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Jaheira and Khalid were experienced adventurers. And with them at the head of things, Savan and Imoen were able to slip past the horrors of the last few days and settled into a routine.

Each day the group would wake with the sun and break camp. They would eat a quick breakfast, usually some dried meat and fruit and nuts. Khalid would lead them in limbering up for the day, stating that it was important to keep yourself stretched and warmed up before a long day’s work. Bedrolls would be packed away, equipment distributed among the four of them, and they would venture forth into the world. Jaheira would lead the way, taking them off the road and through the lightly wooded areas. With bandits haunting the main road, she’d explained, it would be prudent to keep out of sight and out of mind.

“Especially with ones bold enough to attack armed travelers” she said, sharing a significant look with her husband.

“What makes them so brave?” Savan had wanted to know.

“Here.” Jaheira had pulled out a small patch, the sort that was sewn into clothing, and passed it to him. “After the hobgoblins attacked us, Khalid found this on one of them, hidden in his boot.

Savan peered at the patch closely while Imoen crowded close. There was a black mailed fist on a white background. Savan frowned and cocked his head, then raised it to his snout to sniff. The smell of hobgoblin came to him but nothing else. “What’s it mean?”

“It’s the insignia of a mercenary company. Called the Chill.” Jaheira frowned, concerned. “Made of goblins and their kind. Hobgoblins. Ogres. Respectable, as far as mercenaries go. They usually operate in the northern land, up in Amn and further. It’s very unusual to see them this far south.”

Always clever, Imoen caught the implication before Savan did, and oooh’ed with interest. “Which means that someone’s hiring them to COME south! And since the one guy was hiding his patch, then they don’t want anyone to KNOW that they’re south! Which meeeans…if they’re robbing people on the road, even heavily armed adventurers who can kick their butts, then they must be looking for something really valuable for whoever’s hiring them. Like the iron shipments that keep getting attacked!” Grinning Imoen smacked her fist into her palm dramatically!

Jaheira had smiled wryly at Imoen’s line of reasoning. “You have a dizzying wit, child. But don’t rush to conclusions. The man who held that patch could have been a deserter. Or taken it from someone else he’d killed. There are plenty of reasonable explanations for its presence.” She paused for a moment, then added “But it certainly is interesting, isn’t it?”

Savan had filed that note away for the future. The Chill. A mercenary band that normally operated to the north. If they spotted more of them down south, it could be worth investigating…of course, assuming this wasn’t some big coincidence.

Following the main road, it would only have taken the group two days to reach the town of Beregost, the next stop to the south of the Friendly Arm Inn, but with their off-road travels and taking care to stay out of sight it took them the better part of a week. Not that Savan was in any particular hurry after the recent rush…the quiet of the forests did him good. The exercise. The sun. The fresh air. As they hiked Jaheira would point out certain plants and note their qualities, whether beneficial or poisonous. She would show them animal tracks and how to tell if they were recent or old. And when they would stop for the night she would show them how to find a good place to sleep and how to pick wood for a fire, and how to put it out. There were a thousand little ways that one could survive in the wilds that the two young adventurers absorbed like a sponge, eager for learning.

In the evening, when the sun pushed hard for the horizon the group would find a spot to settle down in the forests. Perhaps in a tangle of close grown trees or among some hills. Some distance from the road where they could set up in piece, pitching tents, preparing a small cooking fire and ensuring that they had some privacy to themselves. And once a watch was set then Khalid would take Savan and work with him.

There would be posture training. Stance training. Endurance training. Khalid would have him stand there for long minutes at a time, holding out his assorted weapons. Sometimes in en garde position with a mace stretched out and an axe held back. Nudging at his legs, correcting how he stood, how he gripped the hilts of his weapons. While talking to him in serious tones abut the subject at hand. And Savan would always notice how the half elf’s stutter went away as he discussed his expertise.

“We don’t have the time and tools to give a thorough breakdown of every weapon, their purpose, their use in a fight” Khalid explained on the first night of this routine, “So we will focus on the basics. Endurance. Footwork. How to take advantage of your natural gifts.”

“My gifts?” Savan asked, working to stay as still as he could, with the weight of his weapon tugging down steadily on his arm muscles.

“Your gifts.” Khalid poked and prodded at him lightly with a long branch taken from their firewood pile. “Everyone has gifts! Size. Strength. Speed. Reach. Weight. It’s all about how to use them.” Another prod to adjust Savan’s posture. “At its center, a fight is about leveraging your abilities and bringing them to bear against your opponent who is trying to do the same thing. That’s really all there is to it.”

“Huh. That doesn’t sound very glamourous.”

Khalid smile sheepishly and shrugged. “It’s really not. No matter what the bards say, all fights are desperate, messy, and so fast there’s not enough time to think. That’s why we need to teach your body how to act without thinking.” He prodded Savan one more time and nodded, satisfied with his posture. “Alright. So lets begin then. Pull back your arm. Minimal motions. No wasted energy.”

Savan swung his mace around in a loop to about head height, holding it there.

“Good. Now hold it.”

