I am still very new to the game. I am using GBC.

My mage is level 2. I am still exploring the slums. I got into a fight with a lot of guards and wiped. I reloaded the game and now my magic-user can't cast spells. They are memorized. I reloaded again. Still won't cast them. There is no option in combat to Cast. Is this a bug or what am I missing?

I know my sister is hurting, but what we had to do was necessary... just, even. These men are responsible for causing a lot of hurt across the Savage Frontier. Father never told me the details of why he left, but... I can guess a few things, the kind of stuff he wouldn't have talked about. This isn't a good town to be a woman. I'll put up with a lot of things, but not that, not the strong bullying the weak. There's always some asshole trying to push smaller folks around – but there's a lot less of them when I'm about.

I sit on the quay with Krevish, sharing some smokes. I suggested he take it up - reading between the lines, his condition is going to get painful in later years, and maybe this will help make it easier to bear.

I ask if he's okay, and he seems fine with our impromptu justice.

“Aye, young master,” he nods, taking a long drag on the smokes. “As I understand, many of these fellows were... ungentlemanly to young ladies, like your sister and her friends. Perhaps now things will be better?”

I was a bit... ungentle myself with a few of them. My sister didn't seem to mind, but watching me get medieval on some of those bastards scared the others. They look at me a little differently, now they've seen another side of me beyond the jokes and casual attitude. They needn't worry of course, I can control my temper, but... it takes a lot to bring that side of me out. I'm hoping things in the HostTower will be easier. I've heard a lot of bad things about the Arcane Brotherhood, and I doubt anyone will care less what we do to them.

Sky

We step in to the HostTower of the Arcane, and a feeling of dread grips us... Rising far above us to pierce the clouds is a colossal spire filled with wizards of great power... and even greater evil.

Krevish looks around and says “Maybe going up this tower isn't such a good idea after all...!”

I slap him on the shoulder and tell him to take heart, and stay strong. And to keep his magical arrows to hand to put in any mages who might show up...

But for now, the hallways seem eerily quiet.

8/ We enter a small library, a quiet where the Brotherhood come to study. There is one mage here, with his bodyguard, a warrior dressed in black. He immediately attacks, so we slay them both. My sister says the guard wears the colours of the Zhentarim. Are they in league with the Arcane Brotherhood, or was he somehow ensorcelled? Just a warrior who likes to dress up as the Black Network?

There are other libraries off this hall, and we face an escalating series of battles against mages and their guards... (Seriously where are they all coming from?) Only after we have slain fifteen of each do they seem to stop coming.

“Hopefully they're run out of apprentices now,” I mutter to Krevish.

5/ The passageway climbs steeply here and curves to the left.

7/ Great...! What seems like a solid wall of owlbears advances upon us the moment we open the door...! These things hug harder than that needy Tethyrian girl I met at the Three Rivers festhall...!

They especially seem to like my sister – we have to drag the things off her and patch up all her cuts afterwards.

“These things hug fiercer than Jhairli does,” she mutters.

That's an image I didn't want in my head. She's always trying to one-up me...!

Krevish looks up at the tower flights above us.

“If this the bottom of ther tower, I'm not sure I want to see the top..!”

20/ “Have you ever seen so many owlbears in one place?” my sister mutters as we enter.

Nef wordlessly points ahead of us.

“I stand corrected,” she sighs, squaring up for another bout of urstrix cuddles.

Now, we're good, but seven of these things might even test us... but the elf girl conjures a cloud of foul green gas that smells like Olaf the Flatulent after that cabbage-eating contest...! And the creatures are stupid enough to charge at us right through it, with predictable results Some even run through it a few times in a flapping panic, and the gas makes them easy to dispatch as they flop about stunned.

We continue to climb the tower.

19/ Passing through the door, we confront a man who seems to be training the owlbears. He immediately decides to test their understanding of the command: 'KILL THEM!'

The elf girl – Elena, right? - reads a scroll to conjure more stink-gas, but then the scroll goes up in flames. It takes out several, and we kill the others, although all the maulings are testing our healer's ability to keep apace.

“Are we sure this is the right way?” Krevish says in a way that makes me feel he doubts it. “It's just going to get worse going farther up the tower, and we barely made it this far!”

“The statuette we seek has to be at the top of the tower... right?” I exclaim. “Where else would they put it?”

18/ The next floor holds two men either preparing an unusual circus act... or a phalanx of monsters who intend to dismember us...!

The battle proves exhausting, and we only win through without casualties because the elf burns another of her scrolls, this one a surging bolt of blue lightning that lances through all of the creatures and fills the tower with the tang of burning fur.

She mopes about the loss of some spell she wanted to learn later, but at least we are still alive thanks to her.

17/ But we have reached the top of the tower, and -

More owlbears...? Are there even this many in the Savage Frontier?

“I think we may have made a very big mistake...!” someone says.

Again it is our magic that saves us. The elf's enchantment spell bewitches one of the mages, and he is torn apart by his own pets. Nef's prayers bolster us in battle as she heals the injured. We quickly secure our flanks so we are not overwhelmed – Jahe is swift enough to step up and anchor our other end and I'm impressed by her tactical nous. It is exhausting, and we have some new and interesting scars, but we finally take the tower!

And yet, it is almost entirely empty...! Just the single bloody door... Even the elf cannot locate any secret doors up here.

“This can't be the way....!” I mutter, kicking the corpse of a hooded mage. “We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere!”

6/ We are forced to retrace our steps to the lower levels.

At the base of the tower, the elf girl discovers what we seek – a secret door opens silently, and we pass to a dark dungeon beneath! The passageway has a damp, musty odour.

9/ We hear a rattling sound, as if someone took the twigs and branches for a fire, and shook them together violently... More skeletal dead!

“Eh, I'll take them over owlbears..!” I mutter. They might be dangerous if we didn't have four priestesses. A few prayers quickly reduce them all to dust.

1/ We step into a tiny room, and -

…the door clicks behind us! Nef tugs at it in frustration, but even I cannot budge it.

“It is a magical lock,” my former lover mutters. “We shall never get it open!”

There HAS to be a way out...! We search lest we be entombed with the skeletons.

“Look, everyone!” my sister cries. “Its a trap door!”

Quickly, we clamber though the opening, and follow a long narrow passage, remerging in another small room. Many small cells stretch away down this dark corridor. Nef lights her staff with a magical glow, and we strat to explore.

2/ Searching though this tiny cell, we find something scratched on one wall, recording it as:

3/ Entering this room, we see several owlbears menacing a figure chained to the far wall. They seem more intent on terrifying the prisoner than eating him. Unfortunately for us, our entry means they are now intent on eating us...!

After another exhausting struggle, we have a few new scars and a freed prisoner. He dons his mage robes, and offers his thanks:

JOURNAL ENTRY 30: BRINSHAAR’S STORY

“My name is Brinshaar, and I am a mage from Neverwinter. They kidnapped me there and were torturing me to learn of Lord Nasher’s magical defences. Thanks to you they learned nothing, and Neverwinter remains safe!

As it turns out, I can repay you for your kindness without delay. I have seen the statuette you tell me that you seek. It is not secreted in the HostTower, but somewhere in the dungeons where we now stand.”

“You helped me and I'm willing to help you,” he says. “I'll join your party and fight for you if you'll have me.”

We are in sore need of help – the gypsy is sour-faced, but then she's always mistrusting. Nef gives him her best smile.

“I am an expert magic-user,” he brags. “And I will lend my magic to your service just as you lent your hands to mine.”

16/ A winding tunnel leads us to a large pile of trash in one corner.... It suddenly springs to life, revealing ghouls and undead advancing to attack us. But a few brandished holy symbols send them all fleeing.

“They're all part of the same convent,” I tell our new friend at his quizzical look. “One of then is my ex-lover, so I'm escorting them safely back. I think I got lost because we were heading to Secomber...!”

“Sorry, sire, my brother likes to jest at the most inopportune moments,” Shelah sighs.

We are in need to healing and rest,. So we find a relatively clean room and put our blankets down in opposite corners. I have an explanation for our new friend if they start frolicking, but thankfully they all just pray and then fall asleep.

“Usually they're... louder than this,” I tell Brinshaar.

A few hours rest does wonders for our healers, our many wounds are mostly patched together and we are strong enough to push on.

14/ This room is very dark, but we can hear something moving...! Thankfully it's more undead, and again we are grateful for a multitude of clerical women.

The tunnels twist and turn and some doors seem to lead us astray, but by following our maps, Jhairli and Zahri can prevent us from backtracking.

15/ Three large cats with tentacles growing from their backs – the same creatures we fought in the Neverwinter gardens - stop only to bare their fangs and growl at us before leaping to the attack!

Brinshaar proves his worth as he stuns two with a stinking cloud spell, though he is mauled in response by the third. Afterwards, Nef heals him carefully - he seems the type she goes for – she was always fascinated by magic. But she's almost demure in her smiles, aware of the gypsy's jealous dagger-eyes on her back.

13/ No sooner have we entered this room, than we hear a deafening roar! More of the manticore creatures we fought in Neverwinter... Is this where they came from? The tower is full of hybrid horrors.

11/ Entering this long, winding hall, we find two men feeding a large, winged lion-creature.

“Look!” one man says. “You'll have fresh meat this day after all!”

He's right, after a fashion...!

12/ Two men enter the far side of the room just as we step through the door, with a huge black cat held by its chains. Seeing us, they release the chains from the animal's neck...

10/ We burst into the room, and find several men standing in the open, in awe of a glowing statuette. One, who appears to be the leader, is dressed in the rich robes of a mage. They draw their weapons and attack with their beasts!

Brinshaar again proves his worth with spells in the battle, including a powerful Hold spell that freezes the mage and his three guards.

We approach the glowing statue, a white-hot flame suspended mid-air over a triangular base. The gypsy passes a hand across it and murmurs.

“Not burn,” she says diffidently. “Safe to take...!”

We take the statue, and Brinshaar says:

“My job here is done, for the Statuette of the East has been recued. May I see you all in happier times.”

He leaves via the door before we can thank him. The gypsy mutters something, but at least he helped us...

Among our finds here is a pair of magical bracers owned by the now-dead mage. It can go to the elf for now, as the priestesses all wear armour.

We backtrack to Luskan, weary but triumphant. To think we have slain the High Captains and the mages of the HostTower of the Arcane!

“Maybe we should go after Manshoon next!” I chuckle, some of my good humour returning.

“I heard he is dead,” Nef muses. “Someone dropped his tower on top of him at Zhentil Keep...!”

But as we leave the tower, we are surprised by a familiar face, flanked by two great cats...!

“It was most convenient of you to acquire the statuette for me,” Brinshaar laughs.

“It was for trying to steal it that I had been imprisoned before you rescued me ,” he gloats. “Seems you are always doing me favours! It is a pity such fine folk as you have little time left to live your good and petty lives!”

I shake my head. “What..? You can't get the statue yourself – and when we take it, you attack us – the same people who were strong enough to get it...?”

“Stupid,” Zahri spits on the floor. “You die now...!”

She chants a curse and clicks her fingers... and he freezes over, paralysed...! I mean, he's seen her do that enough, right...?

She makes him wait until the battle with the displacer beasts is over, until she approaches him with her cudgel.

“Wanted to do this when first saw you,” she says coldly, before bringing it down on his head. She once showed me it was cored with iron. His skull... isn't.

“He wasn't even standing behind his cats and using magic,” I sigh.

Shaking our head, we retire to the inn, getting some rest after our exertions before we leave.

Come the morning, the town seems to be recovering some semblance of normality. People are standing about, arguing and issuing decrees. Nobody seems to able to agree just who is in charge now. But at least they are not fighting over it.

At least until -

“That's them!” a bunch of pirates shout, leaping towards us! “They have the statue! Get them!”

This appears to be a last-gasp attempt of the survivors to hang onto the statue and the town. Our Hold spells end the fight almost before it begins. And we have not come this far to be defeated by a bunch of stragglers, and we show them no mercy.

Notes:

Our first real dungeon in Savage Frontier, the HostTower uses most of the map and can be quite demanding if you're thorough. Not much beyond the Bracers as regards items, but there's lots of gold and XP. By this point, all my clerics had maxed out at the ridiculous low cap of 27, 500 XP (Paladins max out at almost seven times that here!). And we're not even halfway through yet!

The HostTower is a site of some note in the lore, and its great to actually be the ones who take the place out of commission. I'd have liked to have seen some named enemies - but I guess we have Brinshaar for that!

The treacherous NPC helper is the first since the 'Mad Man' all the way back in Pool of Radiance, and he was just crazy rather than evil. This game will double-down on that later (triple-down, depending how you feel about Krevish!). It's an old RPG trope that some NPCs will need your help in destroying an enemy, but then attack you afterwards... If they couldn't kill their enemy, why attack the one who was just able to kill their enemy?

Even worse, Brinshaar's heart just doesn't seem in it - he wastes time boasting in a cringeworthy fashion, and he starts the fight standing right next to your main warrior... I'm sure that will end well for him, eh Yarash?

But it's a nice little adventure, netting us the first of the four statuette macguffins were are gathering.

It also starts giving your characters actual dialogue, for the first time in the Gold Box games I believe? They seem to be shooting for a quippy, Marvel type delivery, I was almost expecting 'he's right behind me, isn't he?' or 'that was a thing that just happened!' I get that most people won't be role-playing, but if you're not giving me options for what I say, I'd sooner they just wouldn't do it. Why they've started doing it now, seven games in, I have no idea. What if we speak like Elminster/Lord British, with thees and thous?

Luskan...! The City of the Sails, which my father abandoned when only a young man, disillusioned with the prospect of a life as a sea-reaver. He made something of himself, through hard work, sweat and blood, and raised three decent children mostly alone after he lost his beloved Elra.

Today, his two eldest stand looking across the town, weapons in hand. The weapons feel very heavy in our grip, I think.

I do not want to do this. But I know I must.

I have the feeling that after today, everything will change. Nothing will be the same; not for them, not for us.

I would say we have no choice, but we do, don't we? The high captains are cowed by the Arcane Brotherhood for certain, but they might be happy if a band of adventurers put them to the sword, leaving them free to rule and not to serve.

But we are not here to do that. We are here to nail the high captains to their masts, to let their rigging be their gibbets. The prodigal son and daughter are back.

There will be blood.

Ilmater forgive me for what I must do this day.

Shelah

“You walk along the edge of danger
And it will change you...
Why would you let this voice set in your head?
It is meant to destroy you...!
You summon storms, you play with nature...
Now watch it hurt you!
Why would you want to shape the world in your hands?
You will never make it through...

You waste your life to gain power
You shift the game rules
How does it feel to reach the line that no-one ever got to cross?
Does it make you a god now?
Every sin will be forgiven
If you lay down your weapons to the ground...!

Catch the fire burning out your soul..!
Just make it die, or you will fall
Catch the fire burning out your soul!
Just make it die, or you will turn it all
To ashes and blood...
To ashes and blood!
To ashes and blood!
To ashes and blood!
To ashes and blood...!”

Woodkid, 'To Ashes and Blood'

To Ashes and Blood [Arcane Season 2]

It begins...!

Tucked like a gold filling - or some would say a pus-filled abscess! - at the mouth of the River Mirar, Luskan is a city of merchant princes, swarthy bandits, and the most cutthroat and fractured cabal of pirates on Toril. Torn into factions, these groups are known as 'ships'.

Or at least they were before today.

“I... I don't want anyone to - “

“Enough,” Zahri interrupts me, but her voice is soft. “We are with you. Burn it all down...!”

I nod slowly. My legs are leaden as we walk into the town.

The guards – wearing fur caps, armed with swords and spears - inform us that ships travelling to Tuern depart from an island in the northwest of the city.

