I Hate Package Tours

Around a table in the Copper Coronet sat the most mismatched group in all of Faerun. The half-elven assassin Umlya, resident Bhaalspawn, troublemaker, Jacqueline-of-all-Trades, and guildmistress led the party. Among its number were Minsc, the Rasheman ranger with a miniature giant space hamster, a possessed sword, and a severe head wound; Haer’Dalis, the teifling bard and actor; Mazzy, the brave little halfling; and Korgan, the irritable dwarf with a passion for homicide. She put her head down on the table with a clunk. The various daggers at her waist swayed with the movement.

“I hate package tours,” she said through gritted teeth.

“Boo hates them too,” Minsc said sympathetically.

“I be ‘bout to wring that mouse’s neck!” Korgan said angrily.

"Korgan!" Mazzy said reprovingly.

“Boo is not a mouse. He is a hamster.”

“It be a mouse!”

“Hamster.”

“Mouse.”

“Hamster.”

“My raven, surely you have a valid reason for hating package tours?” Haer’Dalis questioned, interrupting Korgan and Minsc’s argument.

Umlya’s response came in the form of a full mug thrown across the room.

“Er . . . Boo would like to know why you threw Minsc’s mug to Yoshimo?”

“AAAHHH!” Yoshimo cried out in surprise as the foaming tankard flew by and smashed against the wall. He strode over to their table.

“Yoshimo is perfectly capable of buying his own ale,” the traitorous rogue said. “Though if my large friend wishes to donate . . .” He was interrupted by Umlya.

“ARE YOU CALLING ME FAT?” she shrieked. Mazzy jumped at the outburst.

“Calm, my friend. I was only talking about Minsc.”

Umlya sat heavily, slightly disappointed. Now she didn’t have an excuse to bash Yoshimo’s head in. But he was already leaving.

“Remember, if you have need of my services, or just want to hear some rumors, you know where to come.”

Yeah, Umlya thought sarcastically. I’ll come to you when Minsc says something unrelated to Boo, when Haer’Dalis stops referring to people as animals or plant life, when Korgan and Mazzy elope, and when Irenicus puts on a pink dress and asks me to marry him. Yeah, I’ll come to you then.

Out loud, she just growled. “I hate package tours,” she repeated, and again beat her head against the wooden surface. A familiar, but unwanted voice interrupted.

“My goddess, I glimpsed you from across the room and simply knew you were the one. I will die a most horribly painful death if you don’t return my feelings. I love your heavenly, golden hair, and your beautiful emerald eyes. I am lost in their depths.”

Umlya snorted. “Yeah, well you can die that horribly painful death, then. Preferably by my hand.”

“Goddess, I simply must ask if you wish to share my room. Perhaps you wish to know of your elven ancestry? I can show you the perfected art of . . .”

Umlya stood suddenly, knocking her chair over. Her eyes were blazing, and she had drawn two random daggers. “Are you threatening me?” She embedded the tip of a dagger in the flimsy table.

“Er, n-no, goddess,” the elf muttered.

Umlya threw her other dagger across the room in her anger. It flew past Yoshimo — two objects in one night, and one a weapon. The rogue was not angry, but amused. For the second time, he returned to their table.

“My friend, you may not like my company, but that is no reason to throw weapons at me,” Yoshimo said with a small smile. “Is there anything the great Yoshimo can do to earn your favor, or at least to prevent you from throwing things?”

Umlya felt a fairly evil smirk creep onto her face. “Yeah. Yoshimo, beat this fool up for me.” She gestured to Salvanas, and the rogue proceeded to drag the elf into a corner for a lesson in ‘Why You Should Never Enrage A Bhaalspawn.’

Umlya watched, then turned to her party in satisfaction. “I still hate package tours, but the day just became a whole lot better.”
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Notes: This was the first story I ever wrote in the BG fandom, though I never posted it on the Attic.