And Savan would hold it. Hold the mace, or sometimes an axe, or one of the other weapons he had strapped on, and keep his posture for as long as he could. Even when his muscles strained and sweat beaded in his fur and his grip trembled, he would hold it. Then at Khalid’s direction he would pull back and swing again. Then again. And again. Reflex memory, Khalid called it. Savan didn’t know if it was working, if his body understood what to do before his mind did. But he did enjoy the workouts and he went to bed pleasantly exhausted every night.

Time passed, the party made progress, and Savan could almost come to forget the horrors that he’d been through. There had been no new dreams. No attacks by bandits or lurking assassins. Only the wide-open world. Which, at least in the company of good friends, was a beautiful place. In just a few days Savan saw more of nature than he’d seen in twenty years at Candlekeep. Trees, birds, rock formations, wild animals. He and Imoen were always pestering Jaheira and Khalid with questions about Savan blinked a couple ofthis plant, or that pond, or how to find one’s self when you were lost in the woods. Khalid always answered with good humour. Jaheira was more stern but tolerant, indulging the eager young scholars with valuable knowledge about poison oak, toxic mushrooms, moss and flowers that helped ease pain, and how to read the signs of animal passage. There was always something new to learn about the world that the novice travelers would absorb like sponges and then chatter to each other in the evening over dinner.

Of course, things couldn’t stay peaceful forever, and it was towards the end of the fifth day of travel that the peaceful routine was shattered.

It was a lovely day, not too warm out with some cloud fluttering across the sky. Imoen and Jaheira had gone to scout ahead a few hundred paces and Savan was walking with Khalid. Savan was adjusting his mask, working the straps around his large ears, while Khalid watched with some interest.

“Th-there’s only us ar-round here” he noted. “You c-could always take it off. Relax a little.”

Savan blinked a coupe of times. That…hadn’t occurred to him. As it was, the only time he took his father’s gift off was when he got ready for sleep.

“Do you think so?” He slid a finger under the band that wrapped around the back of his head. He barely even felt the weight anymore.

Khalid smiled and shrugged, glancing around them. “I d-don’t see anyone else around but us. And Jaheira and Im-imoen will be back any moment from scouting. I don’t think there’s any d-danger in it.”

Hmm… Savan considered that, lightly toying with the strap as he did. He mulled it over, considering the different angles. It was for his own safety. But on the other hand, did he want to hide his face for the rest of his life?

It was a pretty big question, and the brain between those fuzzy ears was certain to have come up with some interesting answers if he wasn’t interrupted in the next few seconds.

Footsteps crashed through the brush. A roar of something both angry and very large echoed through the trees and hills. And a moment later Imoen and Jaheira tore full tilt around a large crag, racing for their startled companions. And barely a dozen paces behind them came something large…ugly…and horribly familiar.

“Ogre!!!” Imoen yelled in alarm, arms flailing to keep a faster pace. “Ogre ogre ogre ogre!”

And yes, stomping after them, jaws bared in an angry roar and swinging a heavy tree branch like a club came a nine-foot tall, heavily muscled brute of an ogre. Tusks slavering, heavy booted feet making the earth shake with every step it took. Deceptively fast…moving slowly but each stride ate up the ground. And when it swung its makeshift club at the fleeing women the air whooshed violently from the sheer force of the blow. If it had struck either of them…

But it didn’t. Imoen raced passed Savan and Khalid and Jaheira whirled when she reached them, brandishing her quarterstaff. “Form a line!” she shouted. “Don’t let him get around you! We’ll try to…Savan! SAVAN!!!”

Jaheira was right to want to bring tactics into this fight. Savan would never argue with her about that. But…when he saw the ogre howling its war cry, charging through the trees and trying to murder his friends…his legs just started moving. Too fast for his thoughts to catch up with him, and by the time they had he was already jumping at the ogre before either of them knew what was going on, a wild cacking roar ripping from his lips.

The ogre saw him coming and its beady eyes narrowed. The muscles in its shoulders flexed and it reversed the swing of the tree branch, but what it had in sheer strength it lacked in speed and Savan closed with it. His axe struck the giant in the midriff drawing blood. Savan’s nostrils flared at the scent. And then he was past the behemoth, spinning on his heels to attack its back, axe biting into flesh again and again. Not even really thinking. Just…wanting it dead. NEEDING it dead.

The blood singing strong inside of him. And for the first time he could almost sing along.

But what the ogre lacked in speed, it made up for in toughness. Savan’s hand axe bit painfully into flesh but the beastie’s tough hide resisted serious injury. It planted one heavy foot and kicked out backwards with the other, catching Savan in the chest.

Imoen was stringing her bow, trying not to fumble it when Savan got absolutely pasted. Kicked in the chest, staggering back with a grimace plastered across his face. Then another swing of that tree branch, and he went flying back out of view with a sickening crunch. Her eyes went wide, her hands trembled and…she froze. Just for a second or two. But it was there. Her best friend got struck down and she couldn’t move.