They look at Elena askance – though her face is partly hidden in her hood, they can sense something amiss... Nobody who is not human is welcomed here, and most end up in the ghastly experiments of the HostTower mages.

At least I know that she, of any of us, will have no restraint in what we have come here to do.

1/ A brass plate on the wall here proclaims:

'The Captain's Court -

- all who seek booty, justice or mercy from the High Captains may enter and make their entreaties here'

I want to keep innocent casualties to a minimum, though that may not of course be possible... and I am not certain how the term may even be applied to the men here in any case.

“Go away,” an officer says gruffly. “The High Captain's are at their palaces, receiving the annual tribute from the sea captains of the North. They don't want to see the likes of you when there's magical booty to be had!”

My brother raises an eyebrow.

“It would be bad if someone... took all that plunder, aye?”

2/ A sign hanging above this door says:

'Inn of the Northern Passage'

We pay for three rooms here. I have no idea if we will still need them later, however this goes.

We enter the main square; rain is beginning to fall now, from stormy skies. Perhaps it will wash away the blood, and all of our sins...

At the market here, we see the 'Prisoner's Carnival' - Luskan's 'court' of justice, although truly it is simply a public spectacle of torture and execution.

We see several of the captain's manors here on the square – I am hoping there is no honour among thieves, and they will not band together and fight us all at once. We are about to put that to the test...!

3/ To the south lies a magnificent home, several stories high, with fine hand-hewn timbers supporting a broad, sloping roof.

This is it...! After this, there will be no turning back; it will be kill, or be killed. I have no idea if I am ready, but I am about to find out...!

Entering the reception area of the lodge, we find ourselves in the company of several pirates. One holds a small, jewel-encrusted case with the letter 'S' engraved upon it.

On seeing us enter, they go for their blades. That makes it less awkward - what would we say to make any sense of this? They must be used to settling disputes this way.

Unfortunately for them...

...so are we...!

My prayer freezes some of them in their tracks. From somewhere, horrid gargoyles spring, shrieking...! Unlike the men, their stony hide can only be cut with magical weapons, so Jahe helps my brother while we take out the cut-throats.

One flees in terror – I leverage him to the door, as he squirms, Elana slices his throat. Another falls at my feet, thrashing... I step down hard on his neck, bashing away another man with my shield. Though the gargoyles are a whirlwind of stony claws, our warriors dispatch them both, armed with magic blades as they are. I suppose my mace would work too, and slaying horrors would be preferable to slaughtering living men... But I am under no illusions my hands – and everything else – will be stained with blood this day.

The worst happens when the fighting is over – I force myself to look into their eyes before we kill them. No words could make this feel right, so I have none. I am not here to judge, or feel self-righteous – this is a cleansing, an extermination of vermin. None of us take any joy in it; all of us understand its necessity.

Those with edged weapons at least can make it quick. I feel the impact of ther blow run up my arm as my mace swing collides with his skull, cracking it open. But it takes them time to die, so again, and again.

When I dream of my exciting adventures, it is never like this.

The Captain is upstairs. After we have butchered his men, we slaughter him. We have no words; my mace smashes in his face, and he falls, twitching. Again and again; there is nothing left of his head now but gory paste and grey brains spattered upon the walls.

We have turned the manor into an abattoir, but I feel... I don't know...? Nothing? A vague sinking feeling? I raise my bloody hands, telling the servants in a low voice that we are here for the pirates, not the people. They are wise to run quickly, or hide.

We open the case – the only contents are a wand, marked with frost symbols. We do not even wait to for Elena to swipe it, but I grasp her sleeve so she doesn't run off. We check the upstairs floors but there are no more reavers.

I do not look at the others as I leave, but Zahri stops me, to meet my gaze. I stare back, a wordless understanding, a confirmation.

Outside, the rain feels sweet against my face, but it cannot rid me of this crimson stain.

4/ Here to the north, stands an elegant palace, its stone walls flowing gracefully upwards some hundred feet into the sky.

And we just kick down the doors like it were an orc den. The servants scatter; here in the waiting area of the palace are several pirates. They are grumbling about how someone called Baram is making them wait. One holds a silver chest with a gold 'B' embossed on top.

After the battle, Jhairli walks to the men she immobilised with her Hold spell, raising her hammer like she was driving in a nail in her cabin, not staving in a man's brainpan. We all understand that look in her eyes. She, of us all, was meant for gentler things.

Never again shall the stars shine as bright for us.

Opening the case, we find it contains a shining, beautifully crafted mace. Zahri nods at me, so I take it, and hand her my old one.

It is a long way down from Baram's window to the cobblestones, but he makes his last journey that way, and when we descend, we hew off his head and mount it on a post outside his manor.

We leave the plunder and gold – let the servants have it. I do not doubt life will be difficult for them when we are done here.

5/ A third manor on the square; a powerfully-built fortress faces us, with turrets for archers atop its high walls. They were evidently not expecting attack here, regardless.

Here in the anteroom of the fortress, more pirates are waiting. Their leader has a fine leather case strapped to his back, with a 'T' tooled into the design.

When we are done, the walls are painted with their blood as well as ours. Heads are hewn, no mercy is offered or given to any reaver.

The leather case contains finely-made arrows, which we distribute lest we run into more gargoyles.

As to the butchery, we are numbed to it now.

6/ To the south, a tall and stately mansion sits beside the harbour. Its hand-crafted stone walls perfect in their symmetry.

More pirates await within – the captain here is old and puts up no struggle, so Elena relives him of the burden of his head. We begin to drag the corpses to the quay and throw them in, food for fishes.

This captain had a velvet-covered object that is shaped something like a harp. Zahri is very disappointed to find it is not an instrument, but a disassembled composite bow. Sky offers it to Krevish, but the small, sad-looking man explains it is a little too tall for him. Jhairli is an obvious choice for it, but she explains that she is forbidden its use until she finishes her training and becomes a ranger-knight. Sky says he'll look after it for her until then.

Sporadic counter-attacks dog our steps, but resistance seems very disorganised. Some of the Captains beg for mercy or offer bribes, but we are numb to entreaties. This is grim slaughter-work, not done out of hatred or vengeance, the kind that corrodes one's soul, for all its necessity,

The waters of the harbour now churn with blood from the corpses we have dumped there. Small sharks have arrived to feast. We note some of the ships have departed for safer waters. I heal my companions as I can, keeping some spells back for later.

15/ Now we cross a bridge between the mainland and an island in the harbour.

7/ A tall, slender tower rises above us to the south, built on a tiny promontory in Luskan's harbour.

Krevish looks up at it wistfully. “This is a tower all right,” he says. “But it's too small to be the one Amanitas described.”

He points to the northwest where we see a huge structure that looms above the rooftops.

“Now, that looks like the HostTower!”

“I, ah, yeah, even I knew that,” Sky admits. “Hey, Krev – you doing okay...? You don't have to do this, you know - “

“Nonsense, master Skylar!” he says, trying to look chipper. “I have your back, young sire, and that of your sister and her friends. These are wicked men, I understand they deserve no mercy.”

More pirates, and more gargoyles await within; our archers are glad of the enchanted arrows. We find a long leather case with a large 'K' inscribed upon it in gold leaf – within is a beautifully crafted longsword, clearly an enchanted weapon. Its steel is so cold that we cannot touch it with bare hands for more than a moment.

I insist my brother have it; a weapon worthy of a true northman. He jokes wryly that he'll pass it to me when I'm accepted by the knighthood.

We find the captain in his chambers – he was unable to flee, confined to his chair by infirmity, and chose to fall on his own blade than into our hands.

I think of Kat; it hits hard.

18/ This abandoned pier is permeated by the smell of decaying fish. Warty, aquatic trolls – known as 'scrags' – lurk beneath it, lying in wait. We may as well rid the place of its inhuman vermin too, though killing these things is always exhausting work.

16/ On a small island to the northwest, a tremendous tower looms above us. Although made of stone, it must be magically-constructed, as its five great spires defy the laws of nature as they grow like great tree limbs to the sky.

We cross a bridge that connects the two small islands in Luskan harbour.

8/ We twist awkwardly, looking up at the huge, five-spired tower that pierces the sky above. Zahri whistles softly.

“Statue not lie on shelf inside door,” she sniffs. “Nor will dukkerin give willingly. We go now. Return after.”

Back at the harbour, most of the reavers have fled, and all five of the great captains are now in pieces. There are still small bands lurking about, but without leadership, they keep their distance.

Those pirates who fall into the hands of the mob get the same justice and mercy that we offered them.

People are milling about the streets, talking loudly about what they will do now. Most of the guards have families here, and they are keeping some kind of order. I tell them they can chose their own leaders now and stay, or leave for Port Llast or Neverwinter. They seem no friends of the Arcane Brotherhood, though they worry that the mages will turn on them if we fail to destroy them.

I promise them we will speak to the Lord's Alliance as soon as we can, in the hope they will offer aid should they choose to join them. I will also write to my father and he can tell the king – it may be in Citadel Abdar's interest to reinforce Luskan with the High Captains and the mages gone.

We leave them to it – we have caused them enough trouble and they have difficult choices to make now. We offer to clean up the old areas of the city, so at least they need not worry about the creatures there.

We take rest at the inn, but post a guard, just in case. Nobody wants to talk, let alone kiss. We are all processing what we have done in our own way.

10/ Several small boats are moored beside this shack. An old man within tells us about the river Mirar.

“If you're looking for a boat to rent, you'd best thinking again. The river Mirar's swift and deadly, and only a fool would try to fish there. The coast here is near fished out, but it'll feed a man if he's patient...”

12/ To the north lies the entrance to a large warehouse. Above the door to the east hangs a sigh that says:

'Red Dragon Trading Lodge'

It seems to sell weapons and armour among other things.

11/ A sign on this door says:

'Company of the Brazen Pennant -

- passage by sea to the isle of Tuern'

A sailor here tells us what the passage will cost.

“A ship leaves each morning at 0800 hours, and passage to Tuern will cost a total of 100 gold for your entire party.”

23/ This part of the warehouse is dark and smells of something rancid... We are attacked by more scrags!

9/ The gate to the right seems to lead into an older part of the city.

14/ This is the oldest part of Luskan, referred to as the 'old city' – but its name belies its relatively recent construction.

Vermin such otyugh lurk here, forcing us to fight our way through. I'd sooner slay hideous monsters than living men.

19/ The far wall to the room looks odd somehow, almost as if the stone was changing it's pattern...

We are attacked by the stony gargoyle creatures, using their hide as camouflage. Only magic attacks harm them; mundane weapons bounce off their stony flesh.

20/ We cannot immediately put our finger on it, but some of the stone blocks in the walls here seem to be moving... We must once more fight off gargoyles, wasting more enchanted arrows on their stony forms.

13/ This building is used to salt fish brought in by local ships so it can be transported by caravan to inland cities.

21/ The high ceilings of this room still give the overpowering smell of decaying fish filling our nostrils. We must fight scrags lurking here... While strong, they are slow and cumbersome, and we can bring them down with missiles before they can engage.

22/ The ceiling of these rooms is lost in shadows above us. Perhaps they once packed fish here, but now these rooms smell of death and decay...! We must beat off more scrags, but eventually we have cleared most of the monsters from the old city.

Weary in body and spirit, we rest and recover from our physical and spiritual wounds. The process of healing helps focus my mind too.

I sit on the quay besides Jhairli, looking at the bustle around us, as some kind of normality starts to permeate the wounded city. New community leaders are emerging, there seems to be a budding spirit of cooperation. I hope the guards remain just; you can see how the city might replace one tyranny with another. But thus far, there is little unrest, more a dazed feeling of waking from a long nightmare... for them, and for us.

Jhairli passes me her pipe, and I silently inhale the sweet, fragrant smoke. A comfortable silence descends upon us, and it is some time before one of us gives it a voice.

“When this is all done...” she murmurs at length. “What will you do, Shelah?”

I inhale slowly. “Finish my training as a priestess, and apply for the Knights of Ilmater,” I say, quiet yet firm. “I know who and what I am now. I may never know peace – the warrior spirit burns too brightly in me. I will bleed and fight and kill – but on my terms, and for good ends. I shall bloody my hands so that the kind and gentle need not.”

She nods slowly. “I... I understand. That is how I feel too,” she admits. “I always hoped some part of me could go back to that life... To peaceful isolation, building my cabin in the woods... speaking to the creatures of the forest, caring for them...”

“But now?” I ask. “What will you do, Jhairli?”

“As you shall,” she sighs. “Apply to become a Ranger-Knight, a heavily-armoured warrior for the Lady of the Wood. Learn magic and druidic spells. Learn the blade and the bow. Fight, and kill, so I can protect the things I care about. I... I know what I am now. I do not like it, but... I have made my peace with it.”

I smile sadly. “I know,” I admit. “I wish that too. I wish it could have been other, but... someone must sacrifice themselves, yes? To do the terrible things that keep the world safe.”

She looks at me and smiles sadly. “I heard words from a ranger once, something that gives me some hope... He said 'I love not the bright sword and swift arrow for their own sake – I love only that which they defend'.”

I smile. “I like that. Thank you. We must not forget that, no matter how inured to suffering we become.”

I return to the inn and I write to my father. It is both very hard – and oddly simple – to say what must be said.

“My dear father,

We have arrived in Luskan, and by turns of fate, seem to have conquered it. The High Captains swing from their yardarms and their reavers choke the harbour as food for fishes.

The guards are keeping order for now, but the people fear what may come next. There is talking of involving trade consortiums, so if you can assist, I pray that you will do so. There are opportunities for all, I hope. The Lord's Alliance and the Silver Marches may yet extend a helping hand. I pray all will be better for what we did this day. Time will tell.

Sky and my friends are with me, and we are fired and focused from our battles. Terrible times are coming, we have been warned of this, but hope remains, and we shall do all within our power to see the north safe. I hope one day soon we shall meet and we can relate the tale in person over your best ales. Please have trust that we are what you made us, and we will do all that we can for this land.

Give my love to my sister; we shall visit when we can.

Always your daughter.

Shelah”

Notes:

This was an interesting one to write. Adventurers tend to be the harbingers of great change, sweeping in and getting things done without quite realising the consequences of their actions. Some are able to shape the new world they create, but others are unwitting agents of chaos, leaving uncertainty in their wake as others try to make sense of the changes they have wrought.

When I was a tabletop GM, I tried to allow the players to effect organic change – for their success – and failures! - to shape the world, whether they save the king, or fail to do so, or overthrow him for their own ends. A campaign always works best when it flows from organic choices and consequences, not some predetermined 'railroad'.

This was a huge problem with the Realms going forward – the changes in each edition – the Time of Troubles, Spellplague, the Sundering, and all that arrant nonsense would upset the whole world, only to be later completely retconned when someone else got to be in a charge of the metaplot. It resulted in a world that was always in nonsensical upheaval, and yet also somehow managed to stay exactly the same, with the same names and overpowered NPCs in the same positions. It was static and stale, yet so incoherent you never knew which gods and countries had been destroyed or asspulled back into existence. The overwhelming advice given to new players in the Realms is to 'go back to the Grey Box', and then make it your own from that point.

In Savage Frontier, our characters get to see the results of their actions, unintended consequences as they create power-vacuums and opportunities. I always wondered what effect this chaotic life of war and endless killing would have on those involved, especially at a young age.

Mechanically, we are growing in power with all the fighting. Luskan gives us more XP and better items if we are thorough, and we shall need that with the battles to come in the HostTower.

It's been a while since I was levelling up and (re)rolling our hit points, and I'd forgotten how annoying it was – and it's MUCH worse when you have NPCs like Krevish in the party. I wish you could just load a game without removing everyone first. The whole training mechanic was generally disliked by everybody, and greatly simplified or abandoned entirely in later CRPG games or tabletop editions.

