A sword, a wand, a spell that'll destroy the moon?" Imoen asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Edwin said. "It is not a weapon, it is... a matter of prestige. Many wizards have come here in search of the artifact."

"Witches, if they're from Rashemen," Imoen said.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. The point is, there are signs that point to its location, and those signs are most easily understood by those possessing magical ability and a vast intellect, which describes me perfectly. I am certain I will soon locate the artifact, and then I will reap my reward. There. Are you satisfied?"

Not a chance! "Could I help you find it?" Imoen asked.

"Share the glory of a matter of Thayvian pride? Out of the question!" Edwin huffed.

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was withholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

"You really want to know?"

"Yes. (Anything to change the subject.)"

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

Edwin raised his eyebrows.

"He'd snuck into the temple of Umberlee and drowned," Imoen said, "and we went in and asked that Tenya girl to give him back, and she had us carry him out ourselves and then we had to wait in the street while the other boy went and got his dad so that he could be resurrected. It was pretty awful, you know? We kill so many people, but we never really notice that they're dead, do we? Anyway, I sat with him and I couldn't stop looking at him and he looked so ...wrong and then I had to cover his face to stop looking at him. It was just horrible." She closed her eyes; the memory was still painful.

"(She's lost her mind.) Let me get this straight. You retrieved a dead boy, and someone's father resurrected him?"

"His father. He's a Tymoran priest. The father, that is."

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

---

The following morning was dreary, with cloudy skies and gusts of wind blowing down the streets, and everyone was glad for the carriage they'd hired to take them to the Iron Throne. As she stepped out of the carriage, Ember glanced up at the tower before them. The building had a dull grey sheen, almost as if it were made of iron itself. She pulled her new red cloak tighter around her.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

"Yep!" Imoen said, and twisted her face into a haughty expression. "Yes, we are ready. Come, minions!" Led by Imoen and Edwin, they strode up to the massive front doors of the Iron Throne.

"Welcome to the Iron Throne citadel," the guard at the door said. "Could you please state what business brings you here."

"We have business with your leaders," Imoen replied smoothly. "We've just come from Sembia and are quite weary, so if you would just step aside, we would be grateful."

"Even more? Strange... we've not been told about you," the guard said. Imoen gave him a withering glare. "But no matter, you may come in!" the guard continued hurriedly, and opened the doors for them.

"How are you doing that?" Ember whispered to Imoen as they walked through a set of double doors that led to the entrance hall.

"I'm mimicking Eddie," Imoen whispered back.

The interior of the building was astounding. The floors and walls were made from a blueish marble, and statues of white marble were placed along the walls and around the support pillars in the room. Strong beams of timber bound with iron crisscrossed the lofty ceiling. A number of guards, servants, messengers and lesser merchants were in the room, going about their business in the light from the many candles, which were placed on wrought iron candlesticks throughout the chamber.

While they were disguised as messengers, Imoen and Alora had learned quite a bit about the building. While the four lower floors mainly supported lesser functions of the organization, the offices of the local leaders, as well as the main meeting chambers, were all on the fifth floor. Rieltar, whom they knew to be linked to everything they'd come across so far, also had his offices there. All in all, it was clear that their best bet would be to gain access to the fifth floor, and it was equally clear that they might not be able to avoid a fight to get there.

They walked up flights of steps carved from the same exquisite blue marble as the rest of the interior. Every guard they met accepted their cover story and let them pass, just as Imoen had said they would; there were so many merchants arriving these days that nobody cared when yet another group showed up.

On the third floor, a large woman with straw blonde hair and angry red cheeks came towards them in a flurry of blue and golden garments. "At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance. The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help," she huffed.

"Ah, but what else can be expected from boobs and dimwits?" Edwin replied.

"Exactly!" The woman laughed. "You may call me Emissary Tar and direct me towards the staircase that leads upwards. I have some important business to conduct on the fifth floor."

"The fifth floor, you say?" Imoen asked. "We were heading that way ourselves. We could accompany you there, if you wish."

"Ah, thank you," the emissary said. "I swear, these merchants deliberately obscure the layout of their offices."

"This way," Imoen said, gesturing with one hand towards the stairs. The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

A short man with a self-important air stopped them on the fourth floor. "Mmn, hello. You must be the city negotiators... Lemme see on the list, here: Emissary... Emissary Tar? Right on time and a pleasure to meet you," he said in an oily voice. "My name is Destus Gurn, Assistant Chief Accountant-"

Emissary Tar raised a hand. "Please, I am here to negotiate a new treaty with Thaldorn, not to waste time with chitchat. If you would be so kind as to allow me to proceed upstairs to the negotations, I would be very grateful."

"Yes, true, very well then, Emissary Tar. Proceed upstairs and don't allow me to keep you here a moment longer. Great things are afoot and I am very proud to have met you on behalf of the Iron Throne and I hope, for everyone's sake, then, that the... negotiations... proceed swiftly, yes, thank you." The short man bowed once and scurried out of sight.

"Hm," Imoen said, and glanced at Ember. She nodded back; she, too, had noticed the strange inflection in Gurn's voice. It did not bode well.

"Ah, here it is," Emissary Tar said, and ascended a small spiraling staircase. Ember and Imoen quickly led the others up after her, and found her talking with a tall man dressed in the colours of the Iron Throne. Six armored men stood at the back of the room.

"What a pleasure to meet- who are these? Who dares intrude?" the tall man said as Ember's group appeared. For a split second, his eyes flashed silver.

Doppelganger! "Emissary, GET BACK!" Ember shouted just as the doppelganger lunged. Emissary Tar took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding the dagger in the doppelganger's hand. Kivan grabbed the emissary's sleeve and directed her towards the stairs, out of harm's way.

"Meddling flesssh!" the doppelganger cried.

"Now you've done it," one of the men said in a gruff voice. "Who do you think you are to interfere?"

"Someone who knows a doppelganger when she sees one," Ember replied calmly, shifting her grip on her staff as she spoke. Behind her, Imoen was quietly chanting a spell.

The man laughed. "You little fool, you have breached an inner circle. We are servants of Sarevok, selected by hand to protect his destiny. And you," the man said as he drew his sword, "are an insect."

"You, said another, raising a mace, "will be crushed!"

"His will be done!" cried a third, and began casting a spell.

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly. Soon, the world was a mass of moving bodies; Ember's friends, her enemies, the flock of wolves that Edwin had summoned and set upon the doppelganger. Spells filled the air, along with the crash of weapons and the cries of pain whenever someone was wounded.

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Dismay filled her, and she faltered, giving the mace wielder just the opening he needed to knock her down. She bit back a scream and rolled away from her foe just as Minsc brought his sword crashing down on him. Ember drew a deep breath, muttered a healing spell to restore her broken ribs, and got back up on her feet. For my friends, she told herself, and ran to Imoen's side to heal a nasty burn on the mage's arm.