And then it was over. Khalid was charging the ogre shield first, throwing his armoured weight against the big brute. Jaheira was calling up plants to wrap around its arms and legs. And Imoen frantically started loading arrows and firing them off at the ogre. The string slapped steadily against her forearm as the fight went on and she fired shot after shot until the monster’s chest looked like a pin cushion! Khalid dealt it a series of slash wounds while he circled it, shield up and covering him from counter attacks. And when the ogre began tearing the vines from its arms and legs, Jaheira drew her quarterstaff and advanced upon it, taking the flank that her husband had exposed.

With the two veteran adventurers working in co-ordination they beat the ogre back, dealing a series of wounds across its legs and midriff that seemed only to enrage it more. Roaring spittle, it hurled its branch like a makeshift spear and the tip caught Khalid’s shield off center. He protected himself from harm but the sheer force of the blow sent him spinning off balance and before he could recover the ogre struck him with the back of a hand. Then it turned and charged for Jaheira, arms outstretched.

The druid held her ground, staff held before her and a scowl on her face. It could have been dire if Imoen’s next arrow hadn’t struck home, planting firmly into one beady eye! The ogre reared back, yowling in sudden pain! Clawing at its face, trying to bat the arrow away. And Jaheira stepped in, striking sharply at one knee, and then the other. Knocking away its balance and making the earth shake as the titan collapsed to its knees before her. Rearing up, blood leaking from the side of its face, it glared with one eye at the druid before it. Jaheira narrowed her eyes and brandished her staff like a spear.

Then something exploded against the back of the ogre’s head. Bits of metal and wood and drops of blood flew through the air and the ogre blinked a couple times in surprise. And then slowly, it toppled over and crashed to the ground.

Stepping out of its path, Jaheira peered at the back of its skull and the ruined hand axe buried in place. And standing behind it about twenty feet off was Savan. Panting and huffing, shoulders tense, twitching. The mask that hid his face unable to hide the twitches in his cheeks. Or the golden gleam in his eyes.

After a second of watching the body of the ogre flop out on the ground, he lifted his head to peer at Jaheira. “…I’m sorry” he panted. “I shouldn’t have…run in there.” Then his eyes rolled back in his skull and he toppled over in a heap, insensate to the world.

///////

After the incident with the ogre, they couldn’t very well loiter in the woods. Savan had cracked three ribs when he’d been struck full force. Healing magic was a wonderful thing but to keep them from haling crooked, they needed to be set properly before any magic was applied.

“Personally I’m amazed that you’re conscious right now” Jaheira had said while explaining this to Savan, eyeing the ugly patterns of bruises over his skin. “I’d have thought that your whole rib cage would have shattered under a blow like that! You’re lucky to be alive.”

Savan had made some noncommittal sounds and stayed put while Jaheira had bandaged him up as best as she could. And once he’d confirmed that he could walk they marched off towards the road, Khalid taking point and Imoen sticking to his side.

It was about half a day’s trek to Beregost from where they emerged onto the roadway. Not a long trip but when you had damaged ribs and every step you took sent jolts of pain up your legs and through your chest, it was a lifetime. Before long Savan was biting his lip to keep from huffing and gasping and he was fighting to keep up. Imoen insistently draped his arm over his shoulders and did her best to support his weight…and so by the end of the day both were sweaty with exertion, clinging to each other for support.

Though when Beregost came in sight they both forgot their exhaustion.

As a large town, there wasn’t much to distinguish Beregost from dozens of others like it along the Sword Coast. Fields on the outskirts where farmers and their workers grew grains and corn, raising pigs and chickens and the occasional cow. The town proper was a series of residences and shops, clustered around a few central businesses. There were shouts and laughter on the air, chimneys sending grey smoke into the sky, the sound of the town blacksmith pounding away on his anvil. It was all very typical of the average town. Except that it was bigger, busier, more bustling and exotic than any place that the young adventurers had seen in their too short lives!

Khalid found their excitement amusing and he smiled indulgently as Imoen pointed and gasped at all manner of mundane sights, with Savan peering after them with less energy but just as much interest. It was up to Jaheira then to make sure that they got where they were going. Thankfully, as a druid she was used to herding and wrangling animals, and awe-struck children were more or less the same thing.

“We make for the Red Sheaf inn” she explained. “It’s a bit rowdy but it’s also affordable, and sees enough traffic that we’ll blend right in.”

“Ooh, will we see a real live bar fight?” Imoen asked eagerly.

“I think I could skip one.” Savan grimaced and rubbed his bandaged ribs.

Jaheira shook her head and sighed while Khalid grinned. “You two will march right into your room. I will join you to make sure those ribs are properly set before healing them. No bar fights for either of you.”

“I’ll make sure t-two check out the l-lay of the l-land” Khalid added. “See what news there is. Maybe there was a b-bounty on that ogre. It sure had enough belts for one.”

“Oh, can I come along? Pleeease?” Imoen was practically bouncing as they walked, vibrating with eagerness. Though she paused for a moment and looked guiltily to Savan. “If you think you’ll be alright?”

Even in his pain, the big gnoll couldn’t help but grin. “I’m hurt, Imoen. Not dead. I’ll let Jaheira look me over and sleep it off. By the morning, I’ll be just fine.”

Jaheira gave him an appraising look with one brown eyebrow raised. He ahem’ed and looked away, watching a farmer herd some cows down the road.