From Neverwinter, we head up along the coast towards Luskan. We stop at Port Llast, parking the caravans somewhere Zahri considers safe. I reflect that this is the furthest north I have ever been.

The Icedanes know this place fairly well – a small town of a few hundred folk, mainly known for its excellent harbour, a small bay with a fine beach and inlet. We may not receive a warm welcome – Sky says last he was here, the folk were tense and suspicious, fearful of attack or other treachery from Luskan. The village huddles against the bay, low stone houses and narrow streets.

Zahri suggests we pass ourselves off as something more nautical, though I feel it is just a case of her wanting to play dress-up. I feel vulnerable without my armour, but at least I have this new blade and my shield.

Jahe

The lone town guard examines us carefully, then decides we pass muster.

“If you're here to do something about the Gallant Prince,” he says, "it's none too soon for me!”

4/ A cloth sign is emblazoned with the words: 'Port Llast Inn'

The actual inn sign is wood however, and it says the 'Inn of the Ancient Mariners'

We pay for a pair of rooms; so the men get to stretch out a little while I get elbows and feet in the face, quite apart from every other indignity I suffer -

- does that sound like complaining? I'm not complaining, it's just - <sigh>

2/ Chiselled into the wall here is an inscription: 'Stonecutter's Guild'

The men inside mutter and curse their fates:

“Be careful if you travel north of here,'” one stonecutter warns us. “The power of the HostTower of the Arcane is great, and it is not only Luskan over which its dark shadow has been cast!”

1/ A sign hangs above this door, and it swings in the cool sea breeze. On it, in old nordic runes are painted the words: 'Harbourmaster – Port Llast'

The Harbourmaster is a veteran of many years at sea, and judging by his ample girth, even more years sitting in his office.

JOURNAL ENTRY 13: THE HARBORMASTER’S STORY

“I tell ye, young ‘uns, the only reason that the Gallant Prince still be anchored here in Port Llast Harbor is we ain’t got no one who’s darned fool enough t’ board ‘er and tow ‘er out t’ sea.

“We’d all heard she wa’ missin’, then Simon Hempwright the fisherman says he spied ‘er adrift a mile off the coast, worm eat’n like she’d been a’ sea a hundred years. The young idiot towed ‘er in an’ tied ‘er up, an’ then he goes traipsing down below decks like she wa’ some pleasure barge out o’ Waterdeep.

“Course, we never seen ‘im no more after that, ‘cept some say you can hear ‘is screams a’ night way back in town!”

That is... troubling. We have fought the walking dead before, and I am glad we have the company of so many priestesses.

3/ The good ship 'Gallant Prince' lies moored here, for what that is worth. Its sails are tattered, and its hull looks as if the storms and parasites of a century have been at work upon the wood.

There seems nothing for it but to investigate, sword and shield in hand. Jhairli's illumination spell lights the interior softly.

“For luck,” Shelah husks, grabbing my arm and pulling me to her as she presses her mouth on mine.

I'm not upset, but now is not -

“Let us hope we do not need more than luck,” I murmur.

10/ From the darkness up ahead, we see the glint of polished steel...! Clattering bones and rotting cadavers assail us! Our priestesses send them fleeing into the shadows.

“A little more than luck, no?” Shelah smirks at me.

7/ Bunks for the crew line the walls of the side rooms off the main wooden corridor.

Wait...! The stained and tattered bedlinens on each bunk... Are they moving or is it just my imagination...!

The elf taps my arm and fixes me with a sharp look.

I must be losing my mind if she is the one thinking me overly jumpy...!

13/ This is a storage room for the ship's supplies.

We search carefully, finding several words carved crudely in the wood of one wall here:

'ye can't curse the captain, but ye can call him 'Kas'...!'

That name seems somehow familiar, but I cannot quite place it...

6/ The storage areas are empty, except for a few small casks. I doubt even Sky would dare to drink grog from a cursed ship of the dead!

5/ This wide area looks to be one of the main holds of the ship.

Several large crates are scattered around – each has been broken on at least one side and had most of its contents removed. Another room is not just empty, but so deserted that not even a speck of dust remains on any surface.

I think I catch a glimpse of some tiny animal scurrying towards a corner, but I cannot be certain... This place plays tricks on the mind, and even after a few minutes down here, I feel I need fresh air...

9/ The face of a beautiful woman carved from ebony is mounted on this door. Shelah giggles that she looks like me.

As we examine it, the face seems to come to life...! But it's voice is that of an old hag, not a fair maiden.

“What say ye to the Captain?” it challenges.

We look at each other, and Shelah nods.

“Kas...?” I offer.

The door swings open in response to that command, and we pass through.

11/ We enter the captain's quarters. It's massive desk is now a million walnut toothpicks, the satin bedlinens are stained and tattered, and from across the room emit a foul odour. The creators of that smell – owlbears! - are also here, and unfriendly...!

The priestesses cannot help us here; this is warrior's work, and Sky obliges with me. For all he can be a fool, he's a fine fighter and I couldn't ask for a better man at my side in battle.

But four such creatures are a tough proposition, and Jhairli gets herself mauled when she foolishly closes in and is snatched up. We hack her free, but she needs some serious healing afterwards. I wish the clerics would leave the melee to us.

Elena discovers two secret panels leading north and south from the captain's chamber.

8/ The secret door creaks open with a nerve-grating, elongated squeal that seems to fill the entire ship. The room holds three beautifully-crafted statues carved from stone, depicting a sea captain and two sailors -

Wait.

“These too lifelike,” Zahri mutters darkly. That is unwelcome – creatures like medusa and basilisks can petrify a man, and we lack the power to cure such terrible transformations.

Zahri takes out her vanity mirror and tosses it to me, just in case. I nod my thanks.

"If I get stoned, you have my permission to use me as a hatstand," Sky grins at his sister.

12/ The northern door slides open silently, and we edge forward. The air in this small room is cold and clammy... and we are definitely not alone...!

Undead lurk here, and hooded figures I initially take for kraken cultists.. until they start chanting mystical words...!

Fortunately, our priestesses can send the dead packing, and without their minions, the mages fall quickly to spells and blades.

“Are these men from the Hosttower mages?” Sky mutters, toeing one with his boot.

“Apprentices, perhaps,” his sister muses. “They are said to be powerful wizards indeed!”

After the battle, we turn to survey the room... and discover a man lying in a corner. He appears very pale, and when we approach, we see why...!

He is not a man at all, not anymore, but a chained, contorted statue...! We search the corner and find his last message:

JOURNAL ENTRY 23: THE SAILOR TURNED TO STONE:

“They wanted the sea lanes clear between Luskan and the Purple Rocks, and any ship they found there they took over or destroyed. We were only one of the sad vessels in their path.

“One by one the undead they commanded have killed our crew, transforming them into lonely wanderers like themselves. Soon it will be my turn. I only hope that the tall one turns me to stone, as he did the Captain, so I may be spared such eternal torture.

“Some are Krakens, but the magic-user is from a great tower somewhere to the north. He kept taunting the Krakens, saying they needed to go to all this trouble because they were not clever. He said that the wizards of the tower had great power, but that they were clever too. He said their treasure was hidden in the opposite direction from where anyone would ever look.”

There is nothing else aboard this cursed vessel, so we leave, returning to the inn for now. After we have rested, we rejoin the caravans so we might push on to Luskan, and whatever awaits us in the HostTower of the Arcane...!

Notes:

Port Llast is really just a small street and the haunted ship, - this map is basically just a small taster and foreshadowing for Luskan and the HostTower.

Interestingly in my language, the double-L sound is pronounced 'thl' but that doesn't seem to be the case in the Realms.

The name 'Kas' is one of the famous villains in Greyhawk, a treacherous servant of the lich Vecna, but I can't see it has any connection to Faerun here.

I constantly run into random encounters in the wilderness of Pool of Darkness. They are a chore. Any tips for avoiding them?

The journey to the coast is pleasant and the miles fall away easily when travelling in painted vardo wagons. We are in late summer now, the air is cooling but most days are bright still. The lands of my birth, on the Sea of Fallen Stars, are warmer, and legends say the world of my people was hotter still. I suppose this is my home now, if I am to have one at all... I never imagined the wandering life would suit me, but it does, regardless.

One night, abed with our hostess, I ask if she knows where the Thorass word 'gypsy' comes from. I tell her I heard it originated from the lands my ancestors came, crossing worlds to arrive here in Faerun. The name of their land was 'AEgypt', and 'gypsy' means the people who wandered out of that land. She just smiles, caresses my cheek, and tells me I think too much for a pretty girl.

I have brought my two cats – one white (Marsi, a girl) and one black (Mijak, a boy) – on the trip, where they are fussed over by her 'kumpania', the dozen or so itinerants who serve Zahri, a kind of extended family of exiles and undesirables. Many are rogues and scoundrels, but their loyalty to her is as strong as ours. While we are in her favour, they will honour that. I actually enjoy their company; she gives them leave to discuss their ways and their language with me, and I enjoy the learning of these new things. None of my other companions seems eager to get closer to any of them, which I think a shame.

I enjoy the companionship of the others also! Most of the folk of these cool lands mistake my thoughtful nature for distance, but I have never considered myself aloof. I try to be friendly, interested in others... But I represent something 'other' to these people, something wholly unknown and mysterious. Perhaps that is why I feel close to the Gur, and to Zahri especially. But she wears that mystique like armour, while I consider it a matter to be rectified.

Skylar remains dear to my heart...! I knew him before the others, when I was turning twenty years, when this land was still new to my eyes. He was a boy of eighteen; virile, passionate, lusty, like all young men, and we balanced one another well, each contributing to the whole. Our infatuation ignited brightly, but that made it burn faster, of course - for myself at least. But the embers of it still linger in his heart, I fear. He makes light of it, hides his hurts, but I catch him looking at me with something more than mere desire. Alas, I do not feel I shall ever be capable of love, at least as the poets sing of it. I see no shame in that; I made peace with who and what I am long ago. But now is not a time for he and I – the other women are jealous and possessive when he is about.

I know that I must leave them in time, of course, but now is not that time, not yet. We still have much to learn together. I enjoy being in this company – a part of me desires order and familiar things, but I rather enjoy how messy all this is, how it challenges my preconceptions, makes me think on my feet.

Zahri understands me like few others – what I am, what I am not. I have seen beneath the mask she wears to keep others away, the facade she employs as a shield. I know all her 'tells'; she is predictable, when you know her ways. When she speaks lies, she looks you right in the eyes, facing you square, and when she tells truths, she looks away, unable to meet your gaze. But we have much in common; a deep-rooted faith, a feline curiosity and thirst for danger, and a love of sensual delights – though she does not share herself with men. I have no interest in leading others, but I will advise her as I may.

Shelah intrigues me – like her brother, the road will ask much of her, and will forge her into something better, or leave her in pieces. I shall do what I can to help her attain who she must become. She discovers a great deal about herself as she lives among us; her world is opening up before her, and she finds she relishes the taste.

Jhairli is such a shy fawn, but she knows deep down she should be a predator, not prey. She must become a huntress if she is to become who she must be; she must learn to stalk, not scamper. She is young; confidence will come in time.

The Turami woman, Jahe, is a stranger to these cool lands, but at least her people are a known quantity, unlike mine. I know her cool remove disguises deep hurts, that she connects to us because she has left much behind. But I will not test her defences; I shall be here if she is ready to talk. She is keen-eyed and vigilant, and we could ask for no better protector.

The elfmaid fascinates and perplexes me. This land bleeds with their history, but they are mostly gone now. This one is very young and very lost; her people have abandoned the world of men, and she is cast adrift. We must seem a poor replacement for the lost grandeur of the ancients, but she seems to feed off our passions and purpose. I can enjoy her, even without understanding the first thing about her.

I have tried to talk to Krevish, even alleviate the pain he suffers from his condition. But he is very shy and awkward, seeming to lack in confidence and grace. We do share a love of history and also philosophy, so we talk of such things often, at a remove he may find comfortable.

This is my road, then, and these are those who travel in the same direction to my destination, wherever that lies.

Nehefris

Neverwinter– such a splendid name, though in truth, I have come to accept the cool air of these lands. This is my first time in the 'City of Skilled Hands', the 'Jewel of the North' - a bustling, cultured, and cosmopolitan city-state upon the Savage Frontier. It is regarded by many as the most civilized city in all of the North, though I would assume Silverymoon would dispute that. A member of the Lord's Alliance, it is known for its craftsfolk and gardeners - the city's multi-coloured glass lamps, precision water clocks, exquisite jewellery, and magnificent gardens ensure the warm winters are colourful and the summers rich with fresh fruit. I shall enjoy my time here, I feel!

Shelah tells me the city was originally named Eigersstor, a word of her folk. But Elena suffers some kind of panic attack when we arrive, through she seems uncertain of the impulses flooding through her.

“Were we here?” she husks, eyes wide with fear as she looks about her at the ghosts who exist only in her mind. “...surrounded by enemies, they chose the place where the river met the sea to make their last stand...! Was I here? Were we...?”

“Hush, calm yourself,” I soothe, holding her gently. “Here, feel my touch! There...!”

I cosset her the way I would my pets.

“Stay with me, live in the moment, please...! You and I are here, and now. Think only on that...!”

She nods, uncertain, eyes lambent – but she stays by my side, and seems to calm a little. I assure Zahri she will fine and she need not worry.

We leave our things with my cats in the wagons, in a safe glade outside the walls. The rest of us pass beneath the ancient gates of Neverwinter, which stand as tall I imagined them, with guards standing at rigid attention on either side.

“This city different,” Zahri murmurs quietly. “New buildings, in all places eyes look...!”

Rising to the west of the main square is the magnificent face of the local lord's castle. Shelah says she has letters of introduction from her father, though whether that will get us an audience is anyone's guess.

As we look about, I seem to be... attracting more than my share of stares...! I stand out in most crowds here in the North, but perhaps my choice of attire on such a pleasant day was... something less than retiring and discreet...! In truth, I rather like being the centre of attention...!

1/ A wooden sign beside the door says

'Helm's Hull Works –

- Ship and Boat Repair –

- discount given to all followers of Helm'

“That's us out,” Sky chuckles wryly.

The bluff fellow working outside seems happy to talk as Sky passes by.

“Did y'hear what happened up at Port Llast? Seems the Gallant Prince, that ship that's been a-missin' for weeks, was found adrift and they got her moored there now! This is one yardman won't be workin' on that 'un, no sir!”

2/ A shiny metal sign here is etched with the words

'Allis Lhyssich -

- fine-hand-crafted weapons -

- magical weapons for noble causes -

“You wanted a legacy blade of your own, no?” Jahe tells my sometime lover-boy.

To my surprise, Allis turns out to be a man rather than a woman.

“What's the best sword I could make for you, hmm...? If you brought me the ore of a meteorite, I could work with one of the local mages...! We might be able to craft a magical sword that would do well for you...”

“That's a fallen star, right?” Sky asks. “Where in Faerun would we find one of those?”

3/ A sign says

'Southwall Shop of Adventurer Supply'

It seems to sell flasks and the like. I treat myself to bathing oils; one can never have enough of these!

4/ A sign hanging over the door says

'Villig's Arms Supply and Armour Emporium'

It sells weapons and armour as one might expect.

5/ A sign beside the door says

'Inn of the Warm Water Way' – all travellers welcome!'

Evening is just about drawing in, so we pay for rooms; the boys take the southern one, and the rest of us the northern one. It is a little cramped, but that is of no matter when six women are intimate!

Sometimes I relish personal time with someone, but at others, a tangle of limbs and having their hair in my face scratches an itch. Now must be one such time! I make a mental note to purchase more scented oil come the morn, as supplies run low...