By the time the fight was over, the humming had stopped. Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious. She staggered over to where Alora had set down the basket, pushed aside the writing supplies that were on top, gave Boo a light pat, and pulled out several healing potions. Most were given to Minsc, who had broken an arm and said he'd never fight without Boo again. The emissary was not to be seen, and had no doubt fled the building.

"Let's hurry and look for evidence," Ember said.

"Come, Boo!" Minsc cried, and they all headed for the side offices. Unfortunately, most of the rooms seemed to only be used for show purposes; they contained few documents of any kind other than the commendations on the walls. In the last room they found a pale man, cowering behind a desk of heavy oak.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked in a shrill voice. "Get out before I call the guards!"

"Thaldorn, I presume? Go ahead, so we can tell them what you tried to do to Emissary Tar!" Imoen said.

The man turned even paler. "I had nothing to do with it!" he shrieked.

"I suppose you had nothing to do with the mines either?" Ember asked.

"No! Nothing!"

"I believe him," Edwin said. "(He is too much of a coward to manage anything like that.)"

"Where is Rieltar?" Ember asked as Alora and Imoen began searching the room.

"He's away... important business meeting," Thaldorn stammered.

"Nothing here either!" Alora said, looking up from a large document chest in the corner. "Only wine in here, there is!"

"Where is this meeting?" Kivan asked.

"Candlekeep," Imoen said quietly, holding up a parchment she'd found in the desk drawer.

"Yes! He's gone to Candlekeep, and Brunos too! Now, will you please let me go?" Thaldorn pleaded.

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs with a bagful of scrolls from Thaldorn's office.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Oh, so you managed to get through the chapter!

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of personal advancement you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Ah. So Imoen is using her INT... on Edwin, of all people. He must be certainly regretting helping her develop her analytical skills now!

Don't beat me (:cowers:), but, I'm not sure why, the phrase "what kind of personal advancement" just... doesn't sound right? Not within your Imoen's phraseology? Perhaps "what you're hoping to find here", which does not mean the same thing, of course...

Unless you intended this to indicate character development: as Imoen is turning into a wizard, she's also developing a fancy for polysyllabic words? In which case:

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

Ah. So, she's starting to like long words, but not proper grammar.

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

Edwin is showing his non-good side, I see. That's... actually, I think it's a good thing, even if it makes me a bit angry at him. You've driven it clear here that he isn't only the sarcastic-commentator-but-mainly-an-OK-guy. And I like it.

Between this chapter and the previous one, you certainly are focusing on his development, too!

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. [...] Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

Great images of the party here...

On the third floor, a large woman with straw blonde hair and angry red cheeks came towards them in a flurry of blue and golden garments.

...but this one is even better...

The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

...and this one is simply priceless. (The description of the Iron Throne was wonderful, too, but the quotes would be longer than my comment.)

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly. Soon, the world was a mass of moving bodies; Ember's friends, her enemies, the flock of wolves that Edwin had summoned and set upon the doppelganger. Spells filled the air, along with the crash of weapons and the cries of pain whenever someone was wounded.

I remember that fight... One big mess, each time I played it. :sigh: So, your description of it seems to me... fairly accurate. Especially since you did include the most important parts, such as this:

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

and this:

Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious.

I like how succint and telling this summary is. (What happened to the last two men, by the way? Did they survive to tell Sarevok the tale... and got themselves killed in the process?)

Then, you include another precious Minsc gem, and then, this:

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

This casual casting of the spell really shows how much they have all increased in power. Great touch.

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Ah, Ember... It's a part of Hero's Journey, you see? The Hero must return to their home to find that s/he has outgrown it.


Overall... How to say it? I liked this chapter, but I liked it in two different ways. The initial conversation was great, because it focused on how Imoen and Edwin really are different people - and not the same person, only speaking with different words. It felt a bit like your short stories, where/when you focus more on the characters.

The second part was more plot-driven, I suppose, even if it did have Ember's internal monologue... It was fun, but a bit different fun. (And if it's not the most useless comment someone can possibly write, then I don't know what might be!) I mean - more fun fun, less intellectual-delight fun?

Thank you!

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of personal advancement you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Raven: "Mouth. Flapping. Excessively."

Harlequin:

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

Harlequin: "You know how it is. Same ol', same ol'... saved the world, had some pie. Saw a cute boy walking down the street, grabbed me a handful of sweet buns..."

Raven: "Ack."

Harlequin:

"Yep!" Imoen said, and twisted her face into a haughty expression. "Yes, we are ready. Come, minions!" Led by Imoen and Edwin, they strode up to the massive front doors of the Iron Throne.

Harlequin: (Snickers) "She has minions. Awesome. I need me some minions."

Raven: "Not happening. You're -my- minion."

Harlequin:

Raven: "All right... c'mere, evil minion." (Hugs her)

Harlequin:

The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help

CN: "Boobs are helpful. I like boobs."

JG: "Crazy Irish lesbians."

"His will be done!" cried a third, and began casting a spell.

Raven: "Lackeys."

Harlequin: (Snorts) "Please."

Raven: "Team, weapons free!"

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered

CN: "Well, I find -that- hard to believe. You look in the mirror so often."

JG: (Snickers) "Nice one, Colleen."

CN: "I try... and in this case, succeed."

Oh, so you managed to get through the chapter!

Yeah, eventually

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of personal advancement you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Ah. So Imoen is using her INT... on Edwin, of all people. He must be certainly regretting helping her develop her analytical skills now!

Don't beat me (:cowers:), but, I'm not sure why, the phrase "what kind of personal advancement" just... doesn't sound right? Not within your Imoen's phraseology? Perhaps "what you're hoping to find here", which does not mean the same thing, of course...

She was using the same words Edwin used to Ember. Maybe I should have put ' ' around it... Either way, it was meant to stand out, coming from her.

Unless you intended this to indicate character development: as Imoen is turning into a wizard, she's also developing a fancy for polysyllabic words? In which case:

She can use them when she chooses to, but her heart will always belong to thingies

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

Ah. So, she's starting to like long words, but not proper grammar.

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

Edwin is showing his non-good side, I see. That's... actually, I think it's a good thing, even if it makes me a bit angry at him. You've driven it clear here that he isn't only the sarcastic-commentator-but-mainly-an-OK-guy. And I like it.

Between this chapter and the previous one, you certainly are focusing on his development, too!

Thank you

Any changes to my Edwin's basic design of selfish, self centered Red Wizard are going to have to be fought long and hard for.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. [...] Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

Great images of the party here...

I was tempted to describe which weapons they brought with them (no bows) but decided the story didn't need it.

