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The road south between Beregost and Nashkel was filthy with bandits.

Hobgoblins from the Chill. Dangerous and desperate humans in rough leathers and brandishing bows and swords. A collection of ogres and ogrillons that would mash travellers to a pulp and take their valuables. Anyone who was anyone with a pointed stick and a dream was swarming the woods and the hills, just waiting for travelers, merchants, or wagons full of precious iron to fall into their hands.

And not one of them had the brains to think that harassing heavily armed adventurers was a poor life decision.

At least that’s how it seemed to Savan as he brought down a heavy tree branch on the skull of one such murderous hopeful. Weedy and poorly bathed, the bandit’s stench made the gnoll’s snout wrinkle. His head made a crunching sound and he fell bonelessly to the ground after the heavy blow. Being dead probably wouldn’t improve the stench…

Stepping back, he took a moment to catch his breath and looked around to the others. The ambush had been brief but fierce. Arrows had been shot in the air. A half dozen sword wielding bandits burst from cover and charged the party with murder in their eyes! And they’d promptly been engaged with steel and fury, as with Imoen’s stealthy scouting and Jaheira’s rapport with animals gave them plenty of forewarning about what these bandits had planned. The arrows had clattered against Khalid’s shield. The first bandit that had burst from cover had been shot in the face by Imoen and her bow. And then Jaheira and Savan had met them halfway and bowled through them like tenpins.

The violence had been quick and decisive. The only casualty on their side had been Savan’s mace. He’d brought it down so hard on a bandit’s shoulder that neither had made it out in one piece. Thankfully he’d got his hands on that sturdy tree branch towards the end of the short fight. Now he held the makeshift club in the crook of his arm while the team went through the process of after battle clean up. Making sure the bandits were all cleanly killed. Collecting scalps for the Flaming Fist bounties. Gathering up any valuables they may have, whether gold, gems, weapons or secret missives detailing plans for domination of the Sword Coast.

They’d yet to find any of the later but Imoen insisted on being sure. And she was the smart one, so Savan acquiesced.

“Another one gone?”

Savan looked up from the bandit he was crouched over as Khalid approached. He sighed and nodded, lifting the mace he’d been leant. The iron head had split nearly in two.

“I keep breaking your weapons” he said ruefully. Khalid just shook his head and shrugged.

“Well th-that’s what they’re for. And ever since the iron p-plague started, it’s been easier and easier to break them.” Khalid held up his hands as if to say ‘what can you do?’ Then crouched down to relieve the dead bandit of his possessions. “Until we can afford some magically enhanced w-weapons, we’ll just have to k-keep taking them from our foes.”

And at least there seemed to be no shortage of those. Every time their band outmaneuvered and cut down another group of bandits, they added a selection of weapons to their cache. None of it was very good. But none of them could afford to turn up their noses at this point, not even Jaheira with Silke Rosena’s magical quarterstaff.

“Shtill…I’ll try to take it eashy on the…on the weapons” Savan said, biting his tongue. “I think I swing them too hard...”

“T-try not to worry about it too much” Khalid advised. “You’re built very strong. And if a tool breaks in the line of duty, it’s a duty well done.” He clapped the gnoll on the shoulder and smiled. “Let’s get going. Another group may head this way and we’d have a t-tough time explaining w-what happened to their friends.”

Kill them.

“Yeah.” Savan chuckled nervously and glanced around at the quiet forest. He gave his tree branch a few practice swings before moving to strap a pilfered shortsword onto his belt. “You’re probably right…”

Although…would that be such a bad thing, really?

///////

Nashkel was the largest of towns that Savan and Imoen had laid eyes on yet.

Built along the banks of a river, the southwest side showed signs of logging and industry. The sounds of axes biting wood and the creaking of trees coming down could be heard on the wind as the party strolled down the road. And from the gray clouds rising above the trees, that had to be where the mines were located too. And on the northeast bank of the river was the town itself. Not so spread out as Beregost, the shops and homes were packed in close to each other. The Nashkel Inn and general store, and the Drunken Dragon bar formed the core of businesses from which the cobblestone streets spread like spokes on a wheel. The mayor’s manor was the largest of buildings and looked like it had started off as a fort in the wilderness. And on the outskirts, the local temple to Helm, god of justice was perched like a watchman against the wilderness. Overall, Nashkel was larger, busier and promised more shenanigans than Beregost did by a wide margin.

But as he surveyed the town from the road, Savan couldn’t help but think it was also more quiet, tense, and frightened.

The people of Beregost had walked the streets loud and proud. They were noisy and unafraid. Around this time of day, there would have been an influx of farmhands and labourers filling the streets while heading to their tavern of choice. Children running through town at some game or other. Housewives hanging laundry and chatting with each other. Chickens or goats ambling ambling through peoples’ legs like they owned the town.

In Nashkel people hurried through the roads without looking at each other. Children were accompanied through the streets by suspicious guardians who shot looks at everyone they passed. The Nashkel town guards went everywhere in groups of three or four. And for a largeish town with a valuable mining industry, everything seemed run down, small, and closed in. It was all very eerie and foreboding.

Peering down the road that led into Nashkel, Savan hesitated for a moment or two. Then looked to the others and ahem’ed. “It’s so quiet…”

“And smelly.” Imoen sniffed at the air and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, what is that?”

“The mines, probably” Khalid guessed. “Iron dust in the air.”

“Blech!” Imoen mimed some dry heaves, clutching her stomach. “I’m going to be sick!”

Savan just rolled his eyes and patted her on the back. It wasn’t so bad…if he could control himself then Imoen was just being dramatic.

“Steady on. Try and look professional.” Jaheira peered into town and looked concerned. “What you are seeing is a town that is greatly troubled. In nature, when there is a great catastrophe, a wildfire or a storm or some other disaster, all manner of stresses become placed upon the wildlife. Creatures that are not normally neighbours are forced together. They must coexist, feed alongside each other, live near predators and competitors. This puts a great deal of stress upon everything involved. Animals will not feed, they will not mate, and nature suffers.” The druid paused to watch a mother hurry her children along down the street, taking in the fear on their features. She shook her head and sighed. “I see the same status here. Come. We must speak to the mayor, Berrun Ghastkill.

The roads were clean, at least. And organized. The rag tag band of adventurers were able to take them right to the front of the mayoral manor where a couple of nervous looking town guards were on duty. To Savan, they didn’t look particularly impressive. Not like captain Jondalar or even Belt back home at Candlekeep. Still, they had swords and shields, bows and chainmail, and looked better fed than the packs of bandits he had been exchanging blows with lately. He self-consciously patted the handle of the tree branch he’d been using for the last few days and straightened up some, trying not to look so scruffy. Professional. He could look professional.

Thankfully mayor Ghastkill must not have been too picky. One guard stepped into the manor to confer and returned a minute later, waving them all on in. “Mayor Ghastkill will see you now” he reported, “This way please.”

“Well, that was easy” Imoen whispered to Savan. “I was expecting to have to jump through some hoops.”