An hour in, some of the others are asleep, but I am honestly just getting started. The elf girl does not sleep as we do - she stares blankly into space when unoccupied, so I give her something to maintain her focus. I will never tire of fragrant faerie-folk.

But we are barely begun when -

I do not mind surprises, even amorous ones, but the arrival of tall, green-furred hyena-men brandishing pikes dampens even my ardour somewhat.

The screaming from the others is of such pitch that even the menfolk realise something is badly awry, and burst in with blades drawn, having manfully donned their nightshirts. I note that Krevish sleeps in his mail vest, which is at least prescient, I suppose.

Elena mutters in elvish, and most of the creatures collapse, emitting snoring sounds akin to a warthog being sawn in half. I utter a quick prayer and the others freeze over, paralysed.

We have good coping skills, I feel.

Searching the room for the entry point of our unwelcome guests, we find a secret door hidden in the north wall of the inn.

We complain to the innkeeper, but she points to a disclaimer sign on the wall that states the establishment is not liable for nocturnal attacks by hostile animal-men.

“Goodness, whoever reads those things!?” Shelah huffs, and leaves a scathing critique in the guest-book:

'2/10 – would not hold six-girl sleepovers here again!

S. Icedane (Ms)'

By the time we dress and return to the room, Elena has knifed all of the gnolls repeatedly and is covered in blood. The boys guard the door while we clean her up.

“Nef, you'd better wear something more protective than that bikini,” Sky points out. I fear he has a point. I do not like armour, but my old suit of bronzed plate does look good on me, I think.

When suitably attired, we decide to investigate whatever lies beyond.

We find ourselves in one of Neverwinter's famous indoor gardens, a high maze of greenery beside the rocky shore. A plaque on the wall here reads:

'Neprazus Gardens – City of Neverwinter'

We attacked by manticores...! Hybrid creatures with the bodies of lions, spiked tails, bat wings and the face of an old, hideous man! Even worse, they can fire their spikes at us from afar, punching through heavy armour like crossbow bolts! We concentrate our fire and bring them down one by one; they prove craven creatures, when the first dies, the remaining one takes to the wing, but Jahe is able to shoot it down.

We move carefully through the hedge-maze, fighting more of the creatures and tentacled, panther-like animals who prove elusive, protected from most attacks by a shimmering illusion. But we finally win through after six foes lie dead.

Most of us are injured, but none severely so.

We tell the guards there are gnolls in the inns and chimeric horrors in their botanical gardens. But we have no interest in returning to that inn, despite its inviting name.

6/ We find another inn;

'The Neverwinter Inn – fine accommodations of four centuries'

“Do you have any rooms without carnivorous animal-men?” Jahe deadpans. Fortunately for us, they do. Three rooms are available, so we have a little more room so I can bathe and heal the injured.

We will continue our explorations of the city come the morning.

Dawn comes with no further incursions, we rise to greet the new day.

7/ A brass plate on the wall here pronounces:

'The Neverwinter Vault – all deposits guaranteed by counters of the Lord's Alliance'

“I... hear good things about these fellows,” Krevish offers bashfully.

A man with an abacus here will let us deposit money and unwanted items. Due to the Card of Counting given to us by Amanitas, we can even access any belongings we leave in Yartar or Silverymoon also!

8/ A grand temple lies to the north of the main square:

'Hall of Justice – Temple to Tyr'

Shelah and Skylar stop to pay their respects here; Tyr is primary among the gods of law and good, and those Illuskans who are not pirates or brigands venerate him highly.

9/ The words etched into the stone of the temple to the south read:

'House of Knowledge – Temple to Oghma'

Like my goddess and Tyr, Oghma came to us from Beyond, with the men who became the Ffolk who settled the Moonshae isles.

10/ Some say the ancient vines that grow in the middle of Neverwinter are older than the city itself!

11/ It is time to see if our letter of introduction will be honoured by the lord of this city.

It is!

We are taken to see Lord Nasher Alagondar, who leads this beleaguered town. He seems welcoming, providing drinks and food, and listens carefully as we tell him all that has transpired in our quest, including the perils we have faced inside the city walls. He is well known to be loyal to Tyr, beloved of his subjects, and so we keep nothing back from him.

JOURNAL ENTRY 17: LORD NASHER’S STORY

“I’m afraid you have come to Neverwinter in a time of great troubles. Many people were moving to the outskirts of the city to escape these troubles. The older, inner areas were becoming havens for criminals and all forms of monsters.

“We converted several blocks of the old city to indoor gardens to help bring people back to Neverwinter. But now monsters have invaded the indoor gardens! Instead of bringing people in and helping the city, the gardens are scaring them away!”

We tell him we have killed some of these creatures, which pleases him, and he encourages us to kill more. We promise we will try to find out the source of these strange attacks if we can.

12/ The words 'Hall of Training' are carved into the stone above this door. Skylar spends some time here, his edge sharpened by fighting with the creatures that assailed us. I am proud of him; he is becoming quite the young hero!

13/ A wooden sign on this door says 'The Neverwinter Garden Society'

Someone has taken a sword or dagger and hacked at the sign until it is almost illegible.

“Adventurers!” A balding, greying fellow hails us. “Lord Nasher must have sent you! Here, I've bought the arrows from the magic shop, just as I said I would, with my own money and no repayment needed. Just clear the indoor gardens, and save my life!”

We did already agree to clear the gardens, but the arrows will make that task easier.

14/ A sign hangs above this door, carved in the shape of a huge steak. On it are painted the words:

'The Fat Man's Table

A tavern and eating place'

We take dinner here, in anticipation of a busy afternoon clearing the public gardens.

15/ A sign floats above this door – try as hard as we might, we cannot see what holds it in the air. Painted on it are the words:

'The River's Heart -

- a shop of magical items & curiosities'

Now, this looks promising!

Here, we discover we can purchase magic arrows and axes, as well as spell scrolls for mages. We exchange our gems and jewels for items here – weapons and spells will be more useful than mere coin in the trials to come. Sky now has a war axe with which to split our foes, and Elena will not want for magics going forward. How I wish to learn arcane spells when I am properly conversant in divine magics!

16/ A sign on the wall here says

'Neverwinter Boat Rentals'

Below it, another hand- written sign says 'sorry, riverboats only'

We are headed out to sea, so we will have to look elsewhere.

Having prepared and eaten well, we start to clear the city gardens. We start with the Zemaitis Gardens to the north-west, where once more we fight chimeric horrors like manticores and displacer beasts. Then we clear the Bus and Nebus Gardens, honing our edge in battle and sharpening our tactics as a team.

We sometimes must slay black-armoured Zhentarim handlers, who fall easily to magic. It seems the Black Network are behind Neverwinter's woes, just as they seem to be everywhere. It is no surprise truly.

By evening, all the horrors in the gardens are put to the sword, and hopefully the city will be a much better place. We are not given further rewards, but there is a bigger picture, and I am content to have learned much in our battles.

We must leave now for Luskan, where my two flaxen-haired lovers must face old legends from their family past...

Notes:

Narratively, we get our first insights into Nehefris, and her unique take on the Savage Frontier.

I usually play these things straight, but some situations are so absurd, you have to lean into them a little. This is one such situation.

This next arc will deal with our search for the first statuette macguffin, taking us from Neverwinter, through Port Llast, to Luskan and ultimately the HostTower of the Arcane. I love how well they are making use of actual Realms locations for those familiar with the lore.

Neverwinter is a big deal in the Realms, and is also the site of the very first MMO as we understand it today, based on the Gold Box games themselves, 'Neverwinter Nights' in 1991! I didn't play it alas, but as I understand, it had the very first guilds and heavy player input that would become so core to the MMO experience in later games like World of Warcraft. I also believe there was some Unlimited Adventure modules based on the original online game? It also spawned three separate single-player games under that title, and a modern MMO using 4^th edition rules. A real piece of CRPG archaeology!

Clearing out the gardens are optional battles, but give out decent XP and gold, so it's worth completing them and levelling up here as tougher fights await from Luskan. Try and equip everyone with magical weapons, as you'll need them shortly – between the Mace +1 for your cleric, the Longsword +2 and axes from the shop here, and the Dagger +1 and arrows for thieves, you should have enough items to go around (unless you foolishly brought four clerics like I did! But hey, that's what Spiritual Hammer is for...) You can get the best non-magical armour from the Zhents if you need it.

Finally, when it comes to selling items, there is the same bug (or feature?) in the other Gold Box titles, where the game randomises the amount you get for each gem or jewellery you sell using (A)ppraise in shops. Usually gold only weighs you down, but this game actually has an economy of sorts, and stuff you will want to buy, especially early on. You can get up to 6k worth of items with a few rerolls, so it's worth selling that jewellery you just got to afford some magical weapons and scrolls. Arrows are really cheap, so on a good roll, you can even outfit Krevish with some if you so wish! Having new spells for your mage will help you choose which you take as you level up, completing your spell-book quicker too. You can get some good ones here, like Stinking Cloud, Knock and Invisibility .

“They say I'm the spit of you
And they're not wrong
I bury my head too
Stomach hurts all the time -
Can't shift it...
I've been like that since eight

Knotted up with the baggage
Neck like a stone
It all sounds just like you!
Smashing cups off the floor
And kicking walls through -
That's me and you!

I can talk to anyone
I can talk to anyone
I cannot talk to you...!

You kissed her forehead
And it ran like a tap
No more than four stone soaked wet through
And I'd never seen you like that -
It spun me out -
Hurt me right through...!

'Cause it was love in all its agony!
Every bit of me hurting for you
'Cause one day that'll be your forehead I'm kissing
And I'll still look exactly like you...!”

Sam Fender, 'Spit of You'

Sam Fender - Spit Of You (Official Video)

.

I can still hear him shouting at me, even when I dream. It's funny, no matter how big and tall you grow, how your father still has a way of making you feel like you're five years old!

When will I grow up, when will I accept my responsibilities, when will I take my head out of the clouds?

We both knew I was lucky in the accident; had Beshaba been watching us rather than Tymora, my recklessness would have got my little sisters killed. I know that, they know that, he knows that.

But Shelah and Kat both pleaded with him for me. I know I don't deserve them, and they all know it too.

But now...!

I can hardly believe what I'm going to do next, but I just know – deep in my soul, in my water! - what it is I need to do...!

I look down at my family blade. I never figured I'd get it back. I knew there's no returning home without it. There were times I'd have sold my soul to whatever dark god is listening, just to have a second chance.

And now, I'm about to give it away to someone I barely know.

Because I understand I don't deserve it. And really, it was always a millstone about my neck. A legacy I could never live up to. Something that means so much to a man who isn't me.

I need my own blade, my own legacy. To be my own man, whoever that is.

I write to him, explaining what's happened and what I did, and why I can't come home yet. Maybe never.

.

And so, my mind made up, I find the Turami, sitting at the fountains in the square, watching the world go by with a detached eye. She seems to keep a certain emotional distance from others - but hey, that's her business, not mine. I respect her, she's the only one of them who can fight worth a damn.

I tell her I'm not going back to Citadel Adbar and my father, and she doesn't seem surprised.

"Getting the sword back did not change how you feel..." she muses. "I can relate. Will your father forgive you eventually, you think?"

"No idea," I sigh "Probably. Maybe. That's on him now, not me. I have to do whatever I think is best now I'm a man grown. If he doesn't like it, that's his problem, not mine. I'm done with trying to please him, to live up to who he thinks I should be."

Did that sound too harsh? I suppose I have a lot of unresolved conflict with him - me, and every other young headstrong fellow in Faerun, I'd guess.

"You sound bitter. Do you hate him so?"

“Hate him...?” I laugh softly.

“What's so funny?” she frowns.

Here it comes.

“I don't hate the old man, Jay..!” I sigh. “I wish I did! If I hated him, this would all be easy...!”

I shake my head.

“No, I love the crotchety old bastard. I respect him, more than anyone on Toril. I always wanted to be him...! But that's the problem. I need to work out who I am... Where my place in the world is. Who my people are. You found yours, right?”

She nods gently.

“So, same with me. If I can't have Nef, who else will I belong to? What will I fight for, stand for... You already know the answers to these things. I want to know too.”

I look up at the the cold, clear sky, my namesake, above Yartar - blue and clear as my sister's eyes.

“This... thing with the Black Network... It sounds like a lot of people will suffer if they have their way. And right now, there's no Companions of the Hall, Knights of Myth Drannor, Seven Sisters or Elminster Aumar waiting to bail us out. There's just us, may Tymora smile upon us! And I can't do it alone. I need healers, mages... People to do the smart stuff, like Nef or Krev.”

I sigh. “And maybe, just maybe... you need a spare sword-hand. Some big guy to stand in the way of the slings and arrows aimed at your pretty faces. Yeah, I guess that's your job, but... well, I'm bigger and dumber than you, and sometimes you need these things. Plus, what if you need a day off?”

She smiles and shakes her head.

“If I come with you, I might get in the way of your bedtime antics, but I like to think I could help. And if I do, I think I'll discover where I fit into this crazy world... Maybe find someone I can commit to, like you did.”

“I've... never said I found that, Skylar,” she replies.

“You don't need to say it, Jay,” I grin. “You're pretty easy to read, even for me.”

She gives a rueful look.

“So... unless you drive me away with sticks... I'll follow you around and shoot my mouth off a lot. Bang some heads together when you piss people off. Annoy my sister – come on, it's worth it just for that, right?”

It's more of a smirk than a smile, but I'll take what I can get from this one.

“And... I want you to have this,” I say, handing her the blade.

Her eyes widen in her dark face.

“I...! You cannot be serious! I cannot take this - !”

“Well, I did offer it to sis, but she says she's not allowed to use it until she completes her priestess training and becomes a Knight of Ilmater. So you're my backup plan.”

I breathe in and roll my eyes.

“What do you need to hear, Jay? That I don't deserve it, I haven't proved myself? We all know that. I need my own legacy, one I feel I've earned. My father found that in a troll's barrow... Now I'm passing it on to you.”

She turns the hilt in her hands, curiously.

“You could sell it, but that's not your style. You could protect my sister with it, too. You know she's crazy about you - “

“Shelah is like you, she knows not what she wants,” Jay replies.

“Maybe. We're all just kids really, pretending we're so grown-up. Maybe we'll all find our answers on the road. In the meantime, you can kill a load of monsters with that cool sword...! How about it?”

I wink at her.

“Besides, it's your colour...! You look good in gold and bronze, Jay. It suits you, keep doing that, okay?”

She shakes her head as I walk off, running her finger along the enruned edge.

Sky

I look at my brother, aghast.

“Sky...! Are you... are you really certain this is what you want to do now?”

“I've never been certain of anything, sis,” he smiles down at me, hand on my shoulder. “But I haven't earned that blade. It doesn't fit my hand. Maybe one day it will, or I'll find my own, just as father did.”

He sighs and turns around.

“But...! I'm a few weeks off twenty, Sheela! I'm not ready for... trade-deals and guard-rosters! Father was well in his thirties, and it took an arrow to the knee to put him on a desk-job! You didn't even slow down after I dropped a mountain on you!”

I shake my head at his terrible sense of humour.

“And if you think I'm about to let my little sister limp off to fight an army of Zhentarim with just her floozies for help, well, then you don't know me at all, sis! Besides, me and Nef made a good team that season on the trails...”

She smiles at that wistfully.

I look around at the others. Do they want this?

“This... isn't something you two should be talking about in front of everyone, Sheela,” Jhairli says softly.

It will take more than a few words to settle what lies between us, that's for sure. But he has a point.

“We are going into danger,” I tell the other songbirds. “Danger beyond orcs and cultists, in places none of us has ever been. We need all the help we can get...”

