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About Blood 55: Later That Night


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#1 Guest_Rand Al'Tor_*

Posted 03 January 2009 - 03:07 AM

55: Later That Night

Minsc sped as fast as he could through the forest, back to the Friendly Arm. Despite his bulk, he moved with little sound, only the few footsteps in the mud marking his passing. Now and then he would stop to listen for any sounds that might sound over the steady downpour of rain.

And then, when he was getting close to the road, he seemed to hear something. Carefully, he sought the cover of the brush next to the road, spying on the source of the sound.

A horse was standing nervously by the side of the road, too tired to keep running, too afraid to sleep and confused about the state of his rider. An cloaked man was slumped over its neck. A blade stuck out of his back.

Minsc came out of the bushes slowly, making shushing noises at the horse, which whinnied uncertainly, but didn't flee. Finally, the huge ranger grabbed its bit and patted its nose. "There, there, Minsc won't hurt the pretty horse." He then quickly but gently removed the rider from the saddle, taking off the cloak and using it as a blanket.

The ranger felt the man's pulse and smiled, quickly ripping some of the elf's more dry clothes; With no effort, the blade was removed; and the first rush of blood stopped. Quickly, he applied something from a jar at his belt and then bandaged the wound as well as he could.

"Don't die, wounded elf-man, Minsc will save you!" Carefully, he laid the unconscious elf back on his horse, led it by its bit and ran along the road as fast as he could.

...

The two Harpers arrived at Beregost shortly after dusk, exhausted after travelling at their fastest through the terrible weather.. Except for the storm, their travel had been peaceful, with no bandits to challenge them. No living ones. They did encounter a small group of scruffy looking men that had been hung by the neck from a tree. The signs from their necks mentioned their crime and the symbol of the Flaming Fist.

In Beregost, it was obvious the two half-elves were still well-remembered, getting an equal share of suspicious, awed, hostile and grateful looks from the populace. Khalid nervously smiled at the various people, as Jaheira ignored it and went straight for The Jovial Juggler. Near the door stood two Flaming Fist stood at attention. As the druid and her husband approached they moved to stop her.

“We have occupied the Juggler for Fist operations, you’ll have to go to another inn.” The man spoke firmly.

“I’m not here to drink or sleep, I’m here to see whoever’s in charge here now, let me in.” Her reply was just as firm.

The soldier frowned. “Who are you then, I’ll ask if he’ll see you.”

Jaheira folded her arms. “We spoke to Officer Vai. And we have news about her.”

“News about Officer Vai?” A voice sounded from the door. It opened and a man in his late thirties with long blond hair looked sharply at her. “What news?”

Jaheira gave the third Fist a glare. “I am not in the habit of repeating myself. So unless you are in charge of the remaining Fist here, you will just have to wait until;;;”

“J... Jaheira, p... perhaps we shouldn’t...” Khalid warily eyed the blond Fist’s darkening face. But he too was interrupted.

“Angelo! Let them in.” sounded from the inside.

The blond man stiffened, but nodded, stepping aside and beckoning them in. At the table where Vai had sat now sat a middle-aged armoured man with short, grey hair and a ragged scar across his left cheek. He gave the two half-elves a curious look. “I hoped to talk to you. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Jaheira stepped to the front of the table. “I do not have the time for long stories. Suffice to say that we need you to gather your men and follow us. We’ll tell you the rest on the way.”

The room went silent. The man raised an eyebrow. Without any anger in his voice he spoke. “Angelo, could you introduce me to them please?”

The Fist grinned. “With pleasure sir.” He stood next to the man. “This is Commander Scar. Second in command of the Flaming Fist mercenaries, answering solely to Grand Duke Eltan.”

Jaheira kept her face carefully neutral “Ah.”

Scar gave a slight smile and put his hands over each other. “Don’t worry about it. Now, I believe you were going to tell me why I should send my men with you, not to mention news about officer Vai." As he spoke, his smile faded and his tone turned serious. "She should have returned already."

"I... I'm afraid she's d...dead, c...commander Scar." Khalid's voice was soft "W... we found her and t... the other Fist."

Scar's face didn't show a trace. "That is bad news. She was a good soldier. Bandits?"

Jaheira nodded "We believe so. The villagers that they pursued were also killed. Our... acquaintance was taken by them."

"That would be the 'Talek' I heard so much about, I presume?"

"Little of it good, I expect." the druid said wryly. "While it is true the boy has not acted appropriately, many accusations against him are..."

"Dear half-elf. I don't particularly care." The man interrupted her. "I didn't come here regarding bar-brawls run out of hand. I'm here to address the bandit problem. And I have an innkeeper saying that Talek is responsible for the torture and death of someone who was operating against them with a dark-skinned woman. A woman who is your companion."

"T...that was a ruse of o... our friend. T... Tranzig was a c... contact to the b... bandits and those responsible." Khalid hastily said. "T... Talek also t... tries to find the people responsible for the iron c... crisis."

