Aegon’s first raid of the Iron Throne’s mines in the Cloakwood failed, and many of his friends had to be resurrected. Having gathered a new party, he now returns to attempt another assault, and to find Vienxay’s former master so she can have her revenge.
18 Eleasias 1368
Since we are travelling through Nashkel again, I decide to see if Karaea has managed to contact the transmuter.
Karaea Harfurthock: Oh! It’s you! Is there anything you want?
Aegon: So, what about the transmuter?
Karaea Harfurthock: Well, I tracked down this crazy hermit and found out what kind of materials he needs. My knowledge of lore is fair enough, but I can’t always identify everything. I do know a thing or two about boots… and jams, though I don’t think jams are of much use in transmuting. So, can I help you with anything?
Aegon: Will anything I have do?
Karaea Harfurthock: Let’s see…
Looks like you have boots that provide decent protection. However, enough different pairs can be combined to make armoured boots that truly are the best.
That’s all, I think. There might be something else, but it’s beyond my lore to say if it’s really the case.
Aegon: Tell me about armoured boots.
Karaea Harfurthock: Putting together all three colours of Everyday Boots with the Boots of Avoidance will make a pair giving the wearer outstanding armour protection. They’re rather flashy, but who doesn’t like bright colours? Well, maybe not my brother, but anyway… the process requires bandfire opal, two days of labour and twenty-five thousand gold. Half now, half later.
Aegon: I though the talk was about fifteen thousand gold at most?
Karaea Harfurthock: Well, the best stuff costs more of course. Plus I need a share to stay in business, though my cut isn’t much.
Aegon: Another time, perhaps. For now, let’s talk about usual business.
Karaea Harfurthock: Here’s my wares, then! I hope you find something you like!
We take a look through her collection of shoes and jams, but we don’t have the gold for anything we like. We thank Karaea for her business and make our way out of town. It is the dead of night. We are making an early start for our journey this day.
After a few hours along the Trade Way we come to the place where we met Lord Foreshadow, a nobleman from Waterdeep. I mention to Imoen that he was on his way to Neverwinter and she suddenly gets excited.
Imoen: Can we go there someday? Huh, Aegon? It sounds like fun?
Aegon: Perhaps. We’ll have to see what fortune favours.
Imoen: Great! That means I’ll have ta start making plans for it!
Helga holds up her hand, indicating we should be quiet. I look ahead and see three humanoid shapes. One small, two large. Ogres! And their next meal appears to be a well dressed gnome. The gnome spots us and calls out.
David Jansen: Help me! Help-
Chop The Lady Ogre: Meat, shut up!
Cru The Lady Ogre: Moma, let’s kill meat now! And these ones, too…
The ogre points in our direction.
David Jansen: Why, it is a great consolation that I will not die alone, but in the company of these oafs. I guess I will be served as a side-dish, now. What a relief! It’s not that Jansens never ended up in the stomachs of various monsters, but they were all main courses… Aunt Marta will be tremendously proud of me, once she learns of this. You will carry a message to her, won’t you? Oh! How silly of me! If you will be the *main* course, you won’t be able to deliver a message. Oh, I know! Let me go, dear ogre-ladies, and I shall tell Aunt Marta about how I nearly made it as a side-dish. Bet she’d be proud. Aunt Marta is the sort of woman who’d be proud of anything.
I don’t think the gnome has paused once. He just rambles on as if his thoughts are just blurted out without any pause.
It reminds me of when Cousin Jan had just started smuggling monkeys and-
He pauses to take in a breath. This gives the ogres a chance to speak.
Chop The Lady Ogre: SHUT UP!
Cru The Lady Ogre: SHUT UP!
They’re obviously getting agitated at the gnome’s absurd stories. I think I have an idea…
Aegon: Please do, continue. This story is fascinating!
David Jansen: So, Jan Jansen had only smuggled his first party of monkeys from Chult to Athkatla, and Aunty Marta decided to hold a monkey-themed party because she was so proud of Jan. But one cannot hold a monkey-themed party without a monkey, right? So she let herself into the secret place where Jan kept the monkeys, and put them in the cart to drive to Jan’s home. Unfortunately, the guards happened along, and so Jan made it into prison for the very first time. Aunty Marta was very proud of it, too. Not every day your nephew is sent to prison for monkey-smuggling!