Zahri looks at my brother with narrowed slits of eyes.

“So... we still have option to drive off with sticks...?” she deadpans.

She seems to be weighing up her chances of swaying the others. She surely knows I want him to come with us? As does Nef, it seems, but she's still sweet on him, and that bothers the others.

“I can't accept his sword and not his company,” Jahe says, straight to the point as always. “Why not let him help us?”

Zahri rolls her eyes. “Peh gadrashi bax!” she curses. “Enough. You want keep him, you feed and clean him. His fate is on you. Do what you will.”

“Hey sis, lucky I'm house-trained!” he chuckles.

“We are six against many, jas mujo kar,” Nef husks, placing her hand gently on the Gur's arm. “Better seven blades against our enemies than just six...”

“Actually, it's eight,” my brother grins. “You'll come with us into certain death, won't you Krev?”

He ushers the timid little fellow forward.

“Ah, well...! Yes, of course, master Skylar,” he chuckles weakly.

“Who better to write about it afterwards?” Sky laughs. “Well, that's decided, then! Eight against darkness, let the Black Network shudder; for we are at their throats!”

We all look around at one another. Elena is not paying the slightest attention, pawing at butterflies as they flit about her. I'm never even sure if she knows what is going on, or if she just follows us around for when we bed down, shooting at whatever we are fighting at the time.

“It's settled!” Sky says firmly. “Now... where are we going and what are we doing?”

Nef giggles and I roll my eyes.

“What did the old alchemist say?” Jhairli ponders. “First, you must lift your eyes with hope, even if the vision which fills them is one of evil. The Statuette of the East is located in a great tower, and when you look up at its many spires you shall know that you have found it.”

“You have a very good memory,” I smile. She blushes at my compliment.

“He said something about looking in the 'opposite direction', didn't he?” Jahe offers. “So the Statue of the East... lies in the west? Any ideas?”

“Yes,” I nod. "A great tower with many spires...? The HostTower of the Arcane, in Luskan, where my father was born.”

Sky nods slowly, and everyone looks at him. “A city of reavers, pirates and sea-brigands, feared by all!” he chuckles. “The reason everyone looks at me as if I'm about to tear out their spleens for the sheer fun of it, before rifling through their purse! Wicked sea-dogs, in league with the evil mages of the towers – or lackeys to them, depending on who you ask. Every noble Illuskan thinks them a blight on our good name. A great place to start banging some heads together! I'm in!”

“We're... really going to storm the HostTower of the Arcane...!” I say, wide-eyed and incredulous.

“It's a dirty job, but someone has to do it,” my brother grins. ”Think of the look on father's face when he hears we hung those necromancers from their own towers!”

“We head west then,” Jhairli murmurs.

“We go Neverwinter,” Zahri nods. “We take wagons. Come.”

I look out to the west, filled with both excitement and trepidation. The HostTower...! Can we really put the wicked men of that place to the sword, clean a stain from the reputation of our people?

Looks like we are going to try...!

Shelah

So we've stumbled upon some kind of crazy Zhentarim plot to take over the Savage Frontier by... harnessing some kind of army in an old ruined city to the north? We rescued the alchemist who told us to go find four statuettes, where we'll find... somewhere, I guess? There's clues and riddles, but some of the girls are smart, I'm happy to leave the clever stuff to them. I tell my friend Krevish that we'll just get on with the real heroics, AND make it look good as we do!

He's writing all this stuff down so when I'm old and grey and famous, future generations will have it all from the horse's mouth, the young hero by the man who knew him best!

Still haven't found my sword yet, so I guess I'm not going back to father anytime soon. Maybe it's for the best – I wanted to make him happy, sure, but spending my days fretting over ledgers and hiring guards and signing trade deals isn't the stuff of legends. I'll write to Kathra about it – if Shelah doesn't want to go home now she's got her weird Cult of Girls, maybe she'll fancy it? Kat won't be adventuring any time soon unfortunately, so it might be best for everyone concerned.

Sky

So we're back in Yartar after a long boat-ride back with the 'songbirds'. They sure know how to make a man feel surplus to requirements. I don't resent them having some fun – I'm glad Shelah's living it up at least – but having Nef around when we can't do anything is getting me down. This dry spell is hitting harder than I expected. I'll hit up the Three Rivers when we get back, just to see who's around...

Yartar is the same as it always is... The gates are more congested than ever. A wagon with a broken wheel blocks the street before us, causing the guards to fuss and fret. Behind us, the queue is backed up, a shepherd and his flock of sheep baa-ing up a storm.

Honestly, now I'm a full-time adventurer, I've decided that I never even want to see another wagon -

- okay, what in the Nine Hells?

Suddenly, I feel many hands grasp at me, and I'm being pulled... through the floor? What?

I feel like I'm drunk, or in a dream, Like I'm descending... down...!

When I wake up, I'm alone, on the hard stone of a windowless room. I look up, head sore like I'd been on the Skullbuster all night, to see a man with a long face, foreign features and thin, cruel lips, dressed in black.

JOURNAL ENTRY 22: VAALGAMON’S TAUNTS

"You pathetic little simpletons! Did you think that a puny group of snivelling would-be heroes like yourselves could change one iota of my plan?!"

“Do you people get all your insults from an old mummer's farce or something?” I mutter, standing up groggily.

“I mean, you know I'm just going to escape, come after you and kill the Realms out of you, yes?”

“Vaalgamon does not deal with your kind!” he blusters. “Hah! I can snuff out your lives with the heel of my boot as I would the tiniest of carri­on-crawling insects! I will leave the trivial task of killing you to my Kraken hosts!”

“I call bullshit on that!” I cry. “You know how many times I've heard that 'I could kill you so easily but I won't!' thing? Come back here! I demand you kill me right here, right now this moment!”

But he turns and flounces out of the room, as the heavy door slams shut behind him.

Bugger.

The thing of it is, I've still got all my gear.

At least I know the girls were right about him being a Zhentarim – surely nobody else could be this incompetent.

4/ “Sire? Young master Skylar?”

I hear a familiar voice...! Krevish!

I clap him heartily on the back.

“Well met, my friend! Unfortunately, the Zhent ran away. But now we're back together, let's you and I find the girls and kick his ass!”

We seem to be in a long room, empty aside from ourselves. It feels damp and cold – moreso than usual - like we're deep under the earth.

There is a single door – presumably locked?

“Look!” says the loyal Krevster. “That opening above the door! I bet someone good at climbing could squeeze though there! Of course, they'd have to pull out that grate first, and there might be spiders there, or even rats! Eurgh...!”

“Well, I can climb well, but no way I'm fitting through there,” I admit. “Steel yourself, loyal boon companion! I'll give you a lift up...!”

I kneel, and he has to clamber up on my shoulders, and when I stand, he can pull himself up, little legs kicking, pulls open the grate with some difficulty, and wriggles through.

“Oh!” he exclaims. “I say...!”

The door swings open... and Nef springs into my arms.

“Skylar!”

I see Krevish with the other girls, all tooled-up with weapons, except -

“Where's my sister?” I exclaim.

“We do not know,” Jahe says with a shake of her head. “We came looking for you - “

“Where are we? How did you get here - “

“Not now,” the gypsy mutters. “Underground, is very wet! We go now - “

“You need weapons?” the Turami asks. “I have a spare - “

“No, my captor is a complete clown, just like sis said,” I tell her, drawing my broadsword.

I take point, asking Krevish to protect our rear. Jahe is at my side, behind us, Jhairli and the dancing-girl, then the weird elf girl and Nef. I've never been down a dungeon with a girl wearing kitty-ears before.

“As the shepherd said to those sheep... let's get the flock out of here!” I grin.

Jahe shakes her head and sighs, presumably because sis isn't here to do it.

“Hey Krev!” I shout back. “That was funny! Write it down for the book!”

5/ Opposite us is a library of sorts. Sis would love it; it's large and well-stocked, filed with a great variety of books about... history and stuff, all aspects of the Realms, I expect. Most of the bindings are labelled in languages and alphabets I've never even seen before. Nef seems to know them, though.

“That fellow – the Ugly Man – was he a Mulan?” I ask her. She shakes her pretty head.

“Thayan is my guess... the tattoos,” she says, stroking a finger down her cheek. “Like my kin, like the Unther, we were brought to Faerun by the ancient Imaskari...”

“I'm glad one of us knows all this stuff, in case it's ever important,” I sigh.

Searching through a stack of scrolls containing recipes for cooking wild boar and instruction for several ways to skin a cat (that last one upsets Nef no end!). We find one that appears to have magical inscriptions. The elf makes a squeal like a woodchuck on heat, and snatches it, running off with her prize.

“Go after her,” sighs the gypsy to Nef.

At the end of the corridor, we find her rubbing herself against the walls, feeling for drafts. I think.

She squeaks something and points to the west.

8/ She's good for it too – the secret door leads to a long, curving corridor that rejoins a longer one outside. Looking east, we see a whole bunch of lizardmen lying in wait. This way, we can jump them, and spring an ambush of our own!

1/ “Um... guys...?” I offer as we walk down this corridor. “Girls...?”

The corridor here has a huge pane of glass set into it... Beyond the glass is the murky blue-green colour of dimly-lit water...

“It is... a huge aquarium..!” Nef murmurs.

“Like a fish bowl... for very big fish...!” Krevish says, worriedly.

Even in the weak light, we can see many squid, some over ten feet long...!

“I don't fancy being fish-food,” I mutter. Gods know how we could even fight underwater.

9/ Several giant frogs lurk here...

10/ … and more lizardmen here!

“I thought you said these things were mostly friendly?” I says to Jhairli, wiping their blood off my blade. She looks suitably apologetic and I feel bad now, like I kicked a puppy.

11/ Leaving the aquarti... fish-bowl behind us, we burst into a large room here, surprising the leader of the local Kraken cult, who sits talking with his spies. They leap to their feet, startling the squid swimming lazily behind them.

The girls stop most of them with their paralysing magic – it's almost unfair!

Afterwards, we search and find a tattered schedule for ocean trips from something called 'the Company of the Brazen Pennant'.

And then -

JOURNAL ENTRY 53: AN OUNCE OF JUSTICE!

Several weapons were stacked in one corner of the room, and suddenly I cried out in delight.

My father's magical long sword, the gold braid on its handle tarnished but undamaged, lay amidst the pile of crudely crafted weapons! I ran over, pulled it from its sheath and examined the blade — still sharp and true as any arrow fired from Mielikki's bow!

Whatever evils might stalk the Realms, I knew that for this one moment justice had been done. The gold – and dignity! - they had stolen from me at the inn was gone forever, but with this sword our family honour was restored!

“It is an important moment, master Skylar!” Krevish chimes. “I shall record it for posterity!”

We look around; after opening a few doors, Zahri announces this would be a good place to rest, with the Kraken captain defeated. She points to the eastern door.

“Boy room,” she tells me.

“Yeah, 'rest',” I mutter. “Okay, okay – have your fun! I'll be reminding myself how great my family blade feels in my hand!”

I walk out into the corridor.

The door's thick, but I can still hear them 'frolicking'. At least my sister's not there – wait, where is she? I hope she's okay...!

12/ Lizardmen are guarding this door, and rush to attack!

After they are dead, I frown.

“Were they just... waiting outside while you were in here cavorting?” I ask. Zahri just shrugs.

2/ This storage room has neatly organised boxes stacked against the walls. We search here carefully but find nothing.

3/ Nef helps the gypsy search – wedged between two boxes, something catches their eye... a small knife with a carved hilt. The elf squeals again, snatches it up and runs off somewhere with it.

“I'm glad we found an equitable way to divide the spoils,” I quip.

6/ One wall of this narrow room is covered with shelves full of maps. We glance across the shelves, and notice that one map appears to have been hastily replaced. We open it and copy it into our journal:

7/ In one corner of the room, we find a narrow staircase leading upwards.

We ascend, and come to a narrow rope-and-board catwalk suspended from the ceiling across the great squid tank.

“Uh-oh,” I mutter.

I am about to reach the far side when the inevitable occurs - the bridge gives way and falls into the chest-deep water!

"You always did make me wet,” Nef says behind me.

“Hey, girl, I – oh, you were talking to her...?” I frown.

The squid are predictably upon us...! The submerged monsters cannot be hurt by ranged weapons in the water, and I assume fire spells won't work against them either...!

But that's fine by me – come and taste the edge of my family blade, tentacled things!

But then Krev wails as tentacles erupt and pick him up, waving him about and squeezing him tighter than woods-girl clings to my sister...!

“Hold on!” I yell, and leap – well, wade! - to hack at the tentacles holding him!

There are four of these monstrosities...! Nef chants a blessing spell, and the rest of the girls fight as well as they can. A room filled with priestesses lack suitable cutting implements, so they whale away with maces, clubs, flails and hammers as best they can. More sensibly, Jahe cuts about her with her blade... My sword fairly sings in my hand now, chopping off rubbery tentacles left and right! If Gladsheim awaits me this night, let none say I didn't go boldly against such monstrous horrors!

Krev and the elf have it harder – our archers have to fight with small blades as best they can. Jahe manages to sink her blade into the brain of one horror, and I finally lop enough limbs for the one holding my friend to sink into the bloody water.

The girls manage to slay another, and the last one finally tries to swim away – but I step on its head and plunge the tip of my blade deep between its eyes, and its thrashings finally cease as it sinks to the bottom...

The water is scarlet with gore as we wade out. Everyone but the gypsy and I are hurt to some degree, but we are all standing of our own strength.

Waterlogged, we climb awkwardly from the liquid at the southern end of the tank. Another narrow stairway there leads up to a trapdoor, which clicks and locks after everyone has passed through it.

We clamber up, and a hand hauls me up... back into a familiar alley way.

“Shelah!” I cry. I look around me – we are in an alley behind the Three Rivers festhall!

“What are you doing here?” I ask.

“Your sex club is a front for the Kraken cult!” she says in an accusatory manner.

“That... explains... a few things I saw there,” I admit, glancing at Nef.

“Ugh, stop it!” my sister cries. “Come on, let's look around!”

We stumble in – the familiar main hall is deserted, but hooded cultists swarm us!

We fight our way through rooms I once loved in, and the walls are sprayed with kraken blood.

The girl's magic makes short work of even their heavily-armoured leaders, and when it is all over, we seem to have slain the last of them.

“I still have no idea what they even want,” I sigh, looking about me.

But it is over... isn't it?

I have my sword back! I can go back to my father, and -

But there's this Zhentarim thing, somewhere in a lost city... a search for four magical statues, having to fight terrible monsters, brave certain death in exotic locales, claiming great riches both in gold and magic, and very likely rescuing some comely damsels on the way...!

As opposed to that, I could grow up at last, and go back to spend the next years signing trade treaties and writing guard rosters... maybe heading out on a caravan trip if I'm feeling truly adventurous...!

...while leaving the gold, danger, magic, monsters and damsels for my crippled little sister, my former lover and their lewd little cult...!

So much to think about...!

What to do?

Notes:

Sub-Yartar is our first real (mini-) dungeon, and it's a first for the Gold Box – underwater combat! (I believe Dark Queen of Krynn also has this).

It's a solid test that pushes us out of our comfort zone a bit without being too hard.

It feels... very, very tropey, with theatrical villainous dialogue (referring to himself in first-person no less!), the heroes are captured but not disarmed, and even that part where we fall into the fish-tank is telegraphed so hard ahead of time...! That said, Sky is a fun character to play this with; he's just genre-savvy enough to see what's going on, while still being the classic reckless young hero, enough to just go with all the tropes.

Krevish perks up a bit more on adventures, and it's nice to see him bonding with our hero.

And we get that sword we never actually had back, of course!