On the third floor, a large woman with straw blonde hair and angry red cheeks came towards them in a flurry of blue and golden garments.

...but this one is even better...

Glad you liked it!

The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

...and this one is simply priceless. (The description of the Iron Throne was wonderful, too, but the quotes would be longer than my comment.)

I can understand that, this chapter really wanted to be wordy! I spent an afternoon or two toying with the idea of just letting the chapter bloat as much as it wanted to and then splitting it into two chapters

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly. Soon, the world was a mass of moving bodies; Ember's friends, her enemies, the flock of wolves that Edwin had summoned and set upon the doppelganger. Spells filled the air, along with the crash of weapons and the cries of pain whenever someone was wounded.

I remember that fight... One big mess, each time I played it. :sigh: So, your description of it seems to me... fairly accurate. Especially since you did include the most important parts, such as this:

The first time I played it with Ember's party, I just let Imoen and Edwin start with a fireball each to soften things up, and used a lot of bows. Yesterday, I had the group play through the fight using only the stuff I'd let a group of merchants get in there with (slings and melee weapons, and no area fireballs) and they didn't seem to get beat up particularly more than with the fireballs.

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Just because she's embraced Nature and Balance and all that doesn't mean she's going to get off easily, you know!

Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious.

I like how succint and telling this summary is. (What happened to the last two men, by the way? Did they survive to tell Sarevok the tale... and got themselves killed in the process?)

Thank you I hate writing fight scenes, especially blow by blows. (And I was thinking about their fate last night and my idea is pretty much exactly the same as yours I let them live for now as a random act of nonbutchery.)

Then, you include another precious Minsc gem, and then, this:

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

This casual casting of the spell really shows how much they have all increased in power. Great touch.

It's hard to write spells in at times, especially when you can't win a fight outright and you can't let your enemies beat you outright. It stands to reason, though, that the more skilled enemies are better at countering magic and weapons, as is your own group.

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Ah, Ember... It's a part of Hero's Journey, you see? The Hero must return to their home to find that s/he has outgrown it.

Bah, don't remind me of that cliche

I took Ember's in game team to Candlekeep this morning before work while I was touching up this chapter, and for the first time since I first played this game in 2000 or so, I entered the priest's house (I tend to just go straight to the library) and found the cat killing doppelganger!

Overall... How to say it? I liked this chapter, but I liked it in two different ways. The initial conversation was great, because it focused on how Imoen and Edwin really are different people - and not the same person, only speaking with different words. It felt a bit like your short stories, where/when you focus more on the characters.

That part wrote itself over the course of an hour or so on Sunday. The rest took three evenings and one morning

I know what you mean about it being like my short stories (they also tend to write themselves) and I often wish I could get more bits like them into Ember's stuff, so I am happy you saw a similarity in this conversation

The second part was more plot-driven, I suppose, even if it did have Ember's internal monologue... It was fun, but a bit different fun. (And if it's not the most useless comment someone can possibly write, then I don't know what might be!) I mean - more fun fun, less intellectual-delight fun?

I understand, I think

Thank you!

No, thank you

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of personal advancement you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Raven: "Mouth. Flapping. Excessively."

Harlequin:

Imoen: Hey, I can do that, you know! Talk, I mean.

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

Harlequin: "You know how it is. Same ol', same ol'... saved the world, had some pie. Saw a cute boy walking down the street, grabbed me a handful of sweet buns..."

"Yep!" Imoen said, and twisted her face into a haughty expression. "Yes, we are ready. Come, minions!" Led by Imoen and Edwin, they strode up to the massive front doors of the Iron Throne.

Harlequin: (Snickers) "She has minions. Awesome. I need me some minions."

Raven: "Not happening. You're -my- minion."

Harlequin:

Raven: "All right... c'mere, evil minion." (Hugs her)

Harlequin:

Awww

Isn't Imoen-mimicking-Edwin's-manners perfect for having minions, though?

I spent an afternoon or two toying with the idea of just letting the chapter bloat as much as it wanted to and then splitting it into two chapters

I can certainly relate to this. The next chapters of both Pygmalion and Siblings just want to go on.

Thank you I hate writing fight scenes, especially blow by blows. (And I was thinking about their fate last night and my idea is pretty much exactly the same as yours I let them live for now as a random act of nonbutchery.)

Ah, what tender mercy. You've certainly done a good job of the fighting scenes in the past, though. Never would have guessed that you don't like it.

It's hard to write spells in at times, especially when you can't win a fight outright and you can't let your enemies beat you outright. It stands to reason, though, that the more skilled enemies are better at countering magic and weapons, as is your own group.

Ah. But that's why spells are great! They end the fight quickly, so that the story can move to the more interesting parts.

Nah. I understand what you mean. It's just that I hate paragraphs containing a lot of the words "struck", "dodged", "was cut". Equally reading them and writing them.

Ah, Ember... It's a part of Hero's Journey, you see? The Hero must return to their home to find that s/he has outgrown it.

Bah, don't remind me of that cliche

I took Ember's in game team to Candlekeep this morning before work while I was touching up this chapter, and for the first time since I first played this game in 2000 or so, I entered the priest's house (I tend to just go straight to the library) and found the cat killing doppelganger!

Now, that's a homecoming!

But, if anything, BG1 is the fulfillment of every single cliche of the Hero's Journey. Orphan? Check. Some guy who takes care of you and dies quickly? Check. Mysterious parentage? Check. Dark Night of the Soul? Triple check.

And it was (is, even) great for it.

I know what you mean about it being like my short stories (they also tend to write themselves) and I often wish I could get more bits like them into Ember's stuff, so I am happy you saw a similarity in this conversation

If you want to, by all means do. (At least as far as I'm concerned.)

I understand, I think

Phew! I'm glad for that small mercy.

"Thanks!" Imoen said, and started unrolling the scrolls. "Are these from that Red Wizard's house? Ember told me about him. I'd have loved to see you summon those orcs!"

Easy to be generous, Eddie, when you already have all those spells down in your spellbook.

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

The sacred shrine thing looks kinda credible though… he might be looking for some insanely powerful relic, after all.

"Last winter, there arose a rumor that a certain ...artifact (yes, that's it) might be found on the Sword Coast," Edwin murmured. "This became known to both Rashemen and Thay. Both nations desire the artifact, and neither nation wants the other to have it. (Or any other nation, for that matter.)"

I believe him!

"Don't be ridiculous," Edwin said. "It is not a weapon, it is... a matter of prestige. Many wizards have come here in search of the artifact."

Sounds like he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be looking for… which again, adds credibility to his story.

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was witholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

Hmm, I wonder how Imoen would cope as a pillow spy… pretty good, I suspect.