Scar nodded. "That does make the puzzle fit. We captured an assassin with a bounty notice on Talek who was to contact Tranzig. I just wish we had our hands on Tranzig himself. Perhaps he could have told us where the bandits are."

"We know." Jaheira said. Scar eyes widened. "Larswood or Peldvale. Most likely Larswood, as that is where we found Officer Vai. We have a ranger companion tracking down their camp. We came here to ask your assistance in the matter."

Scar rose, a wolfish grin on his face. "Then you shall have it. Before dawn tomorrow, we move out."

"Tomorrow?" Jaheira started.

Scar raised an eyebrow. "The two of you are exhausted, and my men will need to be in full form when we finally take out those bandits. Don't worry, I want to take these bandits out as much as you do."

Jaheira started a protest, but fell silent as Khalid put a calming hand on her shoulder. "Patience was never a thing to come naturally to me when time is of the essence, but you are right. I just pray we won't be too late."

...

The festivities were in full swing, and Talek was right in the middle of them. The caravan hadn't carried iron, but wine and gold, which meant the loot was for the bandits, and they had a pretty good idea of what to do with it.

Talek had been one of the first to be drunk, as he had been crowned the 'hero of the day' and shared a drink with about every bandit and the Talons that had joined the party, revelling together in the details of the fight. After that, it was of course time to sing lewd songs, which Talek joined in, off-key, missing half the text and not having a clue what the thinly veiled innuendo in the other half meant. He made up for the lack in sheer volume.

Edwin had of course demanded his share of the spoils, and was loudly declaring his superiority over the other bandits, the guards, the Flaming Fist, Elminster and the other 'asstortrded simeensh' The bandits, equally drunk, cheered loudly. Viconia had taken a few of the more easily influenced and intoxicated bandits, one of the captives and a knife, and nobody had decided to go see what they were doing. Xzar was already out. He had gotten a bout of hysteria suddenly, and ended up drinking fervently until he lost consciousness.

Which left Montaron, who had a glass in his hand that had never been empty because he hadn't drunk any of it, and was looking at Talek with a seriously worried expression. Only when it was clear the conversation didn't enter risky territory, he allowed himself to relax, though he didn't drink anything.

"Not joining the party?"

Montaron stood, nodding in salute as Tenhammer, in full armour, looked down at him. "Not really, sir. Keeping an eye on things."

"Careful eh? Smart man." He sat down "Got most of the Talons keeping sober as well. Wouldn't want those Chill guys get any ideas." He sat down. "So, I was told about what you did during the ambush. Good work."

"Thanks, damn elves nearly got us killed. Hope ye don't mind the boy charged without permission." Montaron eyed the mercenary carefully.

"As long as he charges without permission at the right moments. So I hope you'll be able to keep a leash on him at the wrong ones."

The halfling nodded; "I managed to keep him from getting us all killed up till now, so as long as he's within shouting range..."

"Good. Anyway, you seem to be the man in charge of practical issues, so I came talking to you about this." He looked at the gathered bandits. "Your little group is more than your regular bunch of cutthroats that makes up this bunch. You guys working for someone together, or used to?"

Montaron's face didn't budge. "Nah, the boy's got some training as a guard, the nut wizard... who knows, the drow we picked up by the side of the road. I guess you can see the mage with the big mouth is from Thay, but he's with us. Looking to get an edge on his buddies back home probably. Me, the streets."

"Right. I've been talking to some of the other guys, and we all agree that after this job is done, if you guys don't screw up, we'd take you with us as full fledged Black Talons. Could do a lot worse in this line of work."

Montaron whistled. "Gotta thank those elves for the chance it seems. Sounds good."

Tenhammer nodded. "Thought so. I should probably tell you though, we're freelance, but we got a pretty good relation with the Zhents. They pay well, but you should make sure your buddies know not to mess with them. This Tazok guy should come by one of these days? Big ogre, likes his secrets. We don't mess with them. They pay us to deliver something, protect something or, like now, play bandit. We do as they tell us and don't ask questions. That's a relation I'd like to continue."

Montaron nodded. "Yeah, heard Zhents can be pretty vicious when it comes to getting back at people. I'll pass it to the others."

Tenhammer stood again. "Knew you were a smart sort. Make sure they also know they gotta stay away from the big tent there." He pointed. "That's his. The corpses hanging from the roof are people that thought they could sneak a peak. He's got his own guards in there, and they're bored and looking for action."

Montaron stood as well. "Keep away from the big tent or get killed in messy ways, check."

"Right. I'll go see to the rest of the guards. Never know what those Chill hobgobbers are planning." He moved away.

Montaron sat down again, eyes thoughtfully on the tent. "Lucky break that," he said to himself. "now let's just hope Beshaba didn't see that. Now, how do we get in that tent?"

"Hey Montarooon!" Came a rather slurry voice. "You're mishing the party, man!" Talek smiled down at him, standing unsteadily on his feet.

"The name's Deralon, ye drunken fool!" Montaron hissed. "Sit down, drink some water! I got news and ye need to be a little conscious!"

He handed the waterskin to Talek, who sat down heavily and started to gulp down water. "Okay, I'm listening."