Imoen didn’t need much more convincing after that, and Khalid was pleased to have the company. And so they split up for a while. Khalid and Imoen heading to the center of town to see what information could be found. And Jaheira took Savan to the Red Sheaf, an inn on the outskirts of Beregost. “In here” she declared, herding him inside and around a cluster of farmer who were finished their toil for the day.

Like the Friendly Arms, the Red Sheaf saw a lot of foot traffic. The clientele was rather scruffier. No wizards or well to do travellers or mysterious strangers in fancy cloaks or well-armed adventurers waiting to take in young refugees, just farmers, labourers and assorted tradesmen who’d come in for an evening pint. Savan nonetheless peered about curiously while Jaheira paid for a couple of rooms and some food, then herded him off, out of the commons and behind closed doors.

“Alright.” Jaheira planted her hands on her hips and fixed Savan with a stern look. “Off with your shirt. Let us see how you are doing. Don’t think I didn’t see how you were staggering during that last leg.”

“Yes ma’am.” Savan reached up and took off his mask, shaking his head and fluffing up his mane once he’d set it to the side, then began to unbutton his tunic. With the bandages in view, the druid set to work poking and prodding him and cutting away the cloth to examine what was underneath.

There was something almost…intimidating about Jaheira. That wasn’t quite the word that he was looking for…she was very no nonsense, and direct. And unlike a lot of people Savan knew she never displayed any concern over him. That he would snap or bite or go mad and kill people. Like now. She trusted him to hold still while she poked and prodded at him, examining his bruises even if they stung him still.

Intimidating…no, that really didn’t sound right, he mused to himself while he wiggled in place. Though he supposed that she could be that way if she tried! She’d not even flinched in that fight with the ogre! While she examining him he tried to imagine how she would have reacted to the Armoured Man and his monsters. Being brave like her…that would be a thing, alright.

As she examined him, Jaheira made some small talk. “I haven’t worked much on gnolls before. Most of my experience has been in crossing weapons with them.”

“I guess…it can’t have been very pleasant” Savan murmured, thinking of Shank and Carbo’s taunting words. “I heard that we’re not very friendly.”

“That is one way of putting it.” Straightening up, Jaheira fished some fresh bandages from out of her pack. “Raiders and bandits. Thieves who steal and burn. Predators and demon worshippers. Those who I have met have been aggressors who prey upon those who can’t fight back and take what they want. They attack in the night and burn and kill everything in their way. Often they devour their victims so that none are left when morning comes.”

“On the other hand” she went on, “No people can survive only on raiding and violence. No species can survive such a prolonged state of warfare. There are some nations, like Thay and the Sythissilian Empire where they live alongside the local populace. And I have spoken to comrades who’ve told me of gnoll clans that are not hostile. Isolationist and wary but who can be traded with. Much like nature shows many faces, it is much the same with more sapient species.” She glanced at Savan and took note of his wide eyes and the way his ears were perked. For a nonhuman species, he was surprisingly easy to read. Jaheira arched an eyebrow and hmm’ed lightly. “I take it that you don’t know much about your people?”

“Not really.” Savan shook his head. “Just that I could have gone mad at any time and…” He trailed off and shuddered. Remembering the taste of Carbo in his mouth. The flesh and blood.

“Hm. Well, battle madness is hardly exclusive to gnolls. It’s a common practice that warriors have been honing for…who knows how long?” Jaheira shrugged some and quirked the corner of her mouth as if to acknowledge the vagaries of warriors. “Berserkers, they are called. Inducing a state of mind that grants them greater strength and stamina. Hardens their flesh. Protects their mind. Gives them the fortitude to shrug off blows that should kill them.” She gave him a level look.

It took a moment for the unspoken question to sink in, and Savan shook his head and laid his ears back. “Oh. Well…I don’t think I can do that” he said hastily.

“You don’t think? I’d imagine it would be hard to miss.” Jaheira chuckled wryly at Savan’s hemming and hawing. “I am not going to judge you, child. But I would have been willing to bet that struck as you were, you should not have survived. At least not in the shape that you were.”

Savan looked down at himself, noting the mottled bruising across his chest. Purples and blacks that clashed against his fur and that ached constantly. He didn’t know how he’d get to sleep tonight. But…it could have been much worse.

“…Maybe…there’s something to that” he admitted slowly. His ears laid back slowly and he cleared his throat self-consciously. “I don’t know how I do it, or what’s happening. But sometimes…when a fight happens…I get angry. It’s like my blood is singing to me. Whispering things in my ear. It happened when the ogre attacked you and Imoen. And before that, on the night that Gorion was killed. And before that, when…well, it seems to happen when a fight breaks out. But not always. And I don’t know what makes it happen. Or why. Just that it does! And…”

He trailed off and huffed, looking away. “I must sound crazy…”

“Let us rather say that you sound like a young man”, Jaheira responded with a wry smile, “One who is in a difficult position with lots that he doesn’t understand. You are not the first, child. And you won’t be the last. As we travel, I would advise you to pay attention if it happens again. Your state of mind, your body, your emotions. Perhaps you have some natural talents that would explain it.”