“We might still” Savan whispered back. He gave her a light thwack on the shoulder as they were welcomed into an office. Stuffed animal heads were mounted on the walls. A suit of plate armour was on display in the corner and there was a large desk right in the center. The kind of desk that important people sat at and eyed you in a supercilious manner, hemmed and hawed, then scolded you for your poor efforts at your schoolwork. Savan felt his mane bristle under his disguise, and he looked about reflexively, expecting to see some stern authority figure looming upon him.

Except there was no such figure. The nearest that came in the room was a man. A large, armoured human who was standing next to a map on the wall. He was conferring with someone in the armour of a Flaming Fist mercenary, and he didn’t look up when the party were let into his office. He kept talking for a few more moments before dismissing his guest. The Fist saluted and turned to march from the room, eyeing the party suspiciously on the way out. The man in armour stayed behind, studying the map for a moment more before sighing out loud and turning to face the party.

“There are just far too many things to do and I don’t have enough hands to handle them myself” he said by way of greeting, his voice rough but polite. He crossed his arms as he regarded them one by one, eventually nodding. “My name is Berrun Ghastkill. And I certainly hope you’ve come to Nashkel interested in solving these troubles.”

“Indeed.” Jaheira nodded politely and gestured to the others. “My name is Jaheira. This is my husband, Khalid. And our team of adventurers are here to offer our services to your town.”

Berrun brightened visibly at the names presented. “Ah! Jaheira and Khalid. I’ve heard of you. It’s good to have some experienced fighters here. That was a good bit of business, uncovering that Zhentarim slave ring down the coast. They say you slew a hundred Black Talon mercenaries and freed fifty prisoners bound for Zhentil Keep.”

“T-to be fair, it was more like a dozen” Khalid said with a shrug and a smile. “And we were t-trying to be stealthy about it so they mostly n-never saw us coming.”

“There are fifty freed slaves who would say that the number of kills isn’t important, just the results.” Berrun beckoned the party further into the room, gesturing to the map he had been studying. “And I won’t lie. Results are badly needed here.”

Jaheira approached to examine the map. “What is the situation? There are all kinds of rumours about a blight in the mines.”

“The rumours are true. Here. Look at this…”

Savan peered at the map, circling around the desk and looking over Imoen’s shoulder. It looked to be of the town of Nashkel and its surrounding lands. Lines were marked in red, little skulls in white and some symbols in blue that looked like religious markings though he wasn’t wholly familiar with them. He recognized the gauntlet and eye of Helm, god of law and light and other such things but there was also a skull with spikes and wiggly lines sticking out of it that he didn’t know.

“The facts are grim” Berrun said flatly. “Nashkel is under siege. The roadway is swarming with bandit groups to the north and south. Goblinoids of all sorts. Ogres. We can barely get shipments of supplies into Nashkel let alone any ore out. The Flaming Fist has put up a bounty on each one that’s slain, but there have been precious few takers in town.”

“Well, cutting off people’s scalps IS a very strange thing to do” Savan muttered to Imoen. She snickered but elbowed him and he fell silent when Berrun Ghastkill frowned at the pair of them.

“The worst of the lot are these three forces here” he went on, pointing to the skull symbols on the map. “Up this way are a force of ogres that have set up in a makeshift fortress in the hills. Along the road to the north, close enough to hurl rocks at the road.

They must have dodged them by accident on their circuitous route south, Savan mused. He thought back to the big ogre with the belts. And the two that had fought for the armoured figure. One of his hands slowly clenched into a fist.

“To the west, through Fireleaf forest and along Bear River, there’s a big fortress full of gnolls.”

Thoughts of ogres and the idle cruelties he might like to do to them suddenly fled Savan’s head and he was all ears, peering at the map intently as Berrun Ghastkill gestured to the stronghold.

“My few scouts have reported that they’ve cut down trees to make a log fortress tucked up among the crags and the caves. No one’s been able to get particularly close, but they estimate at least a couple of dozen of the spotted bastards.” Berrun shook his head and curled his lip. “Normally they’d be far enough away that we could ignore them but there’ve been reports of them moving up and down the road, picking off travellers and Flaming Fists mercenaries. The mines are all but unguarded there, and any kind of concentrated attack…” He shook his head and sighed. “It would be a disaster.”

“Hmm…” Jaheira nodded slowly, taking it all in while studying the map. “Bandits. Ogres. Gnolls. What about this?” She tapped at the strange holy symbol on the map. “Do you have Cyric worshippers too?”

Berrun scowled at the question. “Unfortunately. That would be the third group that threatens Nashkel. A mad necromancer has taken up residence in the forests to the northeast. Bassilus the Murderer, he’s called. A Cyric worshiper and a Zhent that’s been raising skeletons and zombies everywhere he goes. He’s got a whole gaggle of them with him, and any day now he could decide to swoop down on Nashkel and add us to his little army. Folks are spooked and frightened. People are afraid to leave their homes. Damn it, the carnival is in town and people are barely visiting.”

“Carnival?!”

The mayor chuckled wryly at Imoen’s excited exclamation. “Yes, the Circus of the Last Days. They usually stop by Nashkel once a year or two. This year they just happened to come during an economic crisis. Why not stop by? Ringmaster Lucretious would welcome the business…Helm knows she’s not getting much from the town.”

Jaheira ostentatiously tilted her nose up and pretended that she didn’t see the look Imoen was giving her. Those big puppy dog eyes would not be denied however. “Maybe” she said while keeping her eyes on the map. “There are more questions that I would ask. Has your town guard had any luck with your multitude of catastrophes?”

“Not really” Berrun admitted. “The morale was sucked right out of them when my guard captain went mad and murdered his family.”

“What?!”

“It’s exactly as I said. Captain Brage went mad and murdered his family, then fled into the wilderness. I have no idea where he’s gone, but if he can be brought back somehow then he can be made to answer for his crimes.”

Into the stunned silence that filled the room, Savan said flatly “This whole town is cursed.”

“Savan!” The gnoll winced a bit as Jaheira turned and glared at him. “Manners, please.”

“Heh. Well, he’s not wrong.” Berrun shook his head ruefully. “And I haven’t even given you details about the mine yet.”

He stepped over to a small wooden box on a shelf, picking it up and carrying it to the desk. “Even if every caravan carrying iron wasn’t getting ambushed, the merchants and guards killed, the cargo plundered, the market prices being driven to unseen heights due to scarcity, then Nashkel’s mines would still be cursed. Here. Look at this.” Berrun upended the box onto the desk and a reddish grey lump of rock about the size of a fist rolled out. Savan leaned in to take a closer look. “Go on” the mayor encouraged. “Pick it up. Give it a thwack.”

Cautious but curious, the gnoll took the rock in his fist, gave it a quick once over then cracked it down hard onto the desktop. It practically exploded in his grip. Savan acked and jumped back, dropping the fragments of chalky stone and rubbing the dust off on his pants. “Gah! What was that?!” he growled.