They say it was then, in prison, that my dear cousin Jan invented his Bruiser Mates; thinking of Aunt Marta, no doubt. And – Wheeeee!
The ogres annoyed and distracted, the gnome takes this opportunity to flee from the ogres without looking back. I’m actually impressed. The mad gnome is smarter than I gave him credit for. Unfortunately that means the giant, hungry ogres are staring at us instead.
Chop The Lady Ogre: Fast food is no good for ye anyway, Cru. These ones are bigger and less fatty. Chop-chop-chop!
Bashrik’s Hammer is already poised to strike when they finally turn their attention to us. Helga laughs as the fight starts. She’s always up for fighting giantkin.
I beat the younger ogre back, giving the others a better chance to strike a large target. Imoen strikes with a flame arrow, setting its clothes on fire. As she frantically puts out the flames, Will looses an arrow that pierce right through its skull.
The second ogre, the mother, lets out a harrowing scream as she raises her club. I can see the anger and pain in her eyes, as she connects the club with my shoulder. But she strikes wide, and I see an opening. Bashrik’s Hammer connects with her chin and lightning soars through her body.
Helga somehow manages to miss the enraged mother. She curses herself as she reloads. Before she can take another shot, White puts an arrow straight through her heart.
They were much easier to kill than I expected. We will not feast on them as they would us, but we still check their corpses for any valuables. Unfortunately all they have are a few coins and some makeshift clubs.
The sun rises as we continue north along the Trade Way. There are no bandits accosting us anymore, whether human or hobgoblin. But after a few hours we do get approached by a couple that seems to recognise me.
Tristan: Hey, Isolde, look who we have strolling up the path, it looks like Aegon.
Isolde: Yes this does look like Aegon judging by the description that was given to us. Hair and eye colour match as do the facial and physical features.
Tristan: This certainly does look like Aegon.
Isolde: Shall you strike first or shall I?
Tristan: Perhaps you should draw first blood and I’ll draw the last.
Isolde: Excellent idea my love! Now hold still, Aegon and let us sever your head from your body. We well need it as proof to get our reward.
I have no intention of standing still, and neither do the others. These assassins will both die this day.
The woman does indeed attempt to draw first blood, but she finds that hers is the only blood spilled. The man, a heavily armed warrior, charges at Will. He calls out for help so I run over to help him.
The female assassin switches to a throwing dagger. It misses me, landing in the road just ahead, before returning to her hand so she can throw it again.
I distract the male assassin and Will pulls himself to a safe distance, only to run into a group of gibberlings.
I ask the Weave to put the gibberlings to Sleep. All but one pass into unconsciousness. I leave Will to deal with it while I focus on the assassins.
Will is hurt so I abandon the assassins to help him. He drinks his Potion of Regeneration to keep himself alive.
As the gibberling gives chase to Will, White sends an arrow through the female assassins neck.
Her lover is enraged and lashes out at Helga. Though she tries to defende herself, the assassin’s blow slashes right into her and she finds herself unable to move. The assassin’s sword must be carrying some kind of enchantment or poison!
I call upon Corellon to heal Helga’s injuries. Will turns and swings his flail just as the gibberling reaches him again. The blow connects and the gibberling explodes into piles of flesh and bone.
The remaining assassin dodges and weaves, deflecting arrows with his shield. We can’t hit him, so Vienxay hits him with a Magic Missile.
I worry about his strength so I use the Weave to sap him of his strength.
He is less of a threat in his weakened state, and I am able to finish him off with another salvo of Magic Missiles. As he lets out his final gasp, the gibberlings wake up from their slumber.
With the assassins out of the way, the gibberlings are easy pickings. Any that don’t get taken down by an arrow meet the wrong end of Bashrik’s Hammer.
The last gibberling gets lucky and manages to latch onto me, tearing into me with its claws. White knocks it off me with a well placed arrow.
The fight is over, we can take a quick rest. I heal myself of the wounds the gibberling inflicted.
The Iron Throne is working hard to have me killed. Even if we don’t return to the Cloakwood, they will keep sending assassins after me. There is danger either way. Jondalar would always say that if you are hitting them, they’re not hitting you. So we shall go back to the Cloakwood. If we hit them hard, they may not be able to strike back.
We search the female assassin first. She’s wearing some jewellery, a gold necklace, a gold ring, and a ruby ring. I’ve never seen a ruby ring before. I wonder if these assassins were married?