“That’s…um…” Savan hesitated for a moment. Then took a leap of faith in the moment. “Maybe I do…here. Let me show you.”

Jaheira blinked but didn’t interrupt when Savanh moved a hand to his chest. He grimaced a bit but didn’t pull his palm away and he concentrated. For a moment there was nothing. And in the next a faint blue light coalesced around his fingers. There were light sparkles. Motes of energy. The swirling ether of magical energy being harnessed. And then Savan grunted, and the light was pushed into his chest. When he pulled his hand away the bruising didn’t look nearly as awful. He huffed tiredly and folded his ears back, peering at Jaheira nervously as though expecting to be berated,

The druid paused thinking over what she’d just seen while leaning forward to study his injuries. “…I’ve never seen anything quite like that before” she murmured, frowning. “That didn’t have the look of proper spell casting. And you have not been trained as a cleric or taken the oaths of a paladin, have you?”

“No. Except for what the priests at Candlekeep taught me. History and verses and things like that.”

“Is this why you were struck so hard and weren’t broken in half?”

Savan nodded and ducked his head. “I got knocked back. I FELT my ribs break. And I just…KNEW that I could do something about it. And I HAD to. Because you guys were still fighting the ogre, and I couldn’t just leave you to it…”

For a time Jaheira didn’t say anything. She just regarded him thoughtfully. An odd look in her eyes that Savan didn’t quite understand. He just sat there quietly, hands on his knees. Feeling kind of awkward. Wondering if he’d said too much. It DID sound kinda weird, didn’t it? Strange powers…he must have sounded crazy to someone like Jaheira, who’d been an adventurer for years before he’d met her.

She wasn’t looking at him like he was delusional, though. She looked…Savan didn’t know. Like she was remembering something from a long time ago.

“Well” she said at last, stepping back and turning to her pack, “There are all manner of techniques and abilities under the sun. In this case, it saved your life or at least protected you from great harm. If you find it happening again, then I would advise that you keep aware of yourself. See how you feel. How you think. How your body reacts. Learn to control it if you can. Make it more reliable. Here.” Finding the roll of bandages she was looking for, Jaheira straightened up and smiled wryly. “I was going to apply some healing magic myself but you seem to have it handled.”

“Yes ma’am!” Relieved, Savan accepted the bandages and began to awkwardly wrap them about his chest, tight enough to support his ribs without bending them out of shape.

“Savan.”

He paused and flicked his ears, peering back to Jaheira. “Yesh…?”

The druid didn’t answer for a moment as she packed her supplies up. Once everything was tucked away she looked at him silently. Eventually she just said “Please be careful. You risked yourself to fight for us. That is admirable. But a friend who lives will leave better memories than one who dies young. Do you understand?”

“Yesh ma’am” he murmured, chastened. But…feeling a smile tug on his muzzle. Friends.

///////

They stayed three days in Beregost. Recovering, resupplying and taking stock of the situation. There was news to be heard. Jobs to be had. Work for adventurers and wayward swords was always available, as it turned out. There was always a missing cloak that needed to be found, or house filled with giant spiders, or a bounty on bandit scalps.

That last part had thrown Savan for a loop when he’d heard about it.

“Wait…so a captain of the Flaming Fist mercenaries is paying fifty gold for bandit scalps?!” he’d said incredulously the next day over breakfast. “Why scalps? How could she know they’re from bandits? Fifty gold each?! So we could have chopped off the hair of those hobgoblins before and made enough money for most people to retire on?! Whash were they thinking?!”

Personally, Savan found clearing out the house full of giant spiders to be more sensible and believable, but money was money. And gold went surprisingly quickly. There were supplies to pay for. Repairs for gear. New weapons. Spell components. Paying for the inn. Thankfully Beregost was full of those kinds of odd jobs that guaranteed a decent pay off for a bit of a scuffle, and once he was feeling in good shape Savan was able to help out.

There was one more quick job that was on the to do list before the group headed out of town. Nashkel was still a few days away but it was the kind of opportunity to make a lot of money for barely any effort.

“So who is Silke Rosena anyway?” Savan wanted to know.

“S-some kind of thespian” Khalid explained. “A singer, I suppose. Or dancer. Or actress. I guess she’s some k-kind of local celebrity.”

“Huh.” Savan mulled that over. “I’ve never heard of her.”

“Neither have I” Imoen agreed, “But then again we’ve been locked in Candlekeep all out lives. There’s no stage performances going on there!”

“Unless you count the temple choirs” Savan countered.

“Oh boo! Those are less thespian than shadow puppets on the wall!”

“Well that’s just rude!”

Khalid shook his head and smiled in amusement. “W-well I hear that her Q-Queen Helcantur was the toast of Rivington.”

“I don’t know what that means…”

“Neither do I, t-to be honest.”

“Shhh! Quiet, everyone” Jaheira scolded from her place at the front of the group. “Look professional.”

She had been the one approached by Miss Rosena’s agent, and so the druid took the lead. She certainly did cut an imposing figure, tall, armed and armoured with a no nonsense look about her. Looking every bit the mercenary for hire as she led the rest of them to the front of the Burning Wizard, the fanciest inn in town. It certainly had the best sign, and Savan took a moment to admire the lurid artwork of the man on fire, so much so that he missed the initial meeting.