Berrun Ghastkill crossed his arms grimly. “That was some iron ore taken from our mines.” He paused for a moment to let that sink in. “Yes, so much of it is just like that. Soft. Rotted. I’d say at least two of every three loads that comes up from the mines is just like this. Useless. You said that Nashkel is cursed.” He sighed and shook his head. “I wouldn’t be surprised. Bandits, curses, poisoned iron. And with the town guard in such terrible shape, I can’t even protect my own miners let take the fight to everything out there! In short, I’m at my wit’s end and I need help…”

It was an absolute mess. And Savan could almost understand why there didn’t seem to be any other adventurer groups in the area. This was more than a mouthful; it was enough trouble to choke a horse. Worse than a few ogres and a pack of bandits, or a psychotic diva. This could really get them killed.

And he hooked his thumbs into his belt and straightened up some. Trying to sound professional, he nodded and smiled with what he hoped was confidence. “Well, in that case we can talk about pay after we’ve removed some curses.”

He thought that he heard Imoen snicker behind him. But mayor Ghastkill smiled a bit and looked relieved.

“There’s no shortage of pay opportunities, I can tell you that…no one’s asking you to risk your lives and safety without a living wage.” He looked to Jaheira then and nodded. “But you’ve just come into town. The hour is getting late. And I wouldn’t expect you to go racing into danger without preparation.”

“Well thank goodness for that.” Jaheira smirked lightly. “Then we shall take our leave and settle in for the night. When the morning comes, we shall start investigating and see what can be done.”

Nodding some, Berrun straightened himself up and clapped a fist to his chest. “Then let me formally welcome you to Nashkel. Please enjoy your stay. I sincerely hope that you can save our town.”

///////

“You know” Imoen mused through a mouthful of roast beef, “For a town that’s cursed, the food is pretty good!”

“W-with fewer t-travelers and troubles focused on the roads, I’d g-guess that there’s a food stockpile.” Khalid cut into some roast vegetables and looked about the commons of the Nashkel Inn. The only one of its kind in town, as it turned out. And there were not many guests in sight. The Flaming Fist officer that they’d seen in the mayor’s home. An armoured woman in a corner, nursing a pitcher of ale while reading from a book. And them. “They’re p-probably glad for our business.”

Imoen swallowed noisily and took a swig from her tankard, then grinned brightly. “Then we’re doing our civic duty by making sure this good grub doesn’t go to waste!”

Savan chuckled to himself, then smiled sheepishly at Jaheira. “I’m sorry…I overstepped there, didn’t I?”

“Eh.” Jaheira waved a fork with a roast potato speared upon it. “You were perhaps a bit crasser than I would have liked. But there was no harm done. And perhaps your enthusiasm is to be commended.” She smirked as Savan hemmed and hawed at that. “Regardless, we have ourselves a look at the work ahead of us.”

“And that is a lot of work, alright…” Imoen shook her head and paused eating to help herself to some more roast and vegetables.

“Our priority tomorrow will be to gather information. Bandit groups. A murderous necromancer. A mad guard captain. And doubtless whatever is in the mine itself.” Leaning in, Jaheira looked to Imoen and Savan seriously. “Iron does not naturally rot like this. Once our preparations are complete then we will need to go in directly. There will be tight tunnels. Low ceilings. Little room to maneuver. We must be ready for mine gas and running water, and to carry our own light.”

“Bah!” Imoen huffed and pouted. “Everyone here can see in the dark but me.”

“Torches, potions, proper weapons if we can find them” Jaheira went on, ignoring the complaint. And most of all, information. We will check the shops, the tavern, and especially this carnival that is visiting.”

Savan couldn’t quite believe his ears at that one. “Wait, really?”

“Really.” Jaheira smirked at Imoen’s delighted gasp. “Circuses travel widely. They may have some useful information regarding local troubles.”

“And it’s important t-to support businesses” Khalid added cheerfully.”

“That too.” Jaheira smiled at him affectionately. “So! Eat well. Get an early sleep. For tomorrow there is a great deal to do.”

The rest of the evening was much as Jaheira had suggested. They had finished their evening meal and headed for bed. Given that the Nashkel inn was so empty, they decided to pay for separate rooms. Jaheira and Khalid would share their own while Imoen and Savan each got a separate room to themselves.

Savan couldn’t speak to how Imoen spent her night…she might have slept peacefully, or she might have snuck out into the night and gone exploring. But for himself, he just couldn’t seem to drop off to sleep. He tried counting sheep. He did sit ups and push ups to work himself into exhaustion. He tried reciting math lessons and the history of the Sword Coast. But in the end, he was left staring up at the ceiling, hugging his stuffed fox to his side and mulling over the day.

Terror in the mines. Bandits and necromancers. Villains and monsters and a mystery to unravel.

Ogres. His ears twitched and he bared his teeth at the thought of them.

Kill them.

Oh yes, he did look forward to taking a crack at them. Savan found himself hoping that they just happened across the band of thieving giants…

But they weren’t what weighed most heavily on his mind.

Other gnolls. Out west. Waiting in their own fortress, as though daring him to come and check them out. And Savan wasn’t sure how he should feel about them.

“They’re bandits” he mused to himself, “Just like every other flea-bitten jerk who’s tried to stick a knife in me this last week. But then again…” He trailed off and frowned. Splaying his ears out while he tried to imagine what they would be like. Would they look like him? Would they have the same spots? The same ears? The same mane and teeth and laugh? There was something…deeply distressing about that, and he couldn’t quite explain why.

Lifting his stuffed fox up, he peered into the glass bead eyes thoughtfully. “What if it means something?” he wanted to know. “Do you know what I mean?”

Being the sensible sort, the stuffed fox didn’t say anything and encouraged Savan to go on.

“I’ve…never met anyone like me before” he went on, frowning. “And it never really bothered me. Because I had father. And Imoen. The monks. The guards. And you.” He gave the fox an affectionate scritch on the ear. “And now…here they are. A bunch of other gnolls just like me. Or…are they? They’re…thieves. They’re bandits. They’re hurting people. We’re probably going to have to fight them…”

The darkness didn’t answer him. His blood did not sing. And his fox friend stayed steadfastly silent.

“I don’t…want to” Savan said so softly that he almost missed his own words.

But he would have to, wouldn’t he? He had to. To help out Nashkel. To do right by his father. To help his friends. To take care of them as they were taking care of him. Imoen. Khalid. Jaheira. If they decided to get involved with that clan, then he was going to have to as well! Even if…he wanted to know them more…

How could he put that all into words? He could barely make sense of it here with his stuffed fox.

Though at least the vulpine was supportive. Watching him, his felt ears perked up and forward as though telling him that things would be alright. He wasn’t a cub anymore. He could make his own decisions. No matter what the shadows whispered or how his blood sang. No matter what his friends might say. At least that’s how it seemed to him. But what did he know? He was just a stuffed fox, soft and cuddly. So long as he was there to be gnawed upon and held close in times of need, his life was happy and fulfilled.

