After being attacked by a group known only as “Section”, Aegon gathered a few of his allies based in Nashkel to help raid their base. After re-equipping for the journey ahead, the Troupe is set to rest one night in Nashkel before making the journey to Beregost to search for the base.
20 Eleasias 1368
It is the dead of night, so we make our way to the inn for some rest before our journey noth. As we do so, Breagar attempts a conversation with Imoen.

Breagar: Hrmph, Imoen?
Imoen: Why are you skulking around like that?
Breagar: Listen, girl. I appreciate your sympathy, I do. It’s just hard for me to show that at the moment, do you understand?
Imoen: Well, I don’t know…
Breagar: By Moradin’s beard, I’m trying to apologise here! Don’t make this more awkward than it already is!
Imoen giggles.
Imoen: But you look so funny! Of course I forgive you, Breagar. Under one condition.
Breagar: And that is?
Imoen: You talk normally to me again.
Breagar sighs.
Breagar: I will try.
Imoen: Yeah!
Gameplay Note
Breagar encountered another bug here where he kept trying to start the dialogue about losing his hand every 5 seconds. I figured out a dialogue timer must have hit, but because some globals were in the wrong state he was initiating the wrong dialogue that wouldn’t finish because the right characters weren’t around.
I managed to fix it using EE Keeper and changing the global variable ACSTORY
from 3 to 4. After doing this and loading the new save, the dialogue above triggered.
We head inside, and Kieria arranges some rooms for the night. Everyone turns in, but I find myself restless. I step out to stretch my legs and find Breagar alone by the fire, staring into the flames Sensing this might be a good time to talk, I go over to him.

Breagar: Hm?
I sit down quietly. Breagar doesn’t say anything, but he twitches a little. I sit with him in silence for a while before I talk.
Aegon: Something bothering you?
Breagar: Hm? No, I was just thinking about home.
…
I would like to tell you a story.
Aegon: Listening.
Breagar: Several years ago a dwarf-woman lived in the halls of Clan Bardormar, more beautiful and charming than words can describe. Her name was Audhild and she was the daughter of the Telormvar. The master smith, you would say.
A great many dwarves desired her for a wife, as she was not only beautiful, but also smart and strong. Her beard reached down to her navel, her shapely belly arched over her belt and her eyes sparkled like two emeralds.
Aegon: What happened then?
Breagar: Her father, Galthur, the grand smith of the Clan, had sworn an oath after the death of her mother. Only a true grand smith shall have his daughter’s hand. He had only one apprentice, who possessed talent in smithing as if he was blessed by Moradin himself. This is why the whole clan assumed he would one day take Audhild as a wife.
But Galthur was a busy man, so Audhild took care of the household after her mother’s death. One day, when she was running errands for her father, she entered the clan’s bakery. There she locked eyes with the baker’s journeyman. Even though his face was covered in a thick layer of flour, she noticed how quickly it turned a deep red. She also felt an inner heat, as if Berronar the goddess of love, had just planted the gift of love in her heart. Audhild had come to terms with one day marrying Reggik, but love had nothing to do with it.
Aegon: What happened then?
Breagar: For weeks, Audhild and the young baker met in secret. Finally the boy mustered enough courage to face his father, the master baker. He told him he wanted to exchange the baker’s apron for the smith’s anvil. His father exploded into a rage, yelling about how the boy would bring shame not just to him, but his entire clan, “Why don’t you just sleep on the anvil, if you love it so much” he yelled, before kicking out his own son. Since then, the two never spoke to each other.
Aegon: Isn’t being a smith an honourable profession?
Breagar: This must be hard to understand for a non-dwarf, but the baker’s clan… my clan, goes back to Gotrick Bardormar, the clans founder. Gotrick was a baker, thus baking is a sacred craft in clan Bardormar.
I am a direct descendant of our founder, so it would have been my duty to continue the sacred craft.
Out of love for Audhild I replaced the bakery with the anvil to become a master smith. That is why I travelled to the Sword Coast.
And now… I’m in the middle of the Iron Crisis and I managed to destroy the book of smithing.
Aegon: You are quite the romantic. Who would have thought.
Breagar: Hrmph. Apparently you don’t know that much about dwarves.
Aegon: Couldn’t you just return home?
Breagar: Of course I could return. In shame and disgrace, I could sneak through the gates. The dwarf who rejected his father’s craft and failed at another one! No, Aegon. I’d rather be eaten by a dragon, than go through that.
Aegon: But the most important thing is that you’re still alive, isn’t it?
Breagar: Pah. Everything is alive. Humans, dwarves, birds, kobolds, stones and some crazy elves even claim trees. No Aegon. Being alive is not the most important thing, but how you live is.
Aegon: So what’s next?
Breagar: I’m not thinking about that. I will stay with you for a while and then… we will see. Maybe there will be other opportunities to put my mark on Faerûn. If not with the smith’s hammer, then maybe with the axe.
Aegon: There will always be a place for you in this group.
Breagar: As long as I’m of use to you right? Come on, you don’t think I would expect you to just drag me along through the realms. I will not be a burden.
Aegon: We should sleep, Breagar. Things might look better tomorrow.
Breagar: As you wish, Aegon. Sleep well.
I had no idea of the burdens he’s been carrying. I’ve always seen Breagar as an angry yet skilled warrior and blacksmith. But he sees himself as a failure through and through. He’s angry at himself, and he’s letting that anger spill out on those around him. I think I’m beginning to understand him.
We rise the next morning, well rested. I Now that it is a new day, I am able to use the Weave to Identify some of the items that the Section leader had with him.
The gauntlets are a pair of Warrior Gloves that enchance the wearer’s combat prowess. They are perfect for Helga, improving her ability with sling and hammer alike.