“Miss Rosena.”

“Ah! And you must be Jaheira! Such a pleasure to make your acquaintance!”

Savan turned his eyes to the thespian and peered at her while she spoke with Jaheira, curious to see what a thespian looked like.

In this case a thespian looked like a woman of middle age. Long, silky brown hair that was pleated and braided delicately. Fine, colourful robes that were cinched rather snugly about her large bodice. A big, welcoming smile and lovely blue eyes, both done up with a touch too much makeup. At least it seemed like it to Savan. He didn’t really understand such things, but she did seem to be well off with bejeweled rings on a hand that held onto a silver-shod staff.

“Likewise” Jaheira declared with a slight nod of her head. “We spoke with your man and he said that you had a need for hired protection.”

“Indeed I do.” Silke heaved a deep breath and sighed theatrically. Her gaze dropped to her hand and she took a moment to examine her long fingernails. Savan fidgeted after a moment or two but Jaheira waited patiently and at last the thespian explained the situation. “There are many things that I love about my line of work. The adoring fans. The performances. The costumes and music and dress rehearsals. The glowing reviews. My Queen Helcantur was the toast of Rivington, you know.”

“Indeed. Most impressive.”

“Thank you, my dear!” Silke flashed Jaheira a dazzling smile. “Ahhh, but if there is one part of the life that I could do without, it’s the sheer cut throat competition to retain my services!” She clicked her tongue and shook her head sorrowfully, hugging her staff against her chest. “And in small towns like Beregost, it just seems to get worse! Never you believe those tales about small town nice, dear. The smaller they are, the meaner they are.” She clucked her tongue and shook her head, disappointed in the cruelties of mankind. “Which, of course, brings us to the matter at hand.”

“Hm.” Jaheira arched an eyebrow.

“The local innkeepers have practically gone to war with each other for the honour of hosting me at their establishment! It’s enough to drive a young woman to despair.” Silke sighed theatrically and shook her head. “But such is the world we live in! And one must eat after all! So I have been in talks with Feldpost, of Feldpost’s inn, And we are to meet this evening regarding payment for services rendered. It would mean a great deal to me…to have some armed back up at the meeting.”

“An understandable desire. Though of course, where there is threat, there is compensation.”

“Naturally! I would never dream of having you risk your lives for free!” Silke smiled charmingly and patted a pouch at her belt, making it clink invitingly.

Two hundred gold pieces for one day’s work. That was the offer that Silke Rosena made, and Jaheira accepted on behalf of the party. A little bit later when they had some privacy, Imoen expressed some amazement at how much money it was.

“If that washed up old broad is that eager to put that much money on the line, then either she’s desperate or up to something!”

“Imoen!” Savan stared at her, aghast. “Rude much?!”

The snarky young woman snorted and hooked her thumbs in her belt, tilting her head back. “Hey, I calls them as I sees them!”

“And she’s certainly got a point” Jaheira added, sorting through a pouch where she kept her spell components, making sure that she had everything in place. “That IS a large amount of money being offered to us on a silver platter. Never trust a silver platter, Savan.”

“Then…why did you take her offer?”

“Because if I didn’t, then someone else would have.”

Savan didn’t quite understand that reasoning. He spent the rest of the afternoon mulling over it while their ragtag little band prepared for possible action. They gathered outside of the Burning Wizard once again and the young gnoll almost missed the cue that things were about to get started.

“So good to see you again!” Silke greeted them with a broad smile and a grandiose gesture. “I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you accepted my offer. I must admit, I’m feeling a bit concerned for my safety.”

“Well, that is why you hired us” Jaheira drawled. She didn’t seem overly impressed to Savan, but she did nod and peer down the road. “From the looks of it we are right on time.”

Three figures were strolling towards them, about a hundred meters or so away and not seeming to be in any hurry. But they were definitely approaching the Burning Wizard, and the one who seemed to be the leader was pointing towards them.

Savan eyed them suspiciously. It hadn’t been that long ago when he’d been stabbed by people he’d never thought would try something like that…no matter how much they’d hated each other. …But he had to admit to himself, these three certainly didn’t look like likely thugs… Two of them looked like farmhands who’d spent a few minutes washing up after work. And the third who seemed to be in charge was portly, dressed in a reasonably fancy tunic and trousers, and carried a small wooden box in his hands.

He tried to stretch his imagination…but couldn’t really picture the three of them trying anything violent with four well-armed adventurer types.

“Yes…here they come” Silke murmured, eyes narrowing as she glared at the men. “Ready yourselves. These are hardened men, who’d kill as soon as talk to you.”

In spite of his doubts, Savan tensed up and eyed the approaching men cautiously. The rotund leader strolled up to the group, sparing a glance to the rest of them but turning his full attention to Silke.

“Greetings Miss Rosena” he said with a wave of his hand and a bob of his head. “I’ve spoken with my associates as you’ve asked, and we have the-“

“Don’t try to threaten me anymore!” Silke seemed to coil like a snake, ferocity showing behind the makeup. “I wont be easy prey for you to beat on, I’ve brought friends this time!”