“Heh.” The corners of Savan’s muzzle tilted up in a smile. “Well, I appreciate you, at least.” Rolling over onto his side, the gnoll held his stuffed friend to his chest and heaved a sigh. It turned into a yawn in the next moment. “I dunno where I’d have been…without you all this time.”

If the stuffed fox had an answer for that, Savan didn’t hear it. That yawn must have been the last push, because his eyes drifted shut, his ears folded back and he felt sleep claim him in the end. With none but his stuffed fox to see him off.

///////

“Graywolf! Sir Graywolf! Over here!”

Heading down the street, Savan heard the man calling out but didn’t pay him any attention. It was a whole new day and there was a lot to do. He didn’t give the man dressed like some sort of scribe calling out in the middle of the town square a second thought, instead making for the road that led to the east side of town. With the Circus of the Last Days in town, there was surely more foot traffic going on in that direction. Which mean that there would be more people that he could interview and get information about the mines, what forces of darkness lurked within, and how he could be better prepared for when they ventured in.

And it had nothing to do with the circus itself, certainly.

But he hadn’t anticipated this man, well dressed but his clothes somewhat shabby with use and holding onto a sheaf of papers bound together, running up to him with an eager expression. “Sir Graywolf! I hadn’t expected to see you here in Nashkel! Still, this is so very convenient!”

Savan paused and peered at the man, huffing and puffing with exertion. Then slowly turned his head and peered back over his shoulder.

Nope. There was no one standing behind him.

Looking back to the man, Savan cocked his head and gestured to himself. “Um…do you mean me?”

“Oh…oh…yes sir!” Sucking in a few deep breaths, the man straightened up and beamed. “There’s a reward that’s come in for you! After that handy bit of business you took care of in the Cloakwood. Good work! You’ve more than earned this payment.” And with that he unhooked his coin purse from his belt and started counting out gold.

Savan blinked a couple times and didn’t know what to say. In fact, the man was just finishing his counting when Savan’s mind caught up with his mouth and he barked in surprise. Startling the man who dropped a pouch full of gold coins to the ground, scattering them all over.

“Wait, wait! I’m…uh…I’m not Graywolf!” he said, getting onto his knees to start picking up fallen coins. “My name’s Savan. I just got into town yesterday! And I’ve never been to the Cloakwood before.”

“You…you’re not Graywolf?” The man blinked at him, surprised and confused. “You’re not Graywolf…and I almost gave you his pay. Helm’s eyes, this…you…oh my goodness!”

He dropped to his knees next to Savan and together they gathered up fallen coins. There sure were a lot of them, and they were at it for a good several minutes, digging coins from between cobblestones and fishing them from weeds.

“Thank you so very much!” The man, who introduced himself as Oublek said with a smile. “Dealing with criminals and ruffians all the time…it jades a man’s soul. It’s good to see that there are still honest people about!”

Savan just shrugged his shoulders and smiled sheepishly. “Well, thank you. Though you can’t be in a very nice business to deal with criminals and ruffians all the time.”

“Ah it’s not so bad. There is plenty of travel to interesting places. Lots of fresh air. And there are lots of interesting people!” With the last of the gold returned, counted thrice and tucked away into his coinpurse, Oublek heaved himself up to his feet, “And I do serve an important role here, so I can’t exactly just decide not to do it.”

“Oh? What do you do?”

“I’m…hmmm…how to explain it.” Oublek waved a hand vaguely as he summoned the words. “I am the vital relations link for Nashkel, at least for now. When adventurers and bounty hunters fulfill jobs then I make sure they receive their proper payment for a job well done.”

“Ohhh!” That made sense. Crossing his arms, Savan smiled. “So, you must hear all sorts of things about what’s going on around Nashkel! The bounties, the bandits, the mines and shtuff like that.”

“That’s right.” Oublek puffed up some with professional pride. “It’s a difficult job but someone must do it!”

“Could I ask you some questions about the bandits and monsters in the area?” Savan wanted to know. “The troubles in the mines. Bassilus the Murderer. The strongholds around here. There’s a lot of trouble going on. And my group and I are looking to make the world a little bit better.”

Oublek arched an eyebrow and peered at Savan closely. The disguised gnoll straightened up unconsciously, aware of his shabby and battered armour and his supply of makeshift weaponry. Looking like a hundred other sellswords that Oublek had seen in his life. But there was something…sincere about him. He found himself liking the young man. After all, he had been honest with him. Cost himself two hundred gold coins even! It would be a shame if he got himself hurt or killed out there.

“Ah certainly!” Oublek beamed and waved Savan on. “Let us go for a walk about Nashkel then, stretch the old legs. And I’ll see if I can answer your questions.”

“Yes sir!” Savan said happily. Falling in beside Oublek, he reflected how heading for the circus had turned out well in the end after all!

///////

‘Have you ever run into any Zhentarim before? Count your lucky stars. Slavers and crooks, all of them. And word is this Bassilus is one of them.’

‘Demons is what they say. I haven’t seen them myself. But I’ve talked to guards who’ve talked to miners who swear up and down that the mines are filled with tiny, yapping demons!'

‘And he’s waiting there just to the southwest of Nashkel. A ranger from Rasheman, as big as life itself and looking to recruit fighters to rescue a witch from the gnoll fort out there!’

Savan snorted to himself at that last one but still made a mental note to investigate when he got the chance.

Oublek had been full of all kinds of rumours and information and had been happy to spend an hour at the inn swapping gossip over a moderately priced ale. He’d been particularly interested in stories of Savan and his friends’ trip south down the road. And though Savan hadn’t thought his minor adventures were very interesting, Oublek had disagreed.

“Forget gold, forget weapons of magic and armour forged by the gods themselves” declared the fussy paymaster, “Information is the greatest of treasures! The more information about the state of the roads that I can gather then the more pressure I can put on my superiors to pay for fine gentlemen like you to go out and fix things! And as such, the world continues to spin, and everybody fills their roles. Bandits get slain, adventurers get to be heroes, and townsfolk get to live in peace.”

Savan didn’t think that he could argue with that kind of logic. So he’d sat back and nursed his tankard and recounted his own small part in the trip down south from the Friendly Arms inn. Being ambushed by hobgoblins practically just outside the inn’s grounds. The angry ogre. How thick the woods had been and how they’d escaped several ambushed through cunning and woodcraft.

“I didn’t do anything special” he confessed, looking down into his empty drink. “I just hit people and stabbed people and killed them. The others did most of the real work.” He bit at his lower lips. Huh. He…sounded cavalier about that. It hadn’t been so long ago that killing someone had made him freak out…

“You made it here alive” Oublek said in not-unkind tones. “That’s more than many can say. Besides, bandit scum don’t deserve your mercy Mr. Savan. They’d have killed you first and taken your boots.”

And again, Savan didn’t think that he could argue with that kind of logic. But wasn’t sure how well he felt about it.

Eventually both of them had needed to get back to work. Oublek had more bounties to pass out. And Savan had more of Nashkel to explore. They had bid each other goodbye, and Oublek had given some last advice.