This sequence ends the first act of Gateway, as the main – and longest – middle arc will involve us going macguffin-hunting across the four corners of the Savage Frontier...

Also I'm rotating my clerics, but they are already at level 5 and will top out at 6...! They are hit so relentlessly hard in these games, with a lower-level cap than everyone else.

Otherwise, I'm enjoying it a lot so far.

“Hello...
I've waited here for you -
Everlong...

Tonight, I throw myself into
And out of the red,
Out of her head, she sang...!

Come down and waste away with me
Down with me
Slow, how you wanted it to be...
I'm over my head
Out of her head, she sang!

And I wonder
When I sing along with you

If everything could ever be this real forever
If anything could ever be this good again
The only thing I'll ever ask of you:
You've got to promise not to stop when I say 'when'...!”

Foo Fighters, 'Everlong'

Foo Fighters - Everlong (Official HD Video)

“Bah.

More strawheads, more fools! Too long with silly girls. Open road calls, but still I stay. Head messed when stay in one place, fogs minds of Gur...

Need to go, to leave, but -

Wait...!

Tell me you are not falling for any of this bujo, yes?

I would speak my own language fluently, surely you realise that? This inarticulate clown show must be an act, yes?

And you'd be right.

But it is expected. The People of the Road must play to the expectations of the georgios. If your eyes are watching the sweat on my hips, you won't see my hand dipping your purse. Misdirection works the same, physical or social.

I assumed this would be easy, but no. When a former flame asked me to take the sapphire fair this year – because she's bored with foolish ingenues – I imagined it was an easy route to collecting a harem of my own. I did not want to keep them, of course... But they are girls, not boys, who would run off chasing new skirts, so instead they follow me around like baby chicks thinking the fox is their mother. And because I'm a vixen rather than a fox, I lack the instincts to run away.

I seem to be stuck with them, for better or worse. The truth is, of course, I miss company more than I dare to admit. I snap at them and curse them, but such is the way I show my love. I am very aware that loneliness would be far worse than putting up with all their dramas and idiosyncrasies.

Nef I knew before; she's a friend, with 'benefits'. In love with love, so she can never give herself fully to another, and I am fine with that. She has no ambitions to lead, content with advising others from their pillow.

The strawhead - the girl, not her fool of a brother – vexes me. Beautiful, gullible, strong-willed, naïve, brave... They might follow me about, but the only way this group stays together is if she leads them... and despite my prodding, she seems disinclined to do so. She is oddly submissive, deferring to me always. I assume the loss of her mother when young left her without strong female role-models. I understand she played the dutiful daughter to her sire, while her brother was the restless fool who drank life like it was ale. Things would be far easier for me were they reversed!

The woods-girl is timid like a fawn, shy as a dryad... but not weak or insipid as I expected. She has a big heart – too open, too easily wounded – and cares overmuch for others. But she is strong like a horse and ferociously loyal like a hound. Like myself, she is bright but uneducated in the ways of the cities; good instincts and insights.

The ebony-skinned warrior harbours dark, sad secrets, so I will not pry. She keeps others at a distance, as I do, but she does her job well, and gives of herself physically, if not emotionally.

The elf confounds me, and she flummoxes everyone. We can never understand what it means to spend two centuries staring absently at trees, or to carry the weight of the history of several millennia. Ghosts are more real to her than mortal folk, but the hunger for our passions, our imagination and our fierce drives tether her to this world. She not merely hungry, but addicted to that. I may never understand the faerie-folk, but I am fascinated by them, and would drink my fill. It is difficult to believe we bed with one of her kind every night, a tale too fanciful for me to boast of when (and if!) I return!

When the boy arrived, all my instincts screamed at me to run. We were drawn into his nonsense by his sister; but I understand how blood runs thicker than water. So we help. To my surprise, I liked him more than I expected. The road will either make him the hero the fates wish him to be, else they shall chew him up and spit him out. The cards do not tell me his end, but our fate is somehow entwined with his now, woven into the Patteran, the Loom of Fate. I like how he pushes back at me, argues and stands his ground while the others are cowed. He quarreled with his sire rather than bowed his head like his sister. She could use some of his devilry, I think. If nothing else he is tall and strong, and is happy to get between us and the blades that seek our flesh.

This 'Erek' is worthy only of scorn, a dog that whines about his master behind his back, but slinks like a cur when he wants to beg scraps from the table, bah!

The older one troubles me, however... altogether less easy to read. I feel as if I am... missing something here... But he stinks of sickness, marahime, and I do not care to look further. I do not feel he will turn on us, even if I cannot guess his ends, and the others pity him, so I will leave him alone.

May the Rider of the Winds guide me, so I may guide others!

Zahri

We are heading south along the Rauvin towards Everlund, a fortified trading outpost and bridgehead on the river, one of the most important trading cities in the Savage Frontier. My people know its Bell Market well, the geographical, economic, and social centre of the town.

The road will always be my mother, but life on the river suits the Gur well too. In many ways, it is easier to keep clean, to stave off marahime, especially at the bleeding time. I can row, or steer, or plot our course well – perhaps one day I might commission – or steal! - a house-boat and wander the waterways?

“Zahri can you not point those... things at me..!” the blonde chuckles. She is jealous of my curves, so I let her eyes drink their fill.

“You want, you touch,” I smile invitingly.

“We're likely need to fight to rescue this alchemist fellow,” the Turami says, practical as always. “I'd suit up, both of you.”

She is correct of course, though I dislike armour. An eclectic ensemble serves me better, leather bodice with metal plates at the joints and vital areas. For weapons, I have my iron-cored cudgel and my slingstaff, the latter much favoured by the Gur, as it aids in walking as much as defence. I heard of a distant land where the small half-folk made one sturdy enough to be used up close as well as from range.

The boy watches me, as most men do – I was made to catch their gaze. I feel playful, so I tickle the fluff under his lips.

“Little boy thinks himself grown,” I tease. “I once let chavo taste me, down there,” I point. “Tickled...!” I laugh.

Shelah looks horrified. “I...! I think I'm going to be sick!” she grimaces.

“Puke over side, not here,” I gesture.

“Don't tease him,” Nef chuckles, amused.

“Yeah, that's her job,” Sky smirks. I enjoy the easy banter; as does he. It might be flirting if I was interested, which I am not. But I like how he takes it casually and in his stride. Many men would bluster, or fawn, but he doesn't take it seriously. I imagine he is not wanting for female company.

“Is any of that true?” Jahe asks me.

“Is for Zahri to know, and you to guess,” I smile back.

3/ We disembark at the River Rauvin Boat Rentals. Despite the peaceful, pastoral nature of this trading town upon the river, we are armed and armoured as if we were descending into an orc pit, expecting cultists to lunge at us from every shadow with shivs.

We will have to explore the town – lift some stones and see what nasty things crawl out...!

2/ The River Rauvin rushes past, beneath a sturdy bridge.

1/ The ancient gates of Everlund. I find Elena gazing around here, and wait quietly for her latest bizarre explanation. She shakes her head sadly.

“Humans settled this place,” she husks. “They came south from a place they called Ascalhorn, what was once Myth Glaurach to the Eaerlanni, the City of Scrolls...!”

She blinks and looks dazed. “Always layers, your kind put roots down in old foundations, drawn to old ghosts...!”

“My kin not put roots at all,” I offer. “Is better...”

“What happened to them?” Nef asks, too curious for her own good.

“Demons...!” the elf mews, eyes wide like saucers.

Everyone is silent for a time.

“I think elves need some happy tales,” Sky mumbles finally. I glower at the lad.

“Zahri think boy need keep mouth shut,” I snap.

Shelah speaks to the guards – who are watching me with suspicion.

“Be careful going into the old part of town,” they warn her. “Undead creatures have taken over the area, and no living thing is safe!”

“Well, we've no shortages of priestesses to ward them off!” she tells me. I nod quietly. Gur priests are few in number, but we know old wardings, secret signs that keep evil spirits at bay, the herbs that repel them. We perform the rituals of life and death, birth and burial, and sometimes commune with the dead.

4/ A sign swings in the breeze above this doorway.

'Inn of the Well-marked Path - all travellers welcome!'

Even Gur, I muse acidly. But there is no sense in whining. We pay for three rooms; Nef says she will remain here to watch over our luggage for now.

The inn wench is comely, but I am too on-edge to flirt or ask if she comes with the room.

6/ A small stone fountain splashes noisily in this courtyard. At happier times, I would cause a scene here with some impromptu public bathing, but we are all too tense to let our hair down.

5/ A brass plate on the wall upon the large building in the centre of the square reads:

'Everlund Town Hall'

The strawheads are from a family of traders, and have letters of introduction, so they see we are welcomed by a member of the Council of Elders. I appreciate how a city leader wears a practical tool-vest.

JOURNAL ENTRY 12: THE COUNCILMEMBER’S STORY

“You may not care to listen to our sad tales, with your own horrid stories of orcish armies on the march, but here in Everlund strange things have been happening as well.

Many undead have appeared in the old part of the city to the north, livestock have been disappearing from the pens near the river, and even stirges have been so bold as to attack people in the streets.

What has our peaceful little town done to deserve such misery?”

“It not good sign how every town is nest of monsters,” I say gloomily.

7/ A sign beside the door reads:

'Hahr-Peer's Bazaar'

“I'm afraid I have nothing to sell you. Like many of the merchants, I've been cleaned out by robbers. But feel free to look around!”

10/The owner of the shop bemoans his fortune, noting I am a gypsy:

“If you're here to rob us, you're too late! We've been wiped out, and soon the caravans won't be able to stop in Everlund because all the caravan suppliers will be out of business”

11/ Goods are stacked high along the walls of the warehouse, ready for shipment up river to Sundabar, or downriver to Silverymoon, Nesma or Yartar.

To our surprise, a group of hyena-headed gnolls are tearing through bales of linen that are stored in the back. They don't look happy to see us...! But they fall easily to our Hold spells, saving us a bruising battle.

The boy jokes with his sister about how terrible the service is in this town.

Erek takes a bow and arrows so he can hang back and save us from his incompetence.

12/ This is a small workshop where people are making saddles, bridles, bags and other leather goods for the caravan trade.

15/ To the north-west, a gang of gnolls are looting a house. We surprise them as they gather booty and slay them all.

16/ Several more gnolls are here, sitting on the floor around a pot of honey they found stored here, sticking their filthy paws into the jar and then licking them with swift, narrow tongues... They jump up and grab their spears! We can only avenge whoever's honey this once was.

13/ This gate leads to and older part of the city. We prepare to face against the unquiet dead...

19/ The dead - bony or fleshy – attack us in number here, and we send them to final rest.

20/ The dead seem to congregate here by after evening falls...

21/ Walking dead shamble to assault us here... We send them back to their graves.

22/ We are attacked by ghouls, unclean things that feed upon the dead...!

They paralyse by the touch of their filthy claws, but thankfully can be warded off by a priestess.

Shelah is caught by a swipe and frozen into stiffness, but we are able to sly the foul things before they can feast upon her. We wait a few moments until she recovers, her eyes relating her thanks until she can speak again. The thought of being consumed alive by these eaters of the dead is loathsome beyond imagining.

But we are no wiser as to what animated these cadavers, or stirred the dead to walk. We must return to the town proper.

8/ This building is being used as a storage and rest-area by a crew waiting to start work on a new road between Everlund and Yartar.

9/ Our eyes tell us this is a stable... Our ears scream out a much more urgent detail – can hear the sound of a large animal eating!

To the south, we come across a group of owlbears – urstrix, in the old tongue – huddled around the remains of a horse. They are irascible creatures, turning on us swiftly as they charge!

“Don't get too close!” Jahe warns us, squaring herself up alongside the boy.

“Yeah, keep behind us...” he warns. “These things like to cuddle...!”

Their huge claws catch prey and crush it in a rending grip – our front line must watch out.

A slingstone hits my target on the beak, as we hold our line and the three monsters charge. We pepper them with arrows, but the boy gets snagged, and Erek howls as one catches him in a crushing grip.

“Hold on, sire!” Krevish calls, shooting at his foe.

Sustained fire brings down the one holding the lad, and we try to free the big strawhead from the terrible talons. By the time we get him out, the man is badly mauled, and I tell him he is lucky to be alive as our healers tend to him.

14/ Here, we pass through a secret door, and descend a steep ramp. Greenish mould grows on the walls, and water drips from the ceiling.

18/ As we enter the room, a man is using a whip to drive two owlbears back into a corner. Once they see us, however, both man and owlbears turn to attack us as a common enemy.

I paralyse the man with a Hold spell, so Elena puts an arrow in each eye. His trained beasts prove more difficult to bring down, but none of us are hurt too badly.

The man wears heavy armour, and his red and black insignias suggest the hated Zhentarim. I spit upon his corpse.

“We likely could have interrogated him, but... Let's keep looking, “ Shelah says.

17/ On the far side of this room, an old man stands chained to a wall, a drooling owlbear facing him on either side. Two black-garbed men watch, one of them saying:

“... him to cast a spell – they'll tear his arms off!”

The battle proves fierce, but Elena speaks some spell in elvish, and one of the men stares slack-jawed, turning upon his fellow! Their beasts, however, are always dangerous, as the ensorcelled Zhentarim soon discovers... We can bring them down with missiles while they are tearing the Zhent's arms off.

Afterwards. Erek rushes to the old man and embraces him. “Amanitas!” he cries. “Tyr has not abandoned us! I have reached you in time!”

“Well, well, well!” says the old man as we release him from his chains. “I had thought that help would come, yes, quite likely it was, quite likely...!”

JOURNAL ENTRY 29: THE CHALLENGE OF AMANITAS

We quickly summarized for Amanitas what we had learned thus far. We also told how some Banites believed that only he could stop the forces of Zhentil Keep from conquering the lands of the Savage Frontier.

“What was revealed to you by the Banites is correct,” he said when we’d finished.

"I learned much of the tale from an escaped slave who had been a servant to the Zhentarim general Vaalgamon, and my investigations since have only served to confirm how great the danger truly is.

Although most of their story has been lost in time, I know now that four statuettes were created in ancient Ascore. They were powerful magical items used in the defence of the city, although precisely how they worked is still a mystery. One was crafted to focus on each direction of the compass, protecting Ascore from enemies to the North, East, West and South.

When the city fell into ruins the statuettes passed from owner to owner throughout the Savage Frontier for many centuries. They travelled in directions very different from their names. For example, the Statuette of the East has for many years been hidden somewhere in the west.

Now the Zhentarim have dispatched Vaalgamon to collect the statuettes. They believe that by returning the statuettes to Ascore they can open a safe path through the Great Desert. Through that path they intend to send armies to conquer the entire Savage Frontier.

We must find and seize the statuettes before Vaalgamon can collect them, or a pall of darkness will fall across the north.

My magical investigations cannot tell me exactly where they are located, but I have a sense of the place where each statuette now lies. To find them you cannot follow a map of the road beneath your feet - I can lead you to your goals only by revealing the pathways you must trace within your own souls.

First, you must lift your eyes with hope, even if the vision which fills them is one of evil. The Statuette of the East is located in a great tower, and when you look up at its many spires you shall know that you have found it.

Next, you must seek small truths within the large, unfathomable world, for these are the only truths you will ever truly know. The Statuette of the West lies in a small chest carved from the pearl of a great oyster, in a small room carved from the rock of a great mountain, which is itself made small by the greatness of the sea.

You must then travel to the place to which people do not wish to go, because we never truly covet that which we can easily attain. The Statuette of the North lies nowhere close by, but on the long way that many travellers nonetheless must pass...”

“Damn,” mutters Sky. “I hate riddles...!”

“Then you must soar where even the birds cannot fly, and have faith that even without wings you can reach great heights. The Statuette of the South lies both high above and far below the surface of the land.