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

*dies from shock*

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

Or she’ll just be better at faking interest.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

That is some potion… it would put the cosmetics industry into complete ruin!

"Even more? Strange... we've not been told about you," the guard said. Imoen gave him a withering glare. "But no matter, you may come in!" the guard continued hurriedly, and opened the doors for them.

Imoen? Withering glare? This is all so… very confusing…

On the third floor, a large woman with straw blonde hair and angry red cheeks came towards them in a flurry of blue and golden garments. "At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance. The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help," she huffed.

I still can’t believe she said ‘boobs’.

"Yes, true, very well then, Emissary Tar. Proceed upstairs and don't allow me to keep you here a moment longer. Great things are afoot and I am very proud to have met you on behalf of the Iron Throne and I hope, for everyone's sake, then, that the... negotiations... proceed swiftly, yes, thank you." The short man bowed once and scurried out of sight.

I don’t think she will put up much opposition during those negotiations… though that body will be very difficult to hide afterwards…

Doppelganger! "Emissary, GET BACK!" Ember shouted just as the doppelganger lunged. Emissary Tar took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding the dagger in the doppelganger's hand. Kivan grabbed the emissary's sleeve and directed her towards the stairs, out of harm's way.

Darn it, you saved her! Bah…

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly. Soon, the world was a mass of moving bodies; Ember's friends, her enemies, the flock of wolves that Edwin had summoned and set upon the doppelganger. Spells filled the air, along with the crash of weapons and the cries of pain whenever someone was wounded.

Imoen used Haste? Good moment for it, if so.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked in a shrill voice. "Get out before I call the guards!"

And what do you think we just killed? Mwahaha!

"I believe him," Edwin said. "(He is too much of a coward to manage anything like that.)"

A very shrewd judge of character, isn’t our Eddie?

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

I’m a little surprised he doesn’t suggest killing him – after all, Thaldorn could very well contact his superiors somehow via magic.

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Afraid so… and you won’t like the state of your old home, either…

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

The horrors of companions with high INT. Go Immy, expose the shady reasons.

"Last winter, there arose a rumor that a certain ...artifact (yes, that's it) might be found on the Sword Coast," Edwin murmured. "This became known to both Rashemen and Thay. Both nations desire the artifact, and neither nation wants the other to have it. (Or any other nation, for that matter.)"

An artifact named Ember?

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

Those are some good disguises.

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Daddy dearest?

Good chapter. It will be intresting to see how they fare.

"Thanks!" Imoen said, and started unrolling the scrolls. "Are these from that Red Wizard's house? Ember told me about him. I'd have loved to see you summon those orcs!"

Easy to be generous, Eddie, when you already have all those spells down in your spellbook.

Edwin: She is, after all, merely a student.

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

The sacred shrine thing looks kinda credible though… he might be looking for some insanely powerful relic, after all.

Point taken.

"Don't be ridiculous," Edwin said. "It is not a weapon, it is... a matter of prestige. Many wizards have come here in search of the artifact."

Sounds like he doesn’t even know what he’s supposed to be looking for… which again, adds credibility to his story.

He did receive very vague instructions

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was witholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

Hmm, I wonder how Imoen would cope as a pillow spy… pretty good, I suspect.

Yours, maybe. Not this one; she's too innocent.

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

*dies from shock*

There, there, he's not really interested in knowing.

Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

That is some potion… it would put the cosmetics industry into complete ruin!

If it prettified as well, perhaps.

"Even more? Strange... we've not been told about you," the guard said. Imoen gave him a withering glare. "But no matter, you may come in!" the guard continued hurriedly, and opened the doors for them.

Imoen? Withering glare? This is all so… very confusing…

Just think of her as doing a parody of Edwin and laughing on the inside

Doppelganger! "Emissary, GET BACK!" Ember shouted just as the doppelganger lunged. Emissary Tar took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding the dagger in the doppelganger's hand. Kivan grabbed the emissary's sleeve and directed her towards the stairs, out of harm's way.

Darn it, you saved her! Bah…

Look, just because everyone else lets her loiter around alone doesn't mean she has to do it every single time!

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly. Soon, the world was a mass of moving bodies; Ember's friends, her enemies, the flock of wolves that Edwin had summoned and set upon the doppelganger. Spells filled the air, along with the crash of weapons and the cries of pain whenever someone was wounded.

Imoen used Haste? Good moment for it, if so.

Yep, haste. I've found it to be the one indispensable spell for that battle.

"I believe him," Edwin said. "(He is too much of a coward to manage anything like that.)"

A very shrewd judge of character, isn’t our Eddie?

Oh yes.

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

I’m a little surprised he doesn’t suggest killing him – after all, Thaldorn could very well contact his superiors somehow via magic.

What'd he tell them, that he spilled the beans to a couple random merchants? Besides, I think he'd have to write a good old fashioned letter, just like everyone else in the game.

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Afraid so… and you won’t like the state of your old home, either…

I never even knew (until yesterday) that there was a doppelganger in the priest's house!

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

The horrors of companions with high INT. Go Immy, expose the shady reasons.

Imoen: *smiles sweetly*

"Last winter, there arose a rumor that a certain ...artifact (yes, that's it) might be found on the Sword Coast," Edwin murmured. "This became known to both Rashemen and Thay. Both nations desire the artifact, and neither nation wants the other to have it. (Or any other nation, for that matter.)"

An artifact named Ember?

Perhaps

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

Those are some good disguises.

Thank you. I figured I couldn't let them go in with the looks they have on assorted bounty notices.

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Daddy dearest?

Yes. Bloodlust and all the good stuff.

Good chapter. It will be intresting to see how they fare.

Well, it's off to Candlekeep soon!

"Here," Edwin said, handing her a half dozen or so spell scrolls, "these shouldn't be beyond you."

And even if they are, it’s not as if I really like this inn anyway.

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

In this case, Edwin right now is a low-level minion and everyone gets to order him around. If he succeeds, he’ll be a mid-level minion and only some people will be able to order him around, while he’ll be able to order some other people abround.

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

Whatever you invent keep it simple. Simple is easier to keep track of and more plausible.

"All right," Imoen said.

"Not even Ember."

Yes, but Ember isn’t anyone. She’s my best friend

"Witches, if they're from Rashemen," Imoen said.

Rather missing the point here.

I do find it interesting that apparently nasty Thay is much more egalitarian in gender terms than supposedly nice Rashemen. And if people knew how the witches treated male spellcasters, they’d probably be shunned the way Red Wizards are.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. The point is, there are signs that point to its location, and those signs are most easily understood by those possessing magical ability and a vast intellect, which describes me perfectly. I am certain I will soon locate the artifact, and then I will reap my reward. There. Are you satisfied?"