“If you do head down into the mines then take care. The lower levels swallow people up. I don’t know if the tales of demons are true but there’s something dark going on…make sure you bring light with you. And don’t lose your way!”

That was sound advice. And Savan made a mental note to visit the general store and see what sorts of spelunking supplies that were in stock.

After he made his visit to the circus, of course. He couldn’t very well spend his day without engaging the foot traffic around the circus.

And as grim and forlorn as the good people of Nashkel were, beset by bandits and menaced by monsters, at least some of them had come out of their caves to enjoy the sights and sounds of the circus!

The Circus of the Last Days had been set up in a wide grassy field normally used for farmer markets. Brightly coloured tents rose up into the sky. Music played from mundane instruments and from magical tunes that drifted on the wind. Smells from roasted and spiced meats competed with sugared fruits, buttered grains and cakes. Market stalls lined the dirt paths while advertising food and crafts and games of chance. Even in Nashkel where the townsfolk were wary and frightened a few brave souls had ventured forth to explore the fairgrounds, and as a result the attitude was notably…brighter than in the town proper.

It certainly was different from any place in Savan’s limited experience. A smile tugged at his lips as he trotted down the path, looking to the left then to the right at all the attractions. There were spinning wheels that promised fantastic prizes. Fortune tellers that would read your future and tell you what awaited you, whether romance, wealth or danger. A troop of kobolds dressed in baggy pants and wearing clown makeup staged a pie fight. Illusionists pulled coins from ears, rabbits from hats and made ogres explode with a magical word. There were even cages with exotic animals within, lounging boredly as a dwarven animal tamer extolled their ferocity to some slack jawed onlookers. It was a veritable cornucopia of thrills, chills and delights for the shut in gnoll to see.

With all of this to tempt and tantalise, Savan found himself finding it hard to focus on information gathering.

“Fortunes! Come to me and I will read your fortunes!”

“Test your bonds with your true love!”

“SPIN AKABI’S WHEEL AND WIN FANTASTIC PRIZES, FOOLISH MORTALS!”

It was enough to make a gnoll’s head spin.

Frankly, he was paralysed for choice as he strolled down the road. Taking in sights. Listening to music. He found himself just walking, turning his head this way and that and trying not to get too lost in the moment. It wasn’t every day that you went to a circus for the first time, after all.

“Now, you look like a man who is searching for something special.”

Coming to a halt near the end of the path, Savan paused and peered about. The words came from an elven woman with a big smile, lots of curly black hair and mischievous eyes. Dressed in a flamboyant outfit of black feathers and brightly dyed leather, she doffed her top hat and made a graceful bow before him. “And the circus is filled with so many special sights”, she went on “But I dare say that I have the rarest here! Something you simply must see for yourself…and perhaps you’ll find a bargain within as well!” She nodded towards the purple tent behind her, the flap tied shut to hide its secrets.

Savan peered at the tent then peered at her. He sniffed the air some, catching some odd scents. Herbs. Rose petals. Something almost sweet as well. “Hello” he greeted her politely if cautiously. “Who might you be?”

“Oh where are my manners.” The elf straightened and planted her hat back on her head then waved one hand about to encompass the circus around them. “I am Lucretious! Ringmaster of all you see before you. Necromancer. Bringer o the Night. Wine-lover extraordinaire. It’s a pleasure, darling!”

“Ooh! The ringmaster!” Savan straightened up some and smiled, trying not to look sheepish. “Pleased to meet you! I’m Savan!”

The elven woman raised one eyebrow and her smile widened. “Ahhhh! Such a pleasure to meet a rising celebrity in this day and age!”

“…What do you mean?”

Lucretious answered by reaching into her jacket and pulling out a folded-up piece of parchment. She unfolded it, smoothed it out, and turned it about so that Savan could read it. And she chuckled at the look on his face. “A six hundred and eighty gold bounty! What did you do, burn down an orphanage? Piss in the mayor of Beregost’s garden? I bet there’s a story behind that!”

“I didn’t do anything!’ Savan protested. “I’m innocent!” He looked around him rapidly, poised to flee.

“Oh darling, don’t be so silly.” Lucretious waved a hand airily. “Word spreads. Especially in a travelling circus. But it’s bad for business to go snatching people just because they wind up on a bounty poster! Who would come if they knew they could be snatched up by clowns at any moment?”

That wasn’t a reassuring image. “Uh huh…” Savan peered back over his shoulder, suddenly very ill at ease. His happy and curious mood shot to pieces as he imagined knife wielding assassins from every direction.

“Ahhh, but I see that I’ve upset you…and I can’t be having that!” Lucretious chuckled, not sounding at all sorry in the moment. “What kind of circus woman would I be to leave my audience disturbed and unhappy rather than smiling with a sense of wonder? Here…” She leaned in and crooked a finger towards Savan. “If you’ll show just a moment of courage, then right here in this tent I have something rather unique that I think you’ll appreciate…”

“Something I’ll appreciate…” If the ringmaster was looking to be reassuring, she wasn’t doing a particularly good job… She was making his hackles raise. But as he considered it, Savan couldn’t help but figure that was because someone had taken a bounty out on his head! In the moment, getting out of the open and into the nice, enclosed circus tent didn’t sound like a bad idea to him… Sighing, he huffed at Lucretious and nodded. “Alright… I may as well take a look…” he muttered.

Lucretious grinned like the cat that caught the canary. “Eeexcellent” she murmured and steepled her fingers. “Right this way, good sir Savan!”

Reaching out, the ringmaster took hold of the tent flap and pulled it open. She gestured grandly and with a sigh, Savan ducked his head and stepped in through the doorway.

Then he came to an abrupt halt when he saw what waited for him.

The statue was made of pale grey stone and was wonderfully intricate. Whoever had carved it had done wonders to capture the image of the warrior woman. The headband that kept her long hair from her face. The furs and leathers that made up her clothing and boots. The pendant around her neck depicting a flaming sword. And especially the look on her face. The brows knit, the jaw clenched, teeth bared in a silent snarl…she looked like she was about to spring to life and tear someone’s head off.

In the corner of the tent a kobold in brightly coloured clothing picked up a small violin and began to play some suitably mystical music. Savan didn’t pay him any mind, his eyes wide and caught by the figure. For a moment he felt his blood pounding through his veins and he tensed up himself, hand moving to grab a makeshift club before he could stop himself. Such was how lifelike the statue was before him.

Lucretious certainly had been right about this being something that he could appreciate.

“Come one! Come all!” In the quiet of the tent Lucretious began to put on her show. Gesturing dramatically and trailing red and gold sparks from her fingertips. “Take a look at the stone warrior maiden! How long has she been trapped within this petrified form? Who knows?” Her charming smile showed neat teeth that were just a little too white as she stepped forward, sashaying slowly around the statue. “Could she be a princess from a far-off land, frozen in time? Or maybe a powerful sorceress in search of a handsome concubine? Perhaps a mighty barbarian queen on a quest for sacred relics?”