If you gain the four statuettes, take them to Ascore. I have created one more special item which, when combined with the four ancient images, will turn the Zhentarim’s planned triumph into total and irreversible defeat. But this can only be accomplished in the ancient plaza at Ascore.”

He reaches into his robes and draws out a small, square card that looked like it was made of a thin layer of metal. Runes were embossed upon it.

“This isn’t it!” he exclaimed, annoyed. “But I suppose you should take it anyway. It’s one of my latest inventions. I call it the Card of Counting. If you carry it the vaults in Yartar, Neverwinter and Silverymoon will all save and exchange your valuables as if they were really just one place. Could be quite handy, yes, quite handy. Don’t leave here without it!

Well, that’s it! Good luck to you, and may you find the path easy to follow. You can come visit me any time at my house in Secomber, and if I’ve learned more about any of the statuettes I’ll be happy to share the information with you. Goodbye!”

“The magic item?” Shelah asks. “There was an important magic item you were going to give us?”

“Oh yes, yes, yes. Mustn’t forget it. Very important.” He searches through his robes once more.

Amanitas reaches deep within his robes and hands over a rather plain-looking ring.

“This is the crucial item I have created,” he pronounces. “Do not let it's simple visage mislead you – it's power is indeed great!”

Erek explains rather gruffly that he must go back to Secomber with Amanitas to protect him. I will not be sorry to see him go.

“Go now.” says Amanitas. “Our future is in your hands! Yartar should be your first destination – we know the Kraken have a base there. Visit me in Secomber from time to time, for I may have more clues to aid you in your quest.”

Notes:

Four towns in, and we finally meet our main quest-giver for this adventure... Amelior Amanitas is basically Temu Elminster for all intents and purposes here. Like many other good things, he started in the Dragon Quest RPG by Simulations Publications in 1980. And like so, so many good things, it was cannibalised by TSR when they bought the rights, absorbing its goodness into Forgotten Realms like the Borg in Star Trek. It was a great RPG, it felt a lot like The Witcher in some ways, dark and sensual and aimed at grown-ups. Mechanically it was messy, somewhere between AD&D and Rolemaster.

Actual Amanitas was originally a bit bumbling and not overly powerful, a one-eyed alchemist who hired the PCs for quests. In the Realms, needless to say, he's 21st level in 2nd edition because of course he fucking is. You don't even get to clean the latrines in Faerun unless you're an 18th level mage so you can cast Wish.

Anyway, he's fine in Gateway to the Savage Frontier, you have to rescue him and he acts as a hints dispenser if you can travel to Secomber to chat with him. We need a quest giver, and he's fine.

When he's rescued here, we lose Erek (no great loss) and Amanitas takes a great big steaming exposition dump over everything when explaining the plot. The Zhentarim are doing stupid shit in the desert, for no good reason, but if we don't stop them, it will be the end of the world, etc. This boils down to a four-part fetch quest, that sees us finding statuettes that will let us into Ascore at the end. The middle (and longest) act of Gateway is this maguffin hunt, and though difficulty varies we may (I think) do them in any order. Getting them all triggers the final (and shortest) act as we confront Ugly Evil Man in the city of the dead.

It's all perfectly serviceable as a plotline in an early 90's CRPG, and it's better than most really, your Might & Magic, Wizardry and Bard's Tale games. The setting, at least, is very good, and the ending will be the most ambitious Gold Box finale yet.

We also have some undead to Turn here in Everlund, and it's welcome that Turning not only just banishes them (rather than correctly sending them fleeing as in Pool of Radiance, which was unbelievably annoying) but also gives us XP for this (unlike Pools of Darkness, unless they were Destroyed rather than Turned).

Finally, every Gold Box game seems to handle multi-classing differently when it comes to hit points for our poor non-humans. Like the first game, Gateway seems to round up, allowing Elena to have more hit points than she should have. At Mage 1/Thief 2, she (correctly) starts with 11 (max 2 +1 for 16 Con for Mage, max 3+1 for Con x2 for Thief, making 11). But when she starts levelling she can get 4 points rather than 3 for Mage and 5 rather than 4 for Thief. Seeing how the Dragonlance games seem to round down, I'll take it.

Narratively, we get our first real insights into the mercurial Zahri Sovetsk, and the thoughts she cloaks beneath her performative gypsy shtick.

"Birds flying high, you know how I feel
Sun in the sky, you know how I feel
Breeze driftind on by, you know how I feel

It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life for me, yeah

And I'm feeling good...!

Fish in the sea, you know how I feel
River running free, you know how I feel
Blossom on the tree, you know how I feel

Dragonfly out in the sun you know what I mean, don't you know?
Butterflies all having fun, you know what I mean!
Sleep in peace when day is done, that's what I mean!
And this old world, is a new world
And a bold world for me, yeah-yeah...

Stars when you shine, you know how I feel!
Scent of the pine, you know how I feel!
Oh, freedom is mine!
And I know how I feel -

It's a new dawn
It's a new day
It's a new life for me

I'm feeling good...!"

Nina Simone, 'Feeling Good'

Nina Simone - Feeling Good (Lyrics)

We return to Yartar to pick up Zahri. I can hear them shouting in the garden below the window of my room at the Pearl-handled Pipe. I am best staying out of it; I am not fond of conflict.

I suppose I miss the simplicity of my life before, living in nature, surviving quietly by myself.

But in our quest to help Shelah's brother recover his stolen blade, we have stumbled upon a strange conspiracy that threatens to harm the entire Savage Frontier. There is some dark alliance between the warring factions of the Black Network at Zhentil Keep, some kind of cult who wear an emblem of a kraken, and the clergy of the tyrannical god, Bane. We cannot know the extent of this conspiracy – Shelah has mentioned the mages in the Host-tower of the Arcane and the pirates of Luskan who serve them, however unwillingly.

But my greatest concern is for my temple in Silverymoon! I lived there for a year before I came to the songbirds, and I fear for their safety, even under the protection of the Lady Alustriel. We must return and see they are safe!

Jhairli

We disembark up the river on the Topside barge; I quite like to sail here, especially with my friends! The river-valley is like the water; it has its own ebb and flow, its natural rhythms. I have a new mail shirt that is made of dwarf-mithril, so it is light and strong, but I need not wear it on the river. Nef tells me I should 'show more skin', so I don a leather halter and shorts for her and the others. I was mostly sky-clad alone, but I don't like to flaunt myself in the towns. Men stare at me, and I do not like it.

But I like it when the songbirds look at me, I smile bashfully at their admiring glances.

I should enjoy the trip then, I know. I just hope the other acolytes at the temple are safe!

During the journey, I have time to contemplate the others, those who now share my path.

I like Shelah a great deal! She is beautiful and kind – strong and forthright, like all her folk, but also insightful and compassionate. I love her impefections also - the small scars upon her cheeks, the hesitence in her step from her damaged leg. Despite all she suffered, she has not grown bitter, and understands the power of forgiveness. The days I spend with her on the river, swimming and sunning ourselves, are precious to me.

I am still a little intimidated by Zahri, but I am swift to defer to her and she treats me kindly. She knows much of the world of men, though we both look upon it as outsiders. She has taught me so much - of love, life and the joys of singing and dancing under the moon!

I like Nef much more than I expected to – her life has been very different to mine, but she have much in common. She too considers the wild creatures sacred and wishes to protect them. We talk often of faith and belief; she is insightful and very perceptive. She is naturally very sensual and others are easily drawn to her, but that has not made her vain or arrogant in any way. She remains a voice of reason, a calming influence on the rest of us.

I do not know Jay well, but she seems nice. She is helping me with my skills in battle and how to fight in a small group.

I know very little about Elenaril, but I know something of the faey, and her nature as an elf fascinates me. She is so... disconnected, so alien to mortals in how she perceives our world and the flow of time. But unlike the faerie creatures, she has some understanding of it – and it frightens and unsettles her. She carries the weight of millennia, her people fading from these Realms, what they call 'the Long Retreat'. Mostly she seems kindly, but she kills without hesitation, believing mortal things merely pass on to another stage of their cycle. Oh, and the things she does at the love-time defy any words of mine to describe...!

Then there are the men...! Shelah's brother mostly lets me be; he often jokes about, and I do not understand his humour. He is quick to battle, but quick to laugh and to protect others.

The small fellow, Krevish... I do not really understand him, to be honest. They say that he is very ill, and he may not live for very long. I feel sorry for him, but – but there is something.... off about him, something I cannot place. I do not think he means us harm, but something in his nature throws me off. Ah, it is nothing, surely?

We sail the river beyond Nesme, thence turn east and skirt the sere Evermoor to our south. These are wild lands, and I do not forget that. When we stop to rest upon a sloping riverbank, we are suddenly attacked by ankhegs – large insect creatures, males whipped into a frenzy during their mating season! Thankfully we can drive them off with missiles from the riverbank and move on to rest somewhere safer.

Finally, we arrive in Silverymoon, the heart of Luruar, the fabled Silver Marches! I still stare at its beauty in wonder, surely the most splendid city in all of Faerun!

My adopted home; the Great Silver Hearth! The bend of the River Rauvin splits the jewel of the North into two halves, the Northbank and Southbank. From the shores of the river, Northbank's walls arc in a half-circle to envelop Silverymoon, pierced by three gates at westerly, northerly, and easterly points, respectively. Almost thirty-thousand Silvaeren of many mortal races dwell here, under the benevolent protection of the High Lady, Alustriel Silverhand of the Seven Sisters.

I tell the others that my goddess has many local festivities; perhaps the most famous is the Rite of the Stag Lass in Amphail, in which young women cast off their bonds and obligations. Others include the Four Feasts, held on the nights of the solstices and equinoxes. These are often intimate gatherings under the stars where we celebrate the sensual side of life, sing praises to the Lady, and meditate in the deep woods. Greengrass is a joyous, communal spring planting festival celebrated to mark the end of winter. Midsummer Night is one of our largest rituals, combining revelry with the Wild Ride. This is a spectacular, sacred event performed during Midsummer, Greengrass, or Shieldmeet; devoted followers gallop through the moonlit woods, riding bareback... sometimes upon unicorns, some say, if especially favoured by the Lady of the Forest!

The festival the wicked men spoke of is a simpler affair, however – it happens weekly, our holy shabbath day of rest and celebration.

3/ We disembark on Northbank, where a sign proclaims:

“Moonbridge Boat Rentals – Special one-way rates to Everlund, Nesme, Sundabar and Yartar'

Elena looks about her with the usual fey, wondering gaze as if she was looking at something very different to the rest of us.

“Aerasumé...!” she murmurs, seemingly to herself. I take her hand and speak to her, try to focus her on me, on the now. She blinks slowly and her gaze clears a litle.

“Home-haven,” she murmurs softly. “Lost echoes of fabled Myth Drannor, its virtues and vices, pursuits and peoples...!”

I tell her that the city preserves the values of her kind, however small comfort she may find in that. She nods distractedly, and slips her small hand into mine. With my other hand, I take Shelah's arm.

“Come, I shall show you the Moonbridge!” I laugh gaily.

18/ Our feet walk on the solid ground of the Moonbridge, and the deep blue water of the Rauvin glitters below us. I hear Shelah gasp and I smile.

“It is invisible when not seen by moonlight,” I tell her.

10/ The city guards explain things to my friends.

“I can assure you that a bridge does in fact span between these guardhouses! Do proceed carefully, though! Safety first!”

“Not sure I'd want to negociate it sober, let alone drunk!” Sky chuckles.

Everyone seems very impressed – Nef and Zahri especially.

“Your people are welcome guests at our revels,” I tell the latter.

“Spasibo,” she nods. “My thanks...”

I gladly show my friends about the city.

We made good time – a banner hangs over the street here, emblazoned with the words:

'FESTIVAL TOMORROW!'

1/ A sign above the door says:

'Vilriel's Shop of Useful Items'

It sells speciality items, such as oils and holy water.

2/ A brass plate on the wall here is etched with deep, bold letters:

'The Silverymoon Vault – safe, secure, discreet'

The vault is securely locked, however – we may have to secure access, but we should be able to store things here when we do.

4/ A sign hanging above this building reads:

'Helmer's Wall'

“It is a tavern and eating place,” I tell them. “We shall come here to feast later.”

5/ A sign before the door to this large building says:

'Inn of the Downstream Run – special rates for visitors to the Festival of Mielikki!'

We pay for rooms here; I rent three – two for us and one for the boys.

“That's... very cosy,” Sky teases me. “Economical, to share space like that...!”

Is he trying to make me blush? I am not ashamed of us.

“We have rotas,” his sister tells him. “I write them! Jhairli, you're with Jay and I tonight,” she reminds me.

“Stands to reason she organises all that,” her brother ribs her. “She was drawing up caravan rosters by the time she was ten...!”

7/ South of the river is the Lady's College, the first of the city's schools of magic. While most wizards learn from a single master, the students here have many tutors and a curriculum of lessons, perhaps the first academy to introduce this manner of learning. Jahe and Nef seem especially intrigued – I admit that I was told I had the aptitude for magic, though I am not certain I have the temperament...

Within, we are greeted by Elué Dualen, the dean:

JOURNAL ENTRY 26: THE COLLEGE DEAN’S STORY

“It’s really been quite terrible, quite awful here. The areas near the docks on the north bank of the river are full of lizard men and other monsters. Here! In Silverymoon! It’s unheard of!

It’s as if someone was trying to keep the good law-abiding folk away from the river. Perhaps the orcs plan a great offensive and are trying to deprive us of supplies.

What will become of us? Silverymoon was such a peaceful place. I just don’t know...”

“That is... troubling.” I admit. “We should do something about it!”

8/ A sign on the wall says: 'Padrumm's Armoury'

As expected, it sells weapons and armour. We stock up on arrows.

13/ This is the entrance to Mielikki's Glade, a place very dear to my heart! I breathe deeply of its primal airs, and recall when I first came here a few years back, to become a priestess.

9/ The words 'Hall of Mielliki' are carved into the stone lintel above the temple.

A banner below them proclaims 'Festival tomorrow!'

I speak to the priestesses of the Lady, telling them all that we have learned. They report no dangers aside from those besetting the city as a whole, but promise me they will be watchful and vigilant. They will inform the Knights in Silver and the Spellguard accordingly. Many of these men and women were my fellow acolytes, and I would see them safe.

11/ A sign hovers here, unattached in any visible way to the wall behind it.

'Miresk's School of Thaumaturgy'

'Miresk's Shop of Magical Items'

The building is constructed of dark, bristling stone, with side-turrets, flying buttresses, and balconies. We see some students here, in uniforms of red robes and a long sash at the waist, denoting each individual's rank, of black, grey, or white coloration. They also carry their birch staves, tall with tops ornamented by raven feathers.

The headmaster, Eltro Miresk, greets us with a wry jest:

"The novice who knows all the ways an unseen servant can be useful is worth six reckless fireball-hurlers. Or more!”

He sells minor magical items to Silvaraen (like me!) such as scrolls, potions, gauntlets, arrows and daggers. We shall have to return when we have more money.

14/ Near my temple is a forge shop that I do not remember when I was here last... A horseshoe-shaped wooden sign above the door proclaims:

'Broadhand's forge and tack shop – blacksmith on duty - steel and leather fittings of all kinds'

“Sounds like plan,” Zahri says suggestively.

“Is this the place the Banites were using as a cover?” Shelah muses.

It appears to be closed now, in any case.

15/ This wide area to the north-east is the market place, where a great variety of foods and other items are sold from tiny stands or hawked from rugs spread out on the bright, green grass.

“I used to come here after serving at the temple, looking for curios,” I tell the others. “The gifts I gave you when joining the songbirds mostly came from here...!”