And you complain that I ask dumb questions.

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was witholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

Withholding.

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

"You really want to know?"

No, but he’d like to change the subject and asking you about yourself is the easiest thing to try.

"He'd snuck into the temple of Umberlee and drowned," Imoen said, "and we went in and asked that Tenya girl to give him back, and she had us carry him out ourselves and then we had to wait in the street while the other boy went and got his dad so that he could be resurrected. It was pretty awful, you know? We kill so many people, but we never really notice that they're dead, do we? Anyway, I sat with him and I couldn't stop looking at him and he looked so ...wrong and then I had to cover his face to stop looking at him. It was just horrible." She closed her eyes; the memory was still painful.

The only thing I can imagine Edwin thinking about this is, “Why? Why go to all that trouble for someone you don’t know and who probably can’t reward you?”

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

Just have to hope she hasn’t picked up Jaheira’s attitude that resurrection is abominable.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

So they’re all Bearers of the Crimson Mantle.

Where’s a mad paladin when you need one.

"Yep!" Imoen said, and twisted her face into a haughty expression. "Yes, we are ready. Come, minions!" Led by Imoen and Edwin, they strode up to the massive front doors of the Iron Throne.

She’s going to enjoy this.

"How are you doing that?" Ember whispered to Imoen as they walked through a set of double doors that led to the entrance hall.

Well, you lift one foot up a little way off the floor, move it so that it’s a little way in front of where it was before, let it go back to the floor, then repeat with the other foot. Walking is really very easy with a little practice.

Oh, but you meant the withering stare. That’s genetic.

The interior of the building was astounding. The floors and walls were made from a blueish marble, and statues of white marble were placed along the walls and around the support pillars in the room. Strong beams of timber bound with iron crisscrossed the lofty ceiling. A number of guards, servants, messengers and lesser merchants were in the room, going about their business in the light from the many candles, which were placed on wrought iron candlesticks throughout the chamber.

Sounds rather flashy. Does it stay like that in the rooms where the real work is done, I wonder.

"Exactly!" The woman laughed. "You may call me Emissary Tar and direct me towards the staircase that leads upwards. I have some important business to conduct on the fifth floor."

That would be the one that’s right behind you. Honestly, in the game it was so annoying how she walked up and asked you where the staircase was as you were walking up it.

"This way," Imoen said, gesturing with one hand towards the stairs. The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

The image I have of her is the same one Reggie Perrin has of his mother-in-law. Which probably isn’t much help for someone who didn’t watch BBC television in the 1970s.

"Ah, here it is," Emissary Tar said, and ascended a small spiraling staircase. Ember and Imoen quickly led the others up after her, and found her talking with a tall man dressed in the colours of the Iron Throne. Six armored men stood at the back of the room.

At the sort of level you normally go after this lot, they’re really nasty.

The man laughed. "You little fool, you have breached an inner circle. We are servants of Sarevok, selected by hand to protect his destiny. And you," the man said as he drew his sword, "are an insect."

What sort of insect? Some have got really nasty stings.

"You, said another, raising a mace, "will be crushed!"

Well, yes, that’s what you’d do with a mace. I don’t find them very good for slicing myself.

"His will be done!" cried a third, and began casting a spell.

Less talk, more fight.

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly.

Try a little lower.

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Wait till it starts singing. Nothing more horrific has ever been known in the realms.

By the time the fight was over, the humming had stopped. Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious. She staggered over to where Alora had set down the basket, pushed aside the writing supplies that were on top, gave Boo a light pat, and pulled out several healing potions. Most were given to Minsc, who had broken an arm and said he'd never fight without Boo again. The emissary was not to be seen, and had no doubt fled the building.

Nice fight scene.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked in a shrill voice. "Get out before I call the guards!"

I think they already killed this floors guards.

The man turned even paler. "I had nothing to do with it!" he shrieked.

You knew it was going to happen, and didn’t warn her. That’s collusion in any legal system.

"I suppose you had nothing to do with the mines either?" Ember asked.

"No! Nothing! That's all Rieltar's idea! I swear!"

Again, if you know crimes are being committed and do nothing to prevent it you’re guilty for that.

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

You couldn’t hang on to him, could you? I’m going fishing next week.

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Yes. I’m fairly sure Joseph Campbell would have something to say about that.

That evening, after they had all eaten supper together in the common room of the Elfsong, Imoen and Edwin moved to the quiet corner table where they usually sat and studied their spells before bedtime.

"Here," Edwin said, handing her a half dozen or so spell scrolls, "these shouldn't be beyond you."

Typical Edwin's ™ generosity.

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

Hehe... Imoen has 17 Int, I believe? And Edwin with his manner of speech is not really the best liar in the world.

"(She's lost her mind.) Let me get this straight. You retrieved a dead boy, and someone's father resurrected him?"

"His father. He's a Tymoran priest. The father, that is."

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

He...actually has a point. I mean, their small adventure had a happy end and there is a saying in my country that everything is good if it has good end (yes, I know that as every maxim it is not absolutely correct). And it would take more compassionate soul to understand Imoen's distress.

"How are you doing that?" Ember whispered to Imoen as they walked through a set of double doors that led to the entrance hall.

"I'm mimicking Eddie," Imoen whispered back.

It seems that he is really useful as a tutor

"
"This way," Imoen said, gesturing with one hand towards the stairs. The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

It seems that she'll survive in your version.

"
The man laughed. "You little fool, you have breached an inner circle. We are servants of Sarevok, selected by hand to protect his destiny. And you," the man said as he drew his sword, "are an insect."

"You, said another, raising a mace, "will be crushed!"

"His will be done!" cried a third, and began casting a spell.

Sarevok assembled quite fanatic followers. His future priests or blackguards, I presume.

"
Dismay filled her, and she faltered, giving the mace wielder just the opening he needed to knock her down. She bit back a scream and rolled away from her foe just as Minsc brought his sword crashing down on him. Ember drew a deep breath, muttered a healing spell to restore her broken ribs, and got back up on her feet. For my friends, she told herself, and ran to Imoen's side to heal a nasty burn on the mage's arm.

Shouldn't she switch to spellcasting and missile weapons in that case?

"
Most were given to Minsc, who had broken an arm and said he'd never fight without Boo again.

I remember that in Unfinished Business (BG2 mod) his fighting capabilities greatly diminished indeed without Boo

"
"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Ember is going to face more than a few nasty surprises .

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

In this case, Edwin right now is a low-level minion and everyone gets to order him around. If he succeeds, he’ll be a mid-level minion and only some people will be able to order him around, while he’ll be able to order some other people abround.

Pretty much, yes.

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

Whatever you invent keep it simple. Simple is easier to keep track of and more plausible.

'It' being what, exactly?