“I mean, it could just be an ordinary statue…” Savan murmured quietly. If the ringmaster heard she didn’t react.

“There is a way to find out! To discover the answer to this mystery that has no doubt settled in your mind!” Lucretious produced a scroll of parchment bound with leather from up her sleeve and held it out like bait, just out of Savan’s reach. “I have here a magical scroll! The spell upon this scroll will break an enchantment, lift a curse, and dispel damnations…and think, just think how grateful she would be to her heroic and handsome rescue!” The kobold musician played a trilling flourish and Lucretious sent more dramatic sparks swirling through the air! Whirling around the statue and practically dancing on Savan’s nose.

“That’s assuming that we even speak the same language…” Savan crossed his arms as he mumbled more, eyeing the statue speculatively. She really did look upset…

“And what’s more, darling! This scroll? The key to this mystery of a lifetime? It can be yours! For the low, low price of…hmmm.” Lucretious looked Savan up and down. He could practically feel her going through his pockets. “For the low, low price of five hundred gold. Why, you can barely afford NOT to find out!”

Savan turned to stare at her flatly. “Oh really” he growled.

“Really really, dear!” The elf grinned impishly.

It just so happened to be that Savan had some five hundred and a few gold in his money pouch. His share from all the bandits that they had hit and looted all the way down from the Friendly Arms inn to Nashkel. He’d been planning to buy supplies with it. Some good quality weapons. Some rope. Lots of torches.

He hadn’t been thinking of buying a magic scroll to rescue a woman from a statue who was probably just an ordinary statue anyway.

…Oghma damn it.

He glared at the ringmaster while slowly counting out coins from his pouch. She smiled shamelessly the whole time. “I don’t shuppose that you can guarantee this shtatue is genuine? And not some kind of fake.”

“Oh come now darling…this is the Circus of the Last Days!” Lucretious grinned and waved her hand, sparkles flashing through the air while the kobold minstrel played an inspiring tune. “And a circus is the most properly magical thing this silly world of ours can produce! If there were no magic in the circus, nothing to make the people’s faces light up and to make their wildest dreams come true…then what would be the gods bedamned point of it all?”

“Uh huh…well I’m not a wizard or a cleric or bleshed with magicksh.”

“Not to worry, darling! This scroll is designed to be used by anyone! Anyone who can read, that is. All you must do is recite the words to out petrified friend here and presto!” Lucretious snapped her fingers and produced more sparks.

“Lucky me…” Four hundred ninety-eight. Four hundred ninety-nine. Five hundred gold coins. Barely enough left to buy dinner. Savan stared at the nearly empty money pouch and sighed gustily. This had better be worth it, or the others would never let him hear the end of it. He turned over the coins and in return was granted the ‘magical’ scroll. The most expensive scrap of parchment that he’d ever seen. Enougb money to live on for months if you were careful. And the ringmaster was already hiding away the veritable fortune in some inner pocket.

Oh, this had better be worth it…

It was Savan’s first time reading a magical scroll. And even inscribed in such a way that any magicless rube could read it, the gnoll felt a shiver of power run down his spine as he pronounced the words. So the scroll was real at least! Or had real magic in it. Maybe it would work out in the end after all? He could only hope.

Was it just him? Or was the white stone of the statue taking on a gleam of its own?

Did it move just the slightest bit? Or was that his imagination?

Did a triumphant music begin to swell in the enclosed tent? …Yes. But that was that kobold with his violin.

But the way those eyes hardened. The snarl that twisted the mouth. The way that her legs tensed as stone retreated over the woman’s body, leaving behind cloth and leather, skin and hair. The blonde hair that suddenly fell in her face now that it was no longer of stone and the shuddering breath that was sucked through lungs suddenly free to move. None of that was his imagination!

Holy hell. The ringmaster hadn’t been playing him for a fool after all!

Then the woman in stone hurled herself at him, roaring in fury, “TRANZIG!!!” And she was on the surprised Savan all at once, hands grabbing for his face and bowling him backwards onto the ground! “YOU TREACHEROUS BASTARD!” Before he knew it she was on his chest. Grabbing him by the hair. And then the punches came. The first one cracked against the side of his jaw. The second landed on his nose. And maybe it was the sunburst of pain that exploded in his head then, but his body decided to react at last.

Pulling his leg under her, Savan kicked hard and forced the stone woman away from him just as she grabbed at his face. She staggered back while he clambered to his feet and spat words at him. He didn’t understand the language but by the ferocious look on her face they were not friendly. Crouching low, she swung something sharply at him, left, right, nearly striking him in the nose with it.

Pulling himself up to his full height, Savan laid his ears back curled his lips back over his teeth, sucked in a deep breath and ROARED at her! The tent shuddered around them as he let out all the sudden frustration he was hit with. Five hundred gold. A fortune spent to help a stranger in need. One who’d decided she would rearrange his face! And a bounty on his head, worth more than what he’d already spent! Today had started out so well too…now here he was, nose dripping blood, jaw stiff and just pissed off. Roaring felt good…he spit his anger and pain and frustration out at the stone woman, and he felt free of all those damn problems for a moment or two.

Now he just had to hit something, and he’d feel just perfect…

“By Tempus!” The stone woman cursed and stepped back, fists up and prepared to fight. “What beast did Tranzig send for me? Stay back! Or I’ll send you back to your master without a head!”

“What…the Hellsh…are you talking about?!” Savan bit his lip to keep from yelling, glaring at the woman. “I don’t even know who you are!”

”You don’t fool me!” The woman bared her teeth and raised her hand, brandishing what she had nearly struck him in the face with. “I know his sorcery when I see it! Or do you dare claim otherwise?”

Savan focused his eyes on what she held in her hand and his heart nearly stopped. It was a mask. A simple white mask meant for covering the upper half of the face. He grabbed at his face instinctively and sure enough…he felt his muzzle, his snout, his ears and his spotted fur.

She’d grabbed his mask. She’d seen his face. And there was a bounty on his head.

Kill them.

“Alright, alright darlings.” Ringmaster Lucretious took that lull in the action to step in between the pair. Her hands raised, a big, ingratiating smile on her face. “Let’s settle down. Take a deep breath. No destroying my property.” Her tone turned soothing and the kobold playing the fiddle switched to playing a soothing lullaby. “You both seem to have got off on the wrong foot here…so let’s not do anything silly. Perhaps…some introductions are in order?”

For a moment there was silence. The stone woman and the gnoll stared at the ringmaster, and Lucretious just smiled back. “Just breathe in…then out. Like this!” She took a deep breath, held it in, then let it out slowly. Then took a few more all dramatically.

It…just seemed to suck the tension out of the room. The stone woman clearly struggled to stay furious, but the absurdity was…just too much. Staring at Savan, she tilted her head and frowned. “You…truly aren’t one of Tranzig’s servants?” she asked, and for the first time Savan noticed the accent. Something thick that was unfamiliar, but it didn’t sound like she came from the Sword Coast.