The man blinked in surprise, his two companions looking at each other in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked. “We’ve brought the gems that you…”

“SHUT UP!!! There’ll be no weaseling out of this one! STRIKE NOW!” Silke pointed her staff at the three men. “Don’t let them leave here alive!!!”

Frankly, Savan was shocked at the change that came over the actress and could only stare in slack jawed disbelief. Jaheira…she just looked at Silke Rosena with a flat, unimpressed expression. “Are you mad?” she demanded. “I don’t know what you expected of us, but we are not going to murder these obviously innocent men!”

Oh, Silke did not like that one bit… Her eye twitched and a vein kind of popped on her forehead. Her immaculately painted lips curled in a snarl and she whirled on Jaheira and the rest of them. “Then the deal’s off! I should have known you wouldn’t have the stomach for this” she snarled. “Forget the money, I’ll handle them myself after I deal with you!” Then she gestured with her hands and spoke several words in the spidery language of magic!

It all happened so fast. Jaheira jammed the butt of her quarterstaff into Silke’s gut, knocking the wind out of her lungs and disrupting her spell. Then Khalid led Savan and Imoen into jumping her all at once, dogpiling her to the ground and pinning her arms in place. The thespian yelled and screamed and kicked most vigorously while bringing imprecations down on all of their heads, but she was rendered helpless by weight and numbers, murderous impulses trapped.

The three men who’d come to negotiate with her could only stare slack jawed and in shock while Jaheira approached. “My apologies, sirs. I believe that you have been deceived.”

“It seems so!” their leader said, wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Good grief! We’d heard that Silke Rosena had gotten a bit eccentric lately…but they’d sounded like slander and lies!” He shook his head and sighed gustily. “What a development! We owe you our thanks, Miss.” He reached into his coat and fumbled about before producing a potion bottle, offering it to Jaheira. “It’s not much. But I can promise you, folks here in Beregost will hear that you and your troop are good people!”

Good people. Well that wasn’t so bad for how…unexpected that supposedly simple mission had gone. At least Savan had thought so. He’d got a whole lot to think about, regarding the kinds of jobs that adventurers would take. And he thought that he knew what Jaheira had meant when she’d warned him about silver platters. It stuck with him, and he would ponder the situation thoughtfully as the group gathered together to get out of town, pockets filled with Silke’s gold and Jaheira having claimed the sorceress’ quarterstaff before they had turned her over to the town guards.

All’s well that ended well. But Jaheira still had them on the move again, leaving Beregost before sundown.

“Awww, no more nice warm beds and rooves over our heads?” Imoen stuck her tongue out and pouted as Khalid herded the young woman down the road, past the general store and weapon shop. “You’re killing me here, Khalid!”

“W-well, better me than some bandit or assassin” Khalid said with a wry smile.

“Well, you are going to get an earful all night for it!”

“That will c-certainly be a n-new experience…”

Savan rolled his eyes and scratched the back of his head, adjusting his mask again. He looked over to Jaheira who was rolling her eyes at the bickering but couldn’t quite hide a faint smirk. Turning some, she looked to Savan as they walked together, and he unconsciously straightened himself up as they walked.

“How are the ribs treating you?” she wanted to know, and Savan pressed a hand against his side carefully.

“They’re alright” he reported. “I should be okay the next time we get in a fight. Or have to protect any actresses.” Savan ducked his head and smiled some at Jaheira. “I think I get what you meant earlier. About silver platters.”

“Hmm…” Jaheira regarded him a moment, then nodded. “It’s not my intention to take the lead forever. I don’t want to make your decisions for you, Savan. I just want you to think before you do.” She cracked a smile to him and adjusted her pack on her shoulders. “So long as you can pick and choose the work that you do, you should think. Watch. And listen.”

“Hm.” Savan fell silent as they strolled along down the road. Listening to his thoughts and thinking about the day’s events. “Is it…always like that?” he’d eventually pipe up. “Where someone will try and take advantage of me? Where they turn out to be crazy and try to bully me into doing something...really nasty?”

In turn, Jaheira didn’t answer the question right away. She mulled it over for a moment or two, half listening to Imoen and Khalid, before eventually shaking her head. “No” she said slowly. “It’s not always like that. But you must understand that adventuring is a very…rough and tumble choice of profession. You must think about every job that you take. Some employees will lie to you or withhold information to try and squeeze more service from you. Others may try to cheat you out of pay. Still others won’t have much to pay you at all to begin with. When you offer a valuable service like a sword for hire, then you will find that people will do much to point that sword where they want it.”

“Huh.” Savan mulled that over, frowning. “Then…why would people ever want to be an adventurer?”

“Ah…that’s not an easy question to answer.” The druid chuckled in amusement. “There are as many answers to that as there are leaves in the forest.”

“How about you then?”

Jaheira paused, and thinking that he had asked something personal, Savan backpedaled and added “Or Gorion? Why did he go out adventuring when he could have stayed safe in Candlekeep?”

“Well child…that’s not an easy question to answer.”