"All right," Imoen said.

"Not even Ember."

Yes, but Ember isn’t anyone. She’s my best friend

Hence why he specified.

"Witches, if they're from Rashemen," Imoen said.

Rather missing the point here.

Nah. She's just teasing him.

I do find it interesting that apparently nasty Thay is much more egalitarian in gender terms than supposedly nice Rashemen. And if people knew how the witches treated male spellcasters, they’d probably be shunned the way Red Wizards are.

Let's just say I've never liked Dynaheir.

Edwin rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. The point is, there are signs that point to its location, and those signs are most easily understood by those possessing magical ability and a vast intellect, which describes me perfectly. I am certain I will soon locate the artifact, and then I will reap my reward. There. Are you satisfied?"

And you complain that I ask dumb questions.

He really would have been better off with just refusing to say anything, I think.

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was witholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

Withholding.

Ah, thanks.

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

"You really want to know?"

No, but he’d like to change the subject and asking you about yourself is the easiest thing to try.

He did say as much

"He'd snuck into the temple of Umberlee and drowned," Imoen said, "and we went in and asked that Tenya girl to give him back, and she had us carry him out ourselves and then we had to wait in the street while the other boy went and got his dad so that he could be resurrected. It was pretty awful, you know? We kill so many people, but we never really notice that they're dead, do we? Anyway, I sat with him and I couldn't stop looking at him and he looked so ...wrong and then I had to cover his face to stop looking at him. It was just horrible." She closed her eyes; the memory was still painful.

The only thing I can imagine Edwin thinking about this is, “Why? Why go to all that trouble for someone you don’t know and who probably can’t reward you?”

Pretty much, yes.

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

Just have to hope she hasn’t picked up Jaheira’s attitude that resurrection is abominable.

Hm, strange for someone who has Harper's Call to think like that.

And no, Ember has nothing against it (especially because I won't be resurrecting month old corpses with only a bone left).

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

So they’re all Bearers of the Crimson Mantle.

Except they're not goblins.

Where’s a mad paladin when you need one.

No Miko's in sight, sorry. But there should be one in a nearby tavern...

"Yep!" Imoen said, and twisted her face into a haughty expression. "Yes, we are ready. Come, minions!" Led by Imoen and Edwin, they strode up to the massive front doors of the Iron Throne.

She’s going to enjoy this.

Oh yes, she's having a blast

"How are you doing that?" Ember whispered to Imoen as they walked through a set of double doors that led to the entrance hall.

Well, you lift one foot up a little way off the floor, move it so that it’s a little way in front of where it was before, let it go back to the floor, then repeat with the other foot. Walking is really very easy with a little practice.

Oh, but you meant the withering stare. That’s genetic.

Somehow I suspect another kind of stare would be genetic.

The interior of the building was astounding. The floors and walls were made from a blueish marble, and statues of white marble were placed along the walls and around the support pillars in the room. Strong beams of timber bound with iron crisscrossed the lofty ceiling. A number of guards, servants, messengers and lesser merchants were in the room, going about their business in the light from the many candles, which were placed on wrought iron candlesticks throughout the chamber.

Sounds rather flashy. Does it stay like that in the rooms where the real work is done, I wonder.

A bit fewer statues in those, I suspect.

"Exactly!" The woman laughed. "You may call me Emissary Tar and direct me towards the staircase that leads upwards. I have some important business to conduct on the fifth floor."

That would be the one that’s right behind you. Honestly, in the game it was so annoying how she walked up and asked you where the staircase was as you were walking up it.

Hence why I made it two staircases

"Ah, here it is," Emissary Tar said, and ascended a small spiraling staircase. Ember and Imoen quickly led the others up after her, and found her talking with a tall man dressed in the colours of the Iron Throne. Six armored men stood at the back of the room.

At the sort of level you normally go after this lot, they’re really nasty.

Mine are levels 6-7 (8 for Alora, but I used SC keeper to give her exp comparable to what the others had when she joined).

The man laughed. "You little fool, you have breached an inner circle. We are servants of Sarevok, selected by hand to protect his destiny. And you," the man said as he drew his sword, "are an insect."

What sort of insect? Some have got really nasty stings.

Considering his fate, I'll leave it up to your imagination.

Then, Imoen finished casting, and time seemed to slow down to a crawl. With an almost ferocious energy, Ember ran after one of the spellcasters and rammed her staff into his belly.

Try a little lower.

Ember: it's harder to hit such a small target in a hurry.

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Wait till it starts singing. Nothing more horrific has ever been known in the realms.

Ember: I've already heard it

By the time the fight was over, the humming had stopped. Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious. She staggered over to where Alora had set down the basket, pushed aside the writing supplies that were on top, gave Boo a light pat, and pulled out several healing potions. Most were given to Minsc, who had broken an arm and said he'd never fight without Boo again. The emissary was not to be seen, and had no doubt fled the building.

Nice fight scene.

For not being much of a fight scene, you mean? (Thanks.)

"What are you doing here?" the man asked in a shrill voice. "Get out before I call the guards!"

I think they already killed this floors guards.

Nono, they were Sarevok's Acolytes™. The floor has no guards. Neither do the walls, or the ceiling.

"I suppose you had nothing to do with the mines either?" Ember asked.

"No! Nothing! That's all Rieltar's idea! I swear!"

Again, if you know crimes are being committed and do nothing to prevent it you’re guilty for that.

I think he's relying upon his excellent lawyers.
That, and right now he'd reveal anything to save his own hide.

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

You couldn’t hang on to him, could you? I’m going fishing next week.

What makes you think the fish would want him?

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Yes. I’m fairly sure Joseph Campbell would have something to say about that.

At least it's better than leaving ye olde home as a burning ruin the first time she leaves it.

"Here," Edwin said, handing her a half dozen or so spell scrolls, "these shouldn't be beyond you."

Typical Edwin's ™ generosity.

Yes, he's so kind.

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

Hehe... Imoen has 17 Int, I believe? And Edwin with his manner of speech is not really the best liar in the world.

At this point, she has 18 int, and she's always been wiser than him.

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

He...actually has a point. I mean, their small adventure had a happy end and there is a saying in my country that everything is good if it has good end (yes, I know that as every maxim it is not absolutely correct). And it would take more compassionate soul to understand Imoen's distress.

True, he makes perfect sense from his point of view, and now Imoen knows perfectly well who NOT to talk with when she's upset about something.

"How are you doing that?" Ember whispered to Imoen as they walked through a set of double doors that led to the entrance hall.

"I'm mimicking Eddie," Imoen whispered back.

It seems that he is really useful as a tutor

With his charming personality, he'd have been kicked out a long time ago if he wasn't

"
"This way," Imoen said, gesturing with one hand towards the stairs. The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

It seems that she'll survive in your version.