“I…don’t even know…who Tranzig is” Savan told her, fighting to keep his own accent in check. He snrrked, feeling blood trickle from his nose and slowly stretched his hand out, palm up. “Please…give that…to me…I need it…”

The stone woman eyed him suspiciously. Her lip curled. Her shoulders tensed and so did Savan, preparing to duck. Then she slowly extended her hand out, offering him his mask back. And she watched him closely as he snatched it back and fitted it over his face, sighing as the magic fell into place.

“You are NOT one of Tranzig’s servants…” The stone woman slowly let her fists lower, regarding him with curiosity and perhaps something like chagrin. “They are all killers and hunters. And you…I don’t know what you are yet.”

“Well…I don’t know who you are either.” Savan snrrked loudly and touched a hand to his nose, feeling blood drool over his lip. “But you hit pretty hard. Maybe…we try starting with names? I’m NOT named Tranzig. But my name is Savan. Or Snapper. That’s alright too.”

“Hm. I am Branwen. I have no nicknames. But I…I suppose that I owe you thanks.” The stone woman…Branwen ahem’ed some and cautiously took a step toward him. Savan managed to not flinch back. “It was Tranzig, a wretched mage who turned me to stone in the first place. I may have stood there for an eternity if not for you…”

Savan snrrked again, gingerly touching his nose. But he nodded, mollified some. “Think nothing of it. It was only money. And my nose.” Almost all the money he had in the world, in fact…but he tried not to think about that part. He crossed his arms and cocked his head, studying Branwen now that she was flesh and blood. She really didn’t dress much like anyone he’d met before. He couldn’t place her accent. And she didn’t seem any better equipped than he was. “You’re…not from this part of the Sword Coast, are you?”

“I don’t even know where I am!” Branwen snorted and planted her hands on her hips. “I am a travelling cleric of Tempus, from the isles of Norheim! I came down to the Sword Coast for adventure and glory! To fight alongside mighty warriors and forge my legend.”

“And instead, you ran into this…Tranzig?” Savan guessed.

Branwen didn’t answer. Now that she wasn’t punching him in the face, Savan thought that she didn’t look much older than he was…

He made a split decision then. “So…would you come back to the inn with me?” Branwen’s eyebrows shot up and he hurried to explain. “I mean I have friends there! And we’re supposed to meet up there today, and maybe we could help?” He waved a hand vaguely, looking for the words. “At the least, we could tell you where you are.”

“Are you suggesting that I am helpless and should accept your charity?!” Branwen demanded as though he had just suggested she do something exceptionally crude.

“…No?” The gnoll snorted and huffed, starting to get annoyed. “If you want to stay in this tent the rest of your life, go ahead.”

They glared at each other. Fortunately, the moment was broken by ringmaster Lucretious.

“Darlings, darlings…as interesting as this has all been, and as marvelous as it has been to see this mystery resolved, and as much as I could watch you silly young ones flirt and show off and beat your chests until one of you swoons…” Lucretious’ grin was wide and vulpine as the gnoll and cleric rounded on her, sputtering. “But I DO have a carnival to run. So, I’ll have to ask you both to move along now. Do feel free to enjoy the rest of our attractions though!”

Savan and Branwen shared an annoyed look…that held just a hint of sympathy for their situation. They COULDN’T enjoy the rest of the attraction! She didn’t have any money. And he had spent all his money on her. All that they could really do was leave. And in that case, they might as well go to the inn and see what happened next.

“Hm. I suppose that you did do me a good turn” Branwen said slowly, biting her lip at each careful word she chose. “And while I will not accept charity…perhaps I can assist you in your own endeavours.”

Savan nodded slowly. “Then it can’t hurt to give it a try. Shall…we go?”

“Yes. Lead me to this inn.” Branwen’s eyes narrowed and she pointed at him. “But if you intend to take advantage of me…”

“Then you’ll break my nose the rest of the way, I get it.” Savan rolled his eyes…she certainly was the dramatic type. “Alright, come on. Let’s go before the ringmaster turns us into frogs or something.”

“Oh darling, I never would!” Lucretious laughed out loud. “You are paying customers, after all!”

“Right…”

Just leaving the tent proved a little bit tricky. Neither of them was quite willing to turn their back on the other, and they wound up sort of squeezing themselves out the tent flap together, eyes on each other and expecting another blow. Once they did slip out into the open again, ringmaster Lucretious let out a gusty sigh and shook her head.

“Good grief. I was starting to think I’d have to push them out myself. Ahhh dear. Young people…” She glanced down to the kobold and arched an eyebrow. “I told you! I knew that someone would by that petrified girl sometime.”

The kobold tilted his head quizzically and strummed at his violin.

“Well no, I didn’t expect a disguised gnoll with a bounty on his head to be the one” she admitted. “Now, back to work! No more playing mysterious background music here, at least until we can get a new statue.”

More violin music followed, slightly more sarcastic sounding.

“Don’t get smart with me! There are plenty of basilisks around these parts. And no shortage of fool adventurers. Something will come up!” She rolled her eyes and fanned herself with her hat. “Smart aleck kobold…”

///////

As it turned out, the others took it rather well. On the way back to the Nashkel Inn Savan had done little but dwell on the fact that he’s spent all his money and not brought back any of the supplies or gear he’d intended to. His armour was still slashed and torn and patched. He was still armed with a heavy tree branch slung over his shoulder. And he’d bought no torches or lamp oil or rope or anything else that would be useful underground. He’d had all those chores to do, and he’d barely got anything done. Keeping an eye on Branwen and being aware that she was keeping an eye on him didn’t help matters at all. So, by the time they slipped through the front door into the inn Savan was a bundle of nerves.

Fortunately, he had the best friends in the world.

“You were petrified? Wow! That’s amazing! Did you…sort of sleep through it all? Or did you relive everything you went through? Are you tired? Hungry? Do you have a stiff neck?”

Imoen had been excited to meet ‘the maiden in stone’ and immediately attached herself to the confused cleric’s side. She didn’t quite go for scratching her ears but had been all too happy to start recounting their group’s small adventures and how they’d been devastating the bandit population all along the Sword Coast! Sure, there was some embellishment. But Branwen seemed to appreciate the bloody tales and loosened up considerably, even admitting that yes…she was suffering from a stiff neck.

“Nothing that limbering up again won’t fix” she assured Imoen, even smiling a bit.

“Our f-finances are a b-bit stretched…but thankfully I s-saved more than I expected. We’re not doing b-badly, and it’s just m-money after all.”

Khalid had been practical. Encouraging. He’d done some mental math, adding and subtracting money that they’d all had and setting that against the costs of supplies for rearming and re equipping themselves. At the end of the day, he’d pointed out, they could rough it in the woods if they needed to, and it was more important to tend to the unexpectedly resurrected cleric rather than send her out into the world unarmed and helpless. Naturally Branwen bristled at the thought of accepting charity…though she did have to admit it was rather late for being choosy about accepting such help.