Imoen takes a liking to the Woodland Armour that once belonged to a stealthy warrior known as Malenious Strider. It not only provides protection, but helps her hide in both woodland terrain and city streets.
The sword he used is a cutlass that is enchanted to release Sparks, much like the lightning from Bashrik’s Hammer. None of us are proficient with this type of blade, so we leave it in the Bag of Holding.

I also examine some of the magic arrows we’ve accumulated over time. Some of them are powerful arrows able to pierce through plate armour and cause serious damage. Imoen adds them to her quiver, grinning at thought of using them.

With our gear sorted out, we leave the Inn and Nashkel behind, travelling north along the Trade Way once again.
We reach Beregost late at night, and head to Helga’s house. It’s as good a place as any to start, given that Helga’s spent little of her time here recently. Everything seems normal until Helga notices that her bathtub is slightly out of place.

Gameplay Note
There is supposed to be an encounter here, but I’m guessing there is some conflict between the Helga NPC and the Dark Horizons mod. So I started the quest manually using a console command to move the party to the new area:CLUAConsole:MoveToArea("CM3370")
Beneath the bathtub we find some loose floorboards. They lift away easily, revealing a hidden staircase. Helga is shocked. How long have they been living beneath her home? We descend the stairs, and as we emerge from the darkness we find ourselves in an underground lair crawling with Section Operatives.

I act quickly, using my dream powers to instill a sense of Horror in their hearts. Many of them panic, trying to escape the confines of this small room.

One of them tries to save himself with a Potion of Healing, but Bashrik’s Hammer surges with lightning and drops him where he stands.

We are still under pressure, so I attempt to put them to Sleep. Only one of them succumbs to the magical slumber.

Imoen takes out the bravest of them with an Arrow of Ice.

The rest scatter and fall, one by one.

We are turning this place into a slaughterhouse.

Only the sleeping Operative remains.

He wakes and tries to fight back, keeping himself alive with Potions of Healing. But we outnumber him six to one. There is no contest.

The Operatives only have some very basic gear: chainmail, long swords and several Potions of Healing. We collect what we can into our Bag of Holding.
Searching the barrels, we are surprised to find an enchanted suit of chain mail. I wonder why one of the operatives wasn’t wearing it.

In another, I find a Scroll of Wraithform, a spell that renders me ethereal like a ghost. I copy it into my spellbook.

Another barrel yields more enchanted armour, this one leather. Imoen says she prefers this to her Woodland Armour, favouring protection over strength. We wait as she gets changed.

There are a couple of small corridors leading out of this room I pick one and take point running into two more Section Operatives.

Helga ends the first with a Fire Bullet from her sling.

The second puts up more of a fight, forcing us back up the corridor, but Helga downs him too. These Warrior Gloves are already proving their worth.

Skeezer says he is learning much watching experienced mages and warriors like myself and Helga. I don’t feel that experienced, but I will take the compliment.

Gameplay Note
All his saving throws get worse: Death and Spells by 1 point, Polymorph by 2 points, and Wand by 6 points. He gets 1 additional Level 1 Spell. He gains 2 Hit Points and 2 points of Lore.
After the battle, Breagar pulls me to one side.

Breagar: I have to thank you, Aegon. Since we had that talk, the road has become easier for me.
Aegon: I will always have an open ear for you.
Breagar: Hrmph. Don’t get all sentimental, Aegon. You are still just a foolish elf and nothing more.
I just wanted to say, I’d like to tell you more about my home sometime. Just ask me, whenever you want to hear more about it.
Aegon: I surely will, once we have some time.
Breagar: Don’t wait too long, Aegon. It’s the story of a dwarven clan, so there’s much to tell. I am ready when you are. Just ask me.
He’s starting to open up. That can only be a good think. He’s seemed less angry than usual this day. Not a single “Buzzurk!” out of him. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll find himself again. Only time will tell.