Yep. I didn't have the heart to send her up to die alone.

"
"His will be done!" cried a third, and began casting a spell.

Sarevok assembled quite fanatic followers. His future priests or blackguards, I presume.

His future dead minions, to be honest.

"
Dismay filled her, and she faltered, giving the mace wielder just the opening he needed to knock her down. She bit back a scream and rolled away from her foe just as Minsc brought his sword crashing down on him. Ember drew a deep breath, muttered a healing spell to restore her broken ribs, and got back up on her feet. For my friends, she told herself, and ran to Imoen's side to heal a nasty burn on the mage's arm.

Shouldn't she switch to spellcasting and missile weapons in that case?

Healing is spellcasting, and her aim with the sling still needs some improvement before she'll be comfortable with it.

"
Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

Ember is going to face more than a few nasty surprises .

Yeah

"Here," Edwin said, handing her a half dozen or so spell scrolls, "these shouldn't be beyond you."

That's almost complimentary for Edwin!

"It sounded like it was, from the way she described him," Imoen said lightly as she leafed through her new scrolls. Hey, Mirror Image! "I'm just wondering what you were competing at. Gathering spells?"

Subtle!

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

I see she's covered most of the well-used bases then

Edwin stared intently at his spellbook in a way that clearly showed he wasn't actually reading anything.

You're not fooling anyone there, Eddie

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was withholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

Nope... a little while longer though, and you'll wear him down a bit more

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

Changing the subject there, eh?

"Yes. (Anything to change the subject.)"

Teehee!

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

...

Well, that was... blunt!

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

He has a point, really... (hrm, perhaps I'm more neuitral than good...)

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

As long as daddy's not controlling her thoughts, then yep, she'll understand better than Eddie.

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

That was beautifully descriptive!

"Welcome to the Iron Throne citadel," the guard at the door said. "Could you please state what business brings you here."

You don't want to mess with the acting Immy

"I'm mimicking Eddie," Imoen whispered back.

The interior of the building was astounding. The floors and walls were made from a blueish marble, and statues of white marble were placed along the walls and around the support pillars in the room. Strong beams of timber bound with iron crisscrossed the lofty ceiling. A number of guards, servants, messengers and lesser merchants were in the room, going about their business in the light from the many candles, which were placed on wrought iron candlesticks throughout the chamber.

And yet more beautiful descriptions!

While they were disguised as messengers, Imoen and Alora had learned quite a bit about the building. While the four lower floors mainly supported lesser functions of the organization, the offices of the local leaders, as well as the main meeting chambers, were all on the fifth floor. Sarevok, whom they knew to be linked to everything they'd come across so far, also had his offices there. All in all, it was clear that their best bet would be to gain access to the fifth floor, and it was equally clear that they might not be able to avoid a fight to get there.

Not if Sarevok's Acolytes have taken up residence, no...

On the third floor, a large woman with straw blonde hair and angry red cheeks came towards them in a flurry of blue and golden garments. "At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance. The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help," she huffed.

You've made her so great!

"This way," Imoen said, gesturing with one hand towards the stairs. The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

and I haven't been able to get that particular line out of my head *at all*

Doppelganger! "Emissary, GET BACK!" Ember shouted just as the doppelganger lunged. Emissary Tar took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding the dagger in the doppelganger's hand. Kivan grabbed the emissary's sleeve and directed her towards the stairs, out of harm's way.

Ooooh, she's been saved!

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Uh oh

Dismay filled her, and she faltered, giving the mace wielder just the opening he needed to knock her down. She bit back a scream and rolled away from her foe just as Minsc brought his sword crashing down on him. Ember drew a deep breath, muttered a healing spell to restore her broken ribs, and got back up on her feet. For my friends, she told herself, and ran to Imoen's side to heal a nasty burn on the mage's arm.

Best to ignore it -- she should know she's not killing for the joy of killing but for the necessity.

By the time the fight was over, the humming had stopped. Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious. She staggered over to where Alora had set down the basket, pushed aside the writing supplies that were on top, gave Boo a light pat, and pulled out several healing potions. Most were given to Minsc, who had broken an arm and said he'd never fight without Boo again. The emissary was not to be seen, and had no doubt fled the building.

Probably wise.

"What are you doing here?" the man asked in a shrill voice. "Get out before I call the guards!"

Bit too late for that...

"Nothing here either!" Alora said, looking up from a large document chest in the corner. "Only wine in here, there is!"

Take it!

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

Hmm, to run and tell on you? Or are you planning on letting officials deal with him? (Assuming there's anyone not corrupted by Sarevok still in existence...)

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Because, my dear, that's how it always goes, it seems -- and it's a great chance to fill in on any backstory as you mingle with old friends!

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

It already has, I fear

"Here," Edwin said, handing her a half dozen or so spell scrolls, "these shouldn't be beyond you."

That's almost complimentary for Edwin!

Isn't it!

"It sounded like it was, from the way she described him," Imoen said lightly as she leafed through her new scrolls. Hey, Mirror Image! "I'm just wondering what you were competing at. Gathering spells?"

Subtle!

I don't think anyone but Immy could manage to wear him down like this

"I know," Imoen said, and looked straight at him. "I don't think you'd travel halfway across Faerun for something that trivial, especially when magic is so much easier to get where you come from, you know? And I don't think you're writing a travel book, unless it's about how horrible the Sword coast is, and I don't think you're here looking for some sacred shrine. So I really can't imagine what kind of 'personal advancement' you could get out of anything here, and that makes me curious."

I see she's covered most of the well-used bases then

But of course! Smart as a whip, my Imoen

"Fine, be that way," Imoen said. She was certain he was withholding something, but he wouldn't tell her anything more. Not tonight, anyway.

Nope... a little while longer though, and you'll wear him down a bit more

I'm still debating how much she'll manage to get out of him

"So, how was your day?" Edwin asked pointedly.

Changing the subject there, eh?

In a very obvious fashion, yes.

"Yes. (Anything to change the subject.)"

Teehee!

"Me and Alora rescued a dead boy."

...

Well, that was... blunt!

But it does sum it up pretty well, don't you think?

"I fail to see what was so horrible, then. (Other than the stupidity of sneaking into a temple of Umberlee.)"

He has a point, really... (hrm, perhaps I'm more neuitral than good...)

Of course he has a point, it's just that that wasn't what she was talking about.

Imoen glanced at Edwin. He looked so indifferent; maybe a little bored or confused, but that was all. "I'm feeling a bit tired," she said. "I think I'll go to bed early. Goodnight, Eddie." She gathered her spellbook and scrolls in her arms and went upstairs to look for Ember. At least she'll understand.

As long as daddy's not controlling her thoughts, then yep, she'll understand better than Eddie.