Jaheira…she was the quickest to assess the situation. She didn’t interfere with the others or speak up. She let Imoen chatter happily and make Branwen feel welcome, while Khalid considered their finances and determined that they would be alright. She regarded Savan as he picked despondently at some bread and laid a hand on his shoulder, smiling encouragingly. Then she cleared her throat and nodded to the cleric. “Branwen. You say that you came south along the Sword Coast for adventure and glory?”

“I did, yes.” Branwen nodded, in the middle of a small scuffle with Imoen. She’d managed to get an arm around the smaller girl and was holding her in a headlock while she flailed about. No punching her in the nose at all…hardly fair. “My circumstances have changed but my goal remains!”

“Indeed. I think that I have a way for you to get back on track to following your goals.” Jaheira steepled her fingers together and leaned forward. “I would suggest to you, that you have found the adventure and glory that you were seeking.”

That made the young cleric pause and enabled Imoen to squirm her way to freedom. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure that you’ve noticed that Nashkel is a city in trouble.” Jaheira waved a hand around the inn commons showing how little business there was. “There are monsters in the mines. Bandits all along the road. An iron shortage through the whole region.” She smiled and nodded at Savan. “Not to mention the warriors involved. You will see their stories unfold. Watch them rise in the world. And witness their legends being made.”

Savan caught himself before he could look over his shoulder to see who Jaheira was talking about.

Branwen didn’t seem particularly impressed either. “What exactly are you proposing?”

“Only this. That the danger in the mines will be great. That we would benefit greatly from a warrior-priest of Tempus to fight alongside us. That we will pay to equip you before we go in. And that you will get a cut of the reward money.” Jaheira steepled her fingers lightly. “We do not expect you to take charity, after all.”

“Hmm.” Branwen shot a sidelong look at Savan. “Perhaps this group COULD do with a strong warrior role model.”

“Heeey!” Imoen pouted and crossed her arms huffily. “Snapper saved your hide!”

Branwen ignored her. “But how do I know that I can trust you all?” she asked. “I have been betrayed before!”

“Yes…by this Tranzig? Who cursed you to begin with?”

Branwen’s cheeks flushed and she balled a fist in anger. “Tranzig…” she hissed. “When I first stepped into the region, I looked to sell my services out to worthy warriors. Tranzig was the most persuasive of those I spoke with. The wizard promised battle and glory and tales for the ages! Instead…instead he led us to shame…” She banged her fist on the table, then had to scramble to catch her glass when it was nearly knocked over. “There were other men and women that Tranzig had hired, and he led us all down the roadway from Baldur’s Gate. Hunting bandits, he said. And I believed him! When a caravan of unarmed merchants passed us on the road…”

Branwen fell silent for a moment and grit her teeth, overcome by great emotion. Savan watched her silently, unconsciously leaning forward and gripping the tabletop.

“The others in our group drew their weapons on the merchants” Branwen said at last. “I confronted Tranzig. I was furious at him! And he laughed in my face! Called me naïve and stupid… And then began to cast a spell. I lunged at him. And then…”

Branwen fell silent again. Nobody spoke. Gradually Savan became aware that he was leaving claw prints in the table. With some effort he pried his fingers free and flexed his hands. Balled one into a fist and lightly punched her on the shoulder.

“Then team up with us to fix whatever’s wrong with these mines” Savan said firmly, “And we’ll help you find Tranzig. It’s the right thing to do, and- ow!”

After looking surprised, Branwen narrowed her eyes and punched him back, her fist cracking against his shoulder. Not so lightly. “What did I tell you about charity?!” she barked, then yelped when Savan struck her again.

“That’s why I said you help us first! I’m trying to- hnngh!” Savan grunted as another punch cut him. He bared his teeth and broke into a growl.

Jaheira sighed and shook her head. “Children. Settle down. We can decide who is the fiercest another time.” She waited until she was certain that the cleric and the gnoll weren’t going to break into a proper brawl, and when no more fists were thrown she smiled wryly. “But Savan isn’t wrong. It’s not charity. Think of it as…payment for services rendered. And it sounds like this Tranzig is part of a larger problem. It would only proper to help track him down.”

Savan grinned then. “I’ll hold him down. You punch him out.”

For a second Branwen looked like she would punch Savan out again… But in the end, she frowned. Chewed her bottom lip. Looked around herself at the group she had fallen in with. Really looked. At the professional and capable warriors in Jaheira and Khalid. At the mischievous Imoen who was sneaking away bread sticks and hiding them on her person. And then at Savan. The mask that hid his face. Someone inhuman. But who’d freed her from that wretched statue.

“I don’t have any equipment with me” she said reluctantly. “If we are to go into the mines, then I’ll need weapons and armour.”

“We’ll have to make another t-trip to the blacksmith in the morning anyway” said Khalid, mentally counting out their coin. “We’ll equip you then. If y-you’ve made your decision?”

“Then…” Straightening herself up, the young cleric took a breath and clapped a fist over her heart. “I am Branwen Hammerhelm, daughter of Rowe Hammerhelm. Cleric of Tempus and warrior of Norheim. I will join you in your battles as you join me in mine, and together we will earn glory and honour. Skalds will tell tales of us until we rise up into the stars themselves to sit with the gods and tell the tales ourselves. So this I swear, Tempus hear me!” She banged her fist on the table for emphasis, clattering dishes and mugs about.

Savan nodded and smiled. “Then let it be so!” he declared and banged his own fist on the table, knocking over a mug.

“Let it be so!” Imoen chimed in and enthusiastically struck the table next.

Khalid looked to Jaheira. He smiled sheepishly and shrugged, then banged his fist on the table next to the others. “L-Let it be so!”

It was quite a sight. And Jaheira sighed gustily. She even managed not to laugh, though her husband spotted the smirk that she hid behind a hand. “Very well then. So we have an agreement. Tomorrow we shall make final preparations, then go down into the mines together. In the meantime, I’d suggest that we get some rest. It has been a long day.”

That it had. Leaning back in his seat, Savan went over everything that had happened. The circus. The bounty hunting coordinator. Not to mention Mayor Ghastkill. And getting punched in the face more than once. He huffed noisily and rolled his head on his shoulders. “Adventuring is tiring work…”

“Hm. Just wait until we get into the mines” Jaheira cautioned. “That will make the rest of this seem like a vacation.”

She smiled to him. And Savan felt the last of his unease fall away. He slumped back in his chair and let a smile crawl across his muzzle while he listened to Imoen heckle Branwen, Branwen bristle indignantly and Khalid play the peace maker for the both of them. Nobody cared about the money. More than he’d ever see before in his life. All gone. Spent. And…they didn’t mind. It was just money. They didn’t hate him for spending it all. And they still wanted him around.

This feeling of warmth surged into his chest. The kind that he got when thinking about Gorion. When his father had held him close. Let him gnaw on his hand. Or when Imoen played with his ears and scratched them just the right way. It felt…good. Like he wasn’t alone, no matter how bad it could get.

Adventuring really was tiring work. But…his friends would back him up. And he would protect them.

If they stuck together, then just how bad could these cursed mines be?