"Tenhammer came talking to me. He's pretty happy with us. Offered to make us part of the Talon. More importantly, he told me about their employer, Tazok."

Talek paid close attention now. "Yes?"

"Apparently, Tazok claims to work for the Zhents, and Tenhammer seems to believe him. He sounded like someone who knows not to cross the Black Network."

The young man frowned in concentration. "That's good, right? Means we don't have to kill them all?"

Montaron was quiet for a second. "Exactly. So now, we've gotta find us some proof that Tazok ain't Zhent. Can't just come there empty handed. Now, see that big tent? We gotta get in there quietly. Which means you stay away from there. Tazok should pay us a visit soon. Now, he's an ogre, so probably not your dad's killer, but whatever the case, you keep quiet, got it?"

Talek nodded and yawned. "Got it. You know, I'm really glad we won't have to kill these guys. I like them."

"I figured as much. Maybe after this is over ye could stick with them. Ye'd get all the killing ye want, that's for sure. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, eh?"

Talek laid on his back, raindrops falling on his face. "Yeah. Never had anything like this. People all around me actually glad to see me. Feel like I'm... I dunno, like I am where I should be."

"No place like home, eh?" Montaron grinned.

"Home..." Talek said, eyes closing. "Home sounds good."

Montaron chuckled. "Maybe this mess'll be over in a few days and ye'll get to live the dream. Go to faraway places, meet interesting people, kill 'em all."

Talek was quiet.

"Telik?"

A soft snore.

"What? Oh come on! Don't fall asleep! You... Don't think I'm dragging ye to a tent!"

...

It was a little after midnight and the storm was just clearing up when Minsc finally arrived at the Friendly Arm, loudly bellowing to be let in. Dynaheir and Imoen had talked with the Mirrorshades, so it didn't take long for the gate to open. When it was revealed the ranger carried a heavily wounded elf, Gellanna Mirrorshade was quickly roused. She quickly healed the wound and let him rest on a bed in the inn.

Minsc spoke to Dynaheir and Imoen, describing the situation of the bandit camp. The wychlaran praised Minsc, then suggested everyone return to bed while waiting for the two Harpers to return with reinforcements. Imoen put the elf's possession's in his room, and suddenly paled when she found the shortsword that had wounded him. She carefully inspected it, biting her lip.

"Montaron. What... What happened?"

Suddenly there was a groan from the man. Imoen rushed at his bedside. "Hey, take it easy, you're safe n..."

Without warning, the elf suddenly jumped up, pressing Imoen against the wall and pressing a hand against her mouth, a slightly dazed but tense look on his face. "Where am I, who are you? And speak quietly." The voice was harsh and raw.

Imoen nodded, nod resisting after the initial panic, though she shook slightly. "You're... in the Friendly Arm. Our friend brought you here. I'm... Imoen."

"Friendly Arm?" He released his grip. Then the eyes became haunted again. "Deheriana... where is she? Did someone else come after me?" He seemed to almost plead.

Imoen slowly shook her head.

The elf sat down on his bed again. "I'll... I left her to die. I should have returend I..." For a few seconds it seemed as if he'd weep, then his face hardened. "I'll make them pay! By Shevarash, the black archer, I'll have my revenge." He spoke the words in elven, then fell silent.

Imoen stood there, not knowing what to say. "I'm... I'm sorry. Maybe she's been captured? We know where there camp is. Some other friends went to call the Flaming Fist."

He nodded, though he didn't seem cheered up. "I'm Kivan. Take me with you." he simply said. "I'll fight besides you, just let me find her killer."

Imoen looked at the sword, her face a bit pale. "Was it... a halfling that did this to you?"

The elf suddenly had his full attention on her. "Yes..." He said.

"And... two mages... and a drow?" Imoen said, shaking her head.

"Yes." Kivan said with an intense stare. "You know them?"

"Some of them." She sounded sick now. "Was there a young man, long black wavy hair, tall, muscled, probably armoured and good at swordfighting?"

Kivan stood. "That's him. He's the one! What's his name?"

"Talek." Imoen said, dazed, as if in a dream. "But... please... he's not...he's just pretending... he's just got something wrong with him. Don't..."

Kivan's face darkened as she spoke. "You know him?" The edge was obvious.

Imoen's eyes were moist with tears ."He's my childhood friend. I know he did things that are wrong, but please, don't..."

Her plea was interrupted when two slender elven hands wrapped around her throat. "If I kill you, will he hurt like I'm hurt?" Kivan's face was twisted in a snarl. Imoen made some choking sounds, uselessly trying to remove the stronger hands.

"You're innocent, but so was she. So... was she..." He faltered, the tightening of the grip stopping as Imoen's resistance started to weaken. Then, with a frustrated cry he tossed her aside and ran out of the room.

Imoen gasped for new breath, which came in deep sobs. When she recovered she returned to her bedroom, hearing a horse riding towards the inn's gates. She crawled into bed and his under the covers.


"Talek you.... what are you doing?"




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