After all, Immy's done more than her fair share of listening to Ember

"Is everyone ready?" she asked, and glanced around at her companions. Imoen and Edwin, who were going to be the merchants from Sembia, wore matching formal robes of blue and purple. Imoen, who was wearing a charm made from the nymph's hair, looked like a queen with her darkened and pinned up hair. Minsc, Kivan and Alora all wore leather armor and long red cloaks, just like Ember; the four of them were to be Edwin and Imoen's staff. Alora carried a basket that seemingly only contained writing supplies, and Minsc's face was hidden deep within the cowl of his cloak. Ember hadn't dared rely upon a hood, and had taken a potion that morning which had turned her hair black and made her skin as dark as a Calimshite's. Her eyes were unchanged, but fortunately they were a dark enough green to not look out of place in her new complexion.

That was beautifully descriptive!

Thank you

"Welcome to the Iron Throne citadel," the guard at the door said. "Could you please state what business brings you here."

You don't want to mess with the acting Immy

I'd be afraid of her

"I'm mimicking Eddie," Imoen whispered back.

I wrote her disguise with Skie's portrait in mind.

The interior of the building was astounding. The floors and walls were made from a blueish marble, and statues of white marble were placed along the walls and around the support pillars in the room. Strong beams of timber bound with iron crisscrossed the lofty ceiling. A number of guards, servants, messengers and lesser merchants were in the room, going about their business in the light from the many candles, which were placed on wrought iron candlesticks throughout the chamber.

And yet more beautiful descriptions!

Again, thank you

While they were disguised as messengers, Imoen and Alora had learned quite a bit about the building. While the four lower floors mainly supported lesser functions of the organization, the offices of the local leaders, as well as the main meeting chambers, were all on the fifth floor. Sarevok, whom they knew to be linked to everything they'd come across so far, also had his offices there. All in all, it was clear that their best bet would be to gain access to the fifth floor, and it was equally clear that they might not be able to avoid a fight to get there.

Not if Sarevok's Acolytes have taken up residence, no...

They most certainly are there; I would have worked in a line about them being up there and all the guards being afraid of them, except I couldn't get it to read smoothly. But I see I left the wrong name in that paragraph; I meant to say Rieltar, not Sarevok

On the third floor, a large woman with straw blonde hair and angry red cheeks came towards them in a flurry of blue and golden garments. "At last, someone who looks like they could be of some assistance. The assorted boobs and dimwits around here have been of very little help," she huffed.

You've made her so great!

There's untapped potential in her

"This way," Imoen said, gesturing with one hand towards the stairs. The emissary strode ahead of them, gliding across the floor like a golden galleon with blue sails.

and I haven't been able to get that particular line out of my head *at all*

Heh, sorry

Doppelganger! "Emissary, GET BACK!" Ember shouted just as the doppelganger lunged. Emissary Tar took a step backwards, narrowly avoiding the dagger in the doppelganger's hand. Kivan grabbed the emissary's sleeve and directed her towards the stairs, out of harm's way.

Ooooh, she's been saved!

Hallelujah!

Something within Ember was humming gleefully.

Uh oh

She wasn't rid of it that easily, you know.

Dismay filled her, and she faltered, giving the mace wielder just the opening he needed to knock her down. She bit back a scream and rolled away from her foe just as Minsc brought his sword crashing down on him. Ember drew a deep breath, muttered a healing spell to restore her broken ribs, and got back up on her feet. For my friends, she told herself, and ran to Imoen's side to heal a nasty burn on the mage's arm.

Best to ignore it -- she should know she's not killing for the joy of killing but for the necessity.

She'll get the hang of it eventually.

By the time the fight was over, the humming had stopped. Ember looked around; the room was in shambles, all her friends were injured, the doppelganger and four of the men were dead, and the last two men were unconscious. She staggered over to where Alora had set down the basket, pushed aside the writing supplies that were on top, gave Boo a light pat, and pulled out several healing potions. Most were given to Minsc, who had broken an arm and said he'd never fight without Boo again. The emissary was not to be seen, and had no doubt fled the building.

Probably wise.

I experimented with keeping her around to intimidate Thaldorn, but it didn't quite work out.

"Nothing here either!" Alora said, looking up from a large document chest in the corner. "Only wine in here, there is!"

Take it!

Can you even imagine Alora drunk?

"(I've never seen such a complete lack of dignity,)" Edwin muttered, and cast a hold spell on Thaldorn. "Let us leave this worm."

Hmm, to run and tell on you? Or are you planning on letting officials deal with him? (Assuming there's anyone not corrupted by Sarevok still in existence...)

Officials, and who is he going to tell on? He's not worth killing or breaking laws for, so Edwin just kept him from immediately shouting for help.

Candlekeep? Why Candlekeep, of all places? Ember exchanged worried glances with Imoen as they left the fifth floor and made their way downstairs.

Because, my dear, that's how it always goes, it seems -- and it's a great chance to fill in on any backstory as you mingle with old friends!

But what backstory could there possibly be?

(I need a reason for there to be no letter or message for Imoen...)

Was this conspiracy about to spread to their old home?

It already has, I fear

I'm going to be slightly kind to her. She won't find the pre-arrest doppelgangers in her home

[quote]
Take it!
[/quote]
[/quote]

[quote]
Can you even imagine Alora drunk?
[/quote]

I have a brief drunken-Alora in one of my 'snippet' stories (about an evil halfling's party), who basically tries to keep up in the halfing drinking contest between Bree and Montaron, and ends up passing out, and then being sick... so I can *vaguely* imagine the effect it'd have on her if she *really* drank too much (to the point of feeling ill) -- but the even more hyper version of Alora in the stages of drunken tipsiness is quite frightening to consider, really!

And off they trot to Candlekeep...I don't care if it's cliched, I love that section of the game.

Oh yes - great chapter, as per usual. I think this must be one of my shortest comments ever. I loved the Edwin/Imoen exchange.

Thank you.

And off they trot to Candlekeep...I don't care if it's cliched, I love that section of the game.

Yeah, it's the part where things really start to hit the proverbial fan! I can still remember the first time I played, getting arrested for something I hadn't done and wondering if I'd screwed up somehow

Oh yes - great chapter, as per usual. I think this must be one of my shortest comments ever. I loved the Edwin/Imoen exchange.

They just wrote themselves.

Thank you.

No, thank you

*sigh* Finally figured out exactly what bothered me about the end of this; I'd forgotten about the two letters that actually were in those offices (and here I am, needing the stuff in them for the next chapter after claiming there was only wine there...).

The end has been altered accordingly, and while I was at it, I decided Thaldorn was a leetle too eager to tell on his co-leaders, and made him less blabbermouthed.