We also find a bounty notice on her, likely from the Iron Throne. Except it’s signed “M.S.“, initials we don’t recognise. Perhaps someone higher up in the organisation? Perhaps the armoured figure who murdered my father?
She wears some enchanted studded leather armour, and carries two daggers. One of them is the dagger that kept returning to her hand, enchanted by a sorcerer known as Yarash. Will says he likes the feel of this dagger, and would prefer to use it over his crossbow. He returns his old weapon to the Bag of Holding and attaches the dagger to his belt.
Her lover was wearing some enchanted chain mail and an enchanted large shield. He also carried a warhammer, and the sword that paralyzed Helga. It is the tool of an assassin; an opponent is easier to kill if they cannot fight back.
He also wears a ring, this one of onyx. A married couple that carries out assassinations together. It would be romantic if you ignored the murdering.
The gibberlings carry a few gold coins. They often gather these as shiny trinkets, not really understanding their value.
After stripping the bodies and taking a moment to rest, we continue up the path. I recognise a building sunk into the swamp nearby. We are close to Beregost. Near the pond is a shirtless man doing push-ups; we decide to pay him a visit.
Left: Excuse me? It may sound rude, but this is my property. It looks abandoned, indeed – some would call it a ruin, I presume – but it’s still my house. If you’re a stalker, who likes to watch men doing push-ups, you should work more on hiding.
Tcheh
Aegon: I beg your pardon? How in the Nine Hells should I know that a ruin like this may actually belong to anyone? I think it’s more than insane to live in such a place.
Left: Fine. Eh, I prefer solitude, but you’re right.
Obvious as it is, rarely do I meet someone of your age on my door mat. I suppose I should ask you about your reason why you’re here, right? I’m afraid I’m more interested in taking a cold bath to clean off the dust and sweat, but…
Aegon: I’m on a quest to find a very specific man. Someone who killed someone… important to me. I want my revenge.
Left: Fair enough. I’m not going to check if what you’re saying is true or not. It’s not my business. I doubt I can help you. I live here. On my own. It was my choice. I would rather talk to some ponds, or work out, or prepare the Lavender Brew than deal with the problems of Faerûn.
Aegon: The Lavender Brew? Talk to Ponds? Who are you?
Left: Who am I? I’m a devious egoist: someone who would be more happy to stay in the wild than live among men and women in society.
I’m Left. But not like left by someone nor the opposite to right. My name is Left and I’m a witch.
Aegon: It’s very nice to meet you, Left.
Left: As I said, rarely do I have any visitors. That’s probably because there’s no one who would visit me. I’m a witch, someone who deals with mysteries, dreams and visions. I do not play games like hiding my real name.
Mysteries. Dreams. Visions? Could this be the man to help me understand my nightmares?
Left: Consider it a fact; just as the truth you’re not a fish, but a very specific elf.
Aegon: Uhm, indeed, I’m not a fish. I am a bit surprised at the circumstances. Rarely do I meet people of your kind – a young male witch who works out shirtless in front of a derelict house. Not to mention your peculiar name.
Left: I understand.
Hmm, I must admit most people would’ve run away already. You’re different. That makes you somehow… interesting. You know what? I don’t mind if you stay for a while. As I said, I need to take a bath; I’m tired after my push-ups.
I always do it on my own, call it my personal ritual. I usually swim without clothing; I celebrate my solitude.
You may stay here if you want. Perhaps we may talk again, if you visit me. But now – have a good one, Aegon.
Aegon: I don’t remember telling you my name!
Left: Really? Well, you look like Aegon. You don’t look like Bob or Cristabelle. Yes. You definitely look like Aegon.
He grins, then leaves for his bath. As he walks away, I can’t shake the feeling that my visit here won’t be my last. There’s something strange about him. Something more than eccentricity. And I missed the chance to ask him about my visions of death. About my dreams. No, my nightmares.
I have taken a few beatings in the fights I’ve had since I’ve left the Keep. But I’ve always had blessings from the Gods to keep me alive. Yet I know of no spell that can heal the torment these nightmares have given. That can cure my homesickness. That can bring father back. All I know is that until I stick a blade into my father’s killer, I cannot begin to heal my mind.
There’s no reason for us to stay here anymore. We return to the road and make our way to Beregost.