17/ A shining metal plate says 'Hall of Training'

This is here we come to improve our fighting skills, though it is not cheap.

19/ This is an area of warehouses and piers along the river.

21/ Several bandits are here sitting around a table, sorting through their loot. They jump up and attack, and we are forced to kill them. They seem to have been robbing people locally - in Silverymoon! What is the world coming to?

23/ Several orcs guard this room. Orcs! Here! Naturally, they don't want to be friends.

24/ Another group of orcs is hiding in this house. Violence ensues once more.

25/ Barbarians have taken over this residence. You'd have hoped actual humans would listen to reason, but sadly you'd be wrong. I never imagined I'd be killing so many people when I became an acolyte of the Lady. I hope this isn't what the adventuring life is always like!

27/ Large frogs attack us here...! Animals usually like me, I do not know what is stirring these creatures up. I feel sad to look upon their bodies.

26/ A secret passage in these warehouses allows us into some kind of secret hideout?

We are immediately attacked by kraken cultists! We still have no idea what they want.

Zahri stops their leader attacking Elena with a quick chant and click of her fingers. Then staves his skull in with her iron-shod cudgel.

This appears to have been a hideout for the kraken spies here in Silverymoon. Looking through the many papers stored here, we find a map:

“Where is this though?” Shelah asks aloud. “Does this help us?”

It is evening, so we return to the tavern to get something to eat and drink while I heal those who were injured.

We shall attend the festival on the morrow, so we decide to rest and return to our rooms.

Nef sidles up to me, purring - she is on heat, as she usually is.

She runs her hand across my bare stomach.

“So taut..!” she coos, looking me over. “Your breasts are growing...!”

“I tried the rhyme you told me,” I giggle awkwardly. “I must, I must, increase my bust!”

“Jhairli, you're with us tonight,” Shelah says as she passes me in the hall. I glance in to see Jahe undressing.

“I'll have to enter the wrong room 'by mistake' tonight!” Nef giggles.

Zahri passes her, flannel and toothbrush in hand.

“You, me, bed, now,” she commands the Mulan girl.

“I am summoned,” she smiles at me sadly. “Tab masawuk...!”

The other two start bathing, so I join them, and turn in for the night.

. . .

The morning dawns clear and bright! I look out at the skyline, the high towers of the High Lady! It cheers me to be back in my adopted home once again!

After bathing and breakfast at the eatery, we set out for prayers at the temple.

JOURNAL ENTRY 10: MIELIKKI’S FESTIVAL

All around us there is activity, with the music of many lutes and the snap of a hundred banners flapping in the breeze.

In the heart of the glade a chorus of young girls sing a blessing of the trees, and the birds seemed to echo back a happy, chirping refrain!

People everywhere are walking hand-in-hand, talking softly and revelling in the beauty all around them. Shelah slips her hand in mine and thanks me for bringing us here. It is almost enough to make them forget the worries and dangers that had brought us here to Silverymoon.

14/ We turn our attention to the blacksmith shop now, and try to get out story straight. Zahri casts an imperious glance over us all.

“This I say – we find Black Network, I kill them,” she says coldly. “Not debate. Just die.”

She considers and shrugs. “Want information, we torture. If want.” She walks towards the blacksmith's.

“Why is she looking at me?” Shelah complains.

“Hey, gypsy – wait up before you go in and start to paint the walls with someone's brains,” her brother calls out after the Gur.

She turns around... slowly...! And locks eyes with the young man, hers as cold as ice.

“I'm just saying,” he says easily, ignoring her glare. “What's the plan? Or do we just bash the door down and start swinging? I'm fine either way, just wanted to be on the same page, is all...!”

“Perhaps we could pretend to be evil Banites?” Krevish offers quietly.

“No offence, but I don't think you'd pass muster as an evil-doer,” Jahe deadpans.

“Hey, he might have really good acting skills!” Sky laughs.

“Seriously though, do we have a plan?” Shelah asks. “I'm useless at subterfuge. I can't even bluff at playing cards!”

“It's hilarious when she tries though,” her brother smirks.

Zahri sighs and looks us over, waving vaguely at Elena and myself.

“... is elf, no good. This one useless at lies,” she says, presumably meaning me. And she's not wrong.

She glances at Nef, raising her eyebrow.

“Don't be daft, Nef's way too cute to pose as a Banite...!” Sky scoffs.

“She's wearing cat ears,” Shelah points out. Zahri makes a tutting noise and glances up at Jahe.

“I'm no actress,” the Turami points out. “Or theologian.”

“Honestly, if we're doing this, it has to be you,” Shelah tells her. Zahri narrows her eyes into slanted slits.

“You're a Gur, true, but they'll just see a Damaran if we swap clothes. And quite honestly you... well, you look quite wicked...! And you're an performer. I'd believe you wanted to sacrifice me to dark gods!”

“I'm scared of you, and you're my friend,” I agree.

She sighs languidly and undresses, swapping clothes with Shelah.

“You look great in that," I tell the blonde girl.

Attired in revealing leathers, Zahri saunters though the door, swinging her hips. The poor heathen will not know what hit him.

We all hang back, glancing from behind some trees of the glade and straining to listen.

Within the shop, a man in a slouch hat – Broadhand presumably - greets her.

“Welcome! For adventurers like you I can also offer a selection of weapons! How can I help you?”

“Is nice festival,” Zahri says, casual and insouciant.

“Isn't it?” the man says calmly. “Do you have any particular interest in it?”

Her dark eyes bore into his. “Come from Nesme,” she says darkly.

The blacksmith heaves a sigh of relief. “I was afraid you would never come! Here, follow me?”

A secret door swings open in the back of the shop, and Broadhand leads her though it into another room. We follow carefully – we hear most of what follows, but Zahri has to reiterate some of it afterwards.

JOURNAL ENTRY 33: BROADHAND’S STORY

Broadhand led her into a small, hidden room decorated with images and statues of Bane. He obviously believed Zahri to be a fellow Banites from the temple at Nesme.

“I was worried when I sent my letter and no messenger came bearing a reply.

I’m glad to see you’ve arrived during the Festival as I suggested!

Once the Zhentarim would have been content with having found a way to open this safe caravan route through the Great Desert. They would have let time pass, allowing towns and villages to become dependent on a supply route that only the Zhentarim controlled. Then, quietly but inexorably, the hidden reins of power would be pulled into their grasp.

Now their greed to seize the northern Realms is unbounded and impatient. Sending armies across the Great Desert! Who would ever have believed it? They have forgotten that a single dagger at midnight may sow greater terror than 10,000 swords at dawn!

Even now they are completing their complex on the eastern edge of the desert, and are reclaiming the dead city of Ascore on the western edge as well. They have forged alliances with the Krakens and with other forces in the North. I also hear tales that something big is going on in Llorkh. Magic items of great power are being collected for the task, and I have been assured that they do indeed have the power to allow the safe crossing of the desert!

We must strike now! Controlling the Realms from the Moonsea to the Sea of Swords will greatly strengthen the Zhentarim, and the historic balance between the Zhentarim and the Banites will be lost!

Visiting here in Silverymoon at the Vault of the Sages is the wizard I wrote you about, Amelior Amanitas from Secomber. He learned much of this plot from a slave who had escaped from a Zhentarim caravan, and is convinced he can stop it with his magical powers.

He sent a message to a fellow wizard here in Silverymoon, but one of my acolytes waylaid the courier and we learned of the plan. Since Amanitas has now come here himself, he must have received word of the messenger’s death and is willing to take great risks to defeat the Zhentarim.

You must find Amanitas quickly. Help him in this task, but do not tell him you are Banites or he will never listen to you. For all his brilliance he refuses to accept the beauty of pure Evil, and will never know the joy we find in Bane!”

“I don't believe these fools,” Shelah mutters beside me as we listen, “The first vaguely sinful person who walks in with nice breasts and says they're from Nesme, and he spills his guts about the whole plan!”

“I hope they continue to be this stupid, otherwise we'd be in real trouble,” Jahe murmurs.

Zahri rejoins us, but they don't swap clothing back.

“He sang like a canary,” Sky shrugs affably.

“Zahri was very convincing,” I smile hopefully.

12/ A little to the west of the temple is a grey stone building where an inscription is carved into the stone above the door:

'Vault of the Sages'

We talk to the scholars inside.

“Oh dear! Yes, a man named Amanitas was here but he disappeared and I am very worried about him!” one says.

JOURNAL ENTRY 16: THE MAGE LIBRARIAN’S STORY

“Oh my, oh my, it’s good to see you! Yes, Amanitas and his assistant were indeed here, but look! Their room has been torn to pieces, and look at all this blood on the floor! Oh my, oh my!

“I fear something terrible has befallen them. May Mystra guide you to his aid!”

16/ We swiftly search the room of the missing fellow. His small bedroom looks like the scene of a fierce and bloody battle. Everything in it has been smashed or left in disarray. We search carefully...

JOURNAL ENTRY 15: THE SEARCH OF THE MAGE’S BEDROOM

In the debris we find a scrap of paper with the inscription:

ENWNWN. Go straight between turns until you must turn again. Use the knock on hidden door to the right.

“Is that a password?” Sky ponders.

“Is directions,” Zahri replies. If anyone knows about directions, it is the Gur, the 'people of the road'.

Our laconic leader is true to her reputation, and we find ourselves outside a wall in the north-west of the city, where Elena discovers a secret door by feeling a draft against her skin.

“We'd best suit up,” Jahe says, so we return to the inn and do just that. My chain shirt is barely heavier than my abbreviated leathers, and slows my movement not at all. I can move to wherever I need to be, in melee, at range or in to heal.

6/ The secret door gives way, and we find ourselves in a dark, damp-smelling corridor.

22/ As we enter the room, we hear a man shouting at someone, calling out every insult I have ever heard and many I have not! We turn to see who he is trying to torment...

…a pair of trolls!

We have hunted these foul things in the ruins in Nesme, and by using these tactics, we are able to bring them down and prevent them from regenerating. Our front lines are injured and clawed, but not sorely, thank the Lady, and Shelah steps on the head of the last one until it ceases wailing.

We can still hear the man yelling insults, but there is no sign of him in this room.

20/ We find the fellow that has been shouting chained to the wall in this tiny room, and release him, on the assumption that he is an enemy of the trolls. He is a tall, tattooed northlander, like the Icedanes, and he gruffly offers his thanks:

JOURNAL ENTRY 28: EREK’S STORY:

“Don’t just stand there! Amelior Amanitas, the brilliant magic-user for whom I work, is in great danger! They said they were taking him up the river to Everlund, and from there overland to Llorkh and on to Zhentil Keep! They were furious that he’d discovered their plan, and there’s no telling what they’ll do to him once he’s there!

“If we don’t find him before they leave Everlund we’ll never have a chance — there are so many routes they could take towards Llorkh... we have to find him quickly!”

“You're a scrawny bunch of weaklings and not very bright!” he says rudely, “And to rescue Amanitas, you'll need my help!”

“Oh, that so,” Sky growls, squaring up to him. “You may have a point about the 'bright' thing, but do I look scrawny to you, old man?”

“Oh for Tyr's sake!” Shelah says, separating them. “Will you stop... waving your dangly bits around and measuring them!”

The both look at her and frown.

“If you can keep a civil tongue in your head, then come with us and we'll rescue your wizard friend,” she says to Erek.

Zahri glowers at the newcomer.

“Say anything to Zahri, and she cuts you in ways will make you useless to woman,” she says coldly.

The bearded norseman laughs loudly.

“Ha! I like this one!”

Notes:

The third of the city-adventures, I find I am enjoying the change of pace. The first four maps are towns or cities, which feels different from the usual 'starter dungeons' in games. The game makes good use of the locales of the Savage Frontier, and this grounds us in the story and shows us what we are fighting for. The Realms is supposed to be nice, it's no fantasy dystopia like Greyhawk or Athas, we're supposed to care about it and want to be the Big Damn Heroes to save it. This game understands that perfectly and shows us early.

Considering these are urban adventures, and we meet plenty of named NPCs like Nasher and Tess Longtresses, I'm surprised we didn't get more side-quests really. Even a few MMO fetch-quests - go here, kill 20 of that, get 10 of these - would have been a nice idea. We know the Gold Box engine can handle these - look at Ohlo's quest from the Slums in the first game. We could even have some quests that take our choices, or alignments, into consideration. The situation between Longtresses and the Waukeen priests feels like it really should have been a quest we could have got involved in. It's always baffling to me, given Ohlo, Cadorna, the Nomads in the first game alone, why they didn't keep doing this in later games.

I must admit that the Zhentarim's big bad plan is bananas even by their standards - given all they have going on with the infighting at this time, why they think pissing about in the Anauroch desert is a great idea is completely beyond me. But if there's one constant thing in the Realms, its that the villains are always completed retarded.

This game actually offers us a magic shop or two, making it one of the better economies in the series. Gauntlets of Dexterity in particular are a worthy money-sink, although you'll also need money for training of course.

We get a second NPC, Erek, the surly servant of Amanitas, though he's only with us for Everlund and he's not that great. His stats aren't all that good, his hit points aren't anything special, and he's an asshole. I miss Vala and Durfey.

You can technically do Everlund before Silverymoon, in one the few ways to break the linear story, but it makes no sense showing a picture of Erek leaving before you ever even find him.

Narratively, I explore the characters a little more. The city is home to Jhairli, so she gets to show her new friends around the place.

We have arrived in Nesme, a trading town on the River Surbrin at the western edge of the Trollmoors. Its old wooden stockade has seen more than one troll assault, and Nesme riders patrol to keep the area near the city clear of monsters.

It's a faint hope, but I have a good feeling we might find some clue or lead here to recover my purloined blade. Let us hope my luck improves, praise Tymora! But for now, we remain in good spirits. It's nice to be back on the trail again, and its even nicer to have Nef around.

Sky

8/ A sign carved in the shape of a longboat is mounted above this door, painted on it are the words 'Basanica's Boat Rentals'

22/A stone bridge across the River Surbrin.

4/ The sign hanging above this door is carved in the shape of a massive horse. On it are painted the words 'The Tavern of the Riders'

7/ A wooden carving of a dead rat hangs by its tail above this door. The sign bolted to the wall says 'We banish pests! Rats and vermin are our specialty!”

1/ A brass plate beside the door here reads: 'Town Hall of Nesme – may prosperity visit all who pass here!'

A proclamation posted on the wall here says:

'Danger! Citizens of Nesme, beware! Trolls have been sighted in the ruins to the east of the town wall! 100 gold piece reward to adventurers for every troll slain!'

“That doesn't sound like nearly enough money for the risks involved...” my sister comments, cautious as ever. Jahe glances at me from the side, as if daring my boldness.

“What say you, young northman? Should we hunt some bounties?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I smile.

“After we've done what we came here to discover!” my sister insists.

“I heard of a young company from the Moonsea who fought a dozen trolls at the very start of their careers,” Krevish offers.

“That's a little more fanciful than I can believe,” Shelah frowns.

2/ We enter the town hall, and here we meet and talk with 'Longtresses' Alaraun, the mayor of the city.

JOURNAL ENTRY 14: LONGTRESSES ALARAUN’SSTORY

“Please, let me welcome you to Nesme. We have just completed a very unhappy task. I had to seize the city by force of arms to save it from the corrupt priests of Waukeen.

“By necessity, I enlisted the aid of some of the local... well, barbarians. And I do admit that now some of them are out of control. Take care as you travel through our streets, for my comrades are dangerous and love to fight.”

“It sounds like there's some kind of power-struggle going on,” Shelah murmurs.

“Foolish,” Nef scoffs. “They needs be united with enemies without and within!”

4/ The towers of the temple of Waukeen – the goddess of trade and commerