Life is a Bittersweet Candy (4) - A BG1 Tale

((Again, apologies for the delays. Unforseeable setbacks plague me. The good news is, action and emotion are laquered thickly once again! Well, action anyway. The fourth of many! Enjoy.))

“Hey! I told you to get out! I don’t like your type in here! Always stirrin’ up troubles!” The man, obviously Marl, glares at the party, Deleta especially, since he appears to be the leader. Aggravation flashes across the half-Elvin mage’s face. Troubles here, troubles there, troubles everywhere. Just why in all the hells couldn’t people sod off?

Calming the sudden bout of anger, he smirks, looking on to Marl. “Troubles? Bah, my ventures stir up more good than ill. Well, mostly, heheh…” Marl glares further. “Oh, you think you can just laugh at it, doncha?! It’s all your fault, your type! You drove him away and to his doom! Get out, curs.” Deleta furrows his eyebrows in annoyance, then dismisses it.

“Look, I’m not to be blamed for another’s action.” He responds coolly, eying Marl’s weapon, and his less-than-sober state. “Oh really?! ‘Tis your type that got his spirits all up! He was only a boy! Up and left for ‘adventure’, found him flayed not more’n a few week after! Why did he have to go?! …” Now kicks in the emotional flow of tear that alcohol seems to spur.

Marl still glares through his remorse and tears, swaying slightly and gritting teeth as his hand clasps around the hilt of his blade. Deleta steps back now, motioning for the others to do the same. “Hey, now, calm down… You know how it is… One finds their calling and sets out…” After responding, the man that had previously encouraged Marl, realizes blood might be shed in more than a little brawl if tempers continue. “He’s right Marl, the boy went on his own…”

The drunk then scowls, then sighs, shaking his head. “I should have seen it coming. He was getting all worked up… Anxious. Your type… Lured him away. I should have seen it… He took up arm to become an adventurer and died.” Deleta gives Marl a small look of pity, then, and replies. “Hey, I’m sorry if our meeting has caused you ill, come, I shall buy the rounds and we shall honor the lad in drink.”

He sniffs, then nods. “Yes… ‘Twould be fitting.” And thus they spend half an hour honoring, before they make respectful leave, heading to the ‘keep in the back to question the location of the Jovial Juggler. Receiving a vague notion once more, Deleta shrugs and opts to follow it, rounding the party and heading out the doors.

As they make their way through the small town, hunting for the inn, they cross a tan-clad man, whom waves them over. “’Ello there! Ye looks to be the adventuring sort, aye? Got a deal for you. My mistress is offerin’ three hundred gold coin for mercenaries to protect her for a bit.” Deleta smiles.

“Were always on the lookout for gold.” The man smiles. “Good! Meet me outside the Red Raven inn, to meet my mistress.” As he heads off, Deleta frowns. They aren’t going to be hunting down more taverns than need be, and so they opt to follow him straight off.

They are led around a corner to next to a set of stairs leading up to an inn. A rather large placard has an emblem of a red raven on the wall of the building they just went around. The tan-clad man’s mistress grins at their arrival, then looks to the contact.

“These are the mercenaries, Garrick? Did you offer them what I told you?” She asks, quickly responded by the tan-clad man. “Yes, three hundred, just as you said.” Deleta steps forward now, coughing softly to gain attention, looking on to Garrick’s mistress. She promptly introduces herself.

“Greetings mercenaries. I am Silke! Thespian extraordinare! Your task is simple, you must kill Feldepost’s thugs when they assault me. Then you will be paid. Be wary though, one is a mage who’s word can sway even the wisest of men.” Deleta nods, simple enough, and nothing that looks too dirty of work, so long as their really thugs.

But lo, what misfortunate rabble steps forward as ‘thugs’ moments later? Three brightly clothed merchants by the look. “Hello, Silke? Were here with the gems you ord-“ Silke gestures to them sharply. “There they are! Feldepost’s thugs! Strike them now!” The trio backs away a bit. “Thugs? What are you talking about? Were here with the-“ Again Silke cuts them off. “Strike them now! ATTACK!”

Worriedly looking between the two, Deleta shakes his head. “I cannot murder those obviously innocent!” Silke snarls, backing away herself slightly and raising her black stave. Magical energy starts to rise around her. “Bah! Then I shall take care of them myself. After I take care of /you/!” Deleta responds by hopping backwards quite a ways, ushering Khalid and Jaheira forward.

Imoen notches an arrow and aims at Silke as Deleta summons the magical energy about him necessary for a Magic Missile. Red orbs and shimmers of light erupt in a nimbus around him, glaring at their employer. Yet another that crosses them, yet another to die. Was this how he invisioned life as an adventurer?

Silke stands back from the stave, letting it hover and tremble under the midst of her evocations as her arms dart out and her finger sway frantically. An eerie green aura encompasses her, some sort of shielding or bless being cast and completed before anyone could lay a hit on her. Imoen fires from her short bow, the arrow whipping around to pierce Silke’s shoulder clean through, causing blood to ooze and matt her black clothing. Khalid comes in next, a long sword swipe cleaving nothing but air as Silke sidesteps nimbly, followed by a swing from Jaheira’s scimitar, which also hits air.

Deleta laughs coldly, softly, as his palms raise and he looses his pent up spell, firing a red missile dead on into Silke. This causes her to reel back, a small crater in her side sizzling of fried flesh and blood. Scowling, she glares at Deleta, and positioning herself in front of Khalid, evokes a far more devastating spell. Her fingers wriggle and electricity sparks along the length of her fingers, and in a sudden flash of brightness a lightening bolt spews forth.

With a gasp and holler of pain, it tears through Khalid, nearly killing him. “Better part of valor! Better part of valor!!!” He says in panic, fleeing to the side and away. The bolt then arcs forward in its path to Deleta, but with the distance to move and knowledge of the arcane, he has managed to sidestep the aim of the bolt afore it even left her hands.

Another bowshot comes from Imoen, missing and plugging a barrel besides Silke. Jaheira comes around and carves open a large portion of Silke’s lower arm and sleeve, glistening her blade with blood and ripping muscle flesh and tendon alike. Deleta twirls around with another wriggle of fingers and rise of red arcs. A shimmering sphere of pale white forms and barrels into Silke, the Chromatic Orb making her convulse and scream as her mind twist and rips asunder.

Silke falls then, twitching violently under the still present strain of the Chromatic Orb. Jaheira moves quickly to where Khalid has fled and heals him, whilst Deleta assures the three colored merchants that they won’t be harmed. He gains a potion in thanks, and then turns to Garrick, whom has approached him. “Well, ehm, seems I’m out of a job… You mind if I join your bunch for a while?” Deleta considers whilst breathing back stamina into his body, nearly exhausted from expending (to him) so much magic, then nods. “You’d be a welcome addition… Say, you wouldn’t have straight directions to the Jovial Juggler, would you?” Garrick nods, and leads them there.

((Again, apologies for the delays. Unforseeable setbacks plague me. The good news is, action and emotion are laquered thickly once again! Well, action anyway. The fourth of many! Enjoy.))

“Hey! I told you to get out! I don’t like your type in here! Always stirrin’ up troubles!” The man, obviously Marl, glares at the party, Deleta especially, since he appears to be the leader. Aggravation flashes across the half-Elvin mage’s face. Troubles here, troubles there, troubles everywhere. Just why in all the hells couldn’t people sod off?

Deleta sounds female to me.

Deleta laughs coldly, softly, as his palms raise and he looses his pent up spell, firing a red missile dead on into Silke. This causes her to reel back, a small crater in her side sizzling of fried flesh and blood. Scowling, she glares at Deleta, and positioning herself in front of Khalid, evokes a far more devastating spell. Her fingers wriggle and electricity sparks along the length of her fingers, and in a sudden flash of brightness a lightening bolt spews forth.

The first time you encounter that spell, and the meeting is not pleasant.

Hunter