Savan felt his ears splay out behind his mask and readied himself for a rebuke. It never came. Tapping at her jaw lightly, Jaheira considered her words carefully. Eventually, she slowly said “I think that there are quite a few stories that I could tell you about Gorion… Stories that would help you understand him and why he would adventure when he could have stayed home in peace. We were very different in many ways, your father and I. And I admit, I didn’t think very much of him at first.” A smile tugged at her mouth though the druid kept it inside. “As it turned out, the two of us agreed on something very important. Namely…” She glanced at Savan then. “If people sit by and do nothing, then nothing will ever change. Simply put, that is why I adventure. And that is true of Gorion as well.”

“I would never say that the adventurer’s life is meant for everyone” Jaheira went on. “There are far safer and more pleasant ways to live. It is dangerous. Violent. And far too many die early. If you get the chance to, it might be wise to settle down back in Candlekeep. But at the same time…there is so much good that can be done with yourself.”

Savan chewed on those words in silence for a time. He tried to imagine his father, bookish and fussy as a beacon of hope and a paragon of morals. And…well…it was a lot easier to do than he’d thought. Could he be like that?

“Huh” he said at last, scratching the back of his head. “That…is a lot to live up to…”

“Try not to think too hard about it for now” Jaheira assured him, smiling reassuringly. “History is filled with heroes and villain who never set out to be either. They just…chose to live their dream.”

And what could Savan say to that? He thought about her words all through the rest of the night while Khalid and Imoen bickered good naturedly.

///////

Karlat drained his tankard and let it thump on the table before him, just as the front door to the inn clattered open. It was late, well past sundown, and the commons of the Red Sheaf inn were empty. So when the doors swung open and a road worn traveller staggered on in, there wasn’t many around to see them. Just the bartender and Karlat. And after a quick glance, the bartender returned to polishing his glasses, uninterested.

Karlat, on the other hand smirked in recognition at the dirty and road worn human who staggered on in. They peered about the commons until their eyes settled on him, then staggered across the room to near collapse in a chair across from him.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in” the dwarf snarked. “Tarnesh! It’s been a while. A week? Two? He poured himself another tankard from the pitcher at his table, pointedly emptying the last of it. “I seem to recall you were pretty sure that you had some fool proof plan for a sur fire bounty. Looks like you ran into a spot of trouble.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Tarnesh pulled up a chair and practically collapsed into it. He weaved his fingers together and rested his eyebrows on the tabletop, eyes peering about the commons. Searching for someone or something in particular, but not spotting it.

“Aye, well we all run afoul of hard times.” Karlat nodded sagely, forcing a conciliatory tone in his voice. The mage wasn’t all bad, really. A know it all. A bit full of himself. He needed these hard times now and again. A man who forgot to look down tripped over his own feet. Sipping his brew almost daintily, he hmm’ed and took a moment to stroke his mustaches. “So what brings you around these parts? Given up on that fat score?”

“Heh. Hardly. There’ve been some complications, is all. Tell me…” Smiling tightly, Tarnesh leaned forward across the table some. “Have you seen some travellers come through town?”

“Care to narrow it down, lad? This is Beregost.” Karlat waved a hand, encompassing the whole town. “People pass through all the time.”

“You’d know this group when you saw them. Adventurer types. There are four of them. Two half elves, a man and a woman. A girl, looked like she was in her early twenties. Dressed brightly. Pink. Purple? Maybe more of a violet colour…anyway!” The mage ahem’ed and his eyes gleamed. “And a young man. Human. Male. Very tall. Very buff. One of those lantern jaws.”

“I dunno, you human folk all look the same to me.” Karlat waited for an appropriately offended look from the mage before he burst into laughter. “Oh lighten up! You should see the look on ye face!”

“Har har.” Tarnesh scowled irritably. “Just tell me if you’ve seen them about!”

Rolling his eyes, Karlat sat back and thought. “Hm. I haven’t laid eyes on them myself” he said slowly. “But I did hear that a group was in town matching that description. Did some odd jobs. Giant spiders. Bandit bounties. Got hired by some bloody local actress, wound up sending her off with the town guard kicking and screaming, then left town earlier today.”

Karlat paused in taking another drink at the light that seemed to glow in Tarnesh’s eyes. He narrowed his own and set down his tankard. “What’s this all about? Who’s this bunch of nobody adventurers that’s lit a firecracker in your pants?”

“Well, it all ties back to my…unfortunately delayed earlier plan to collect that bounty from Candlekeep.” Tarnesh rummaged about in his belt pouches and pulled out the crumpled bounty notice, shoving it across the table to the dwarf.

Karlat shook his head in bemusement. “But none of that particular group was a gnoll. Folks would have remembered that.”

“Yes...it’s quite clever, isn’t it?” Tapping his fingers on the table, Tarnesh took a deep breath and forced himself to relax. He was on their trail! He’d thought he had lost them but they were so close he could taste it! But he needed to prepare. After all, there were four of them and just one of him. For now.

“Karlat” the mage went on with an oily smile, “I do believe that if we worked together for a time then we could both stand to make a good bunch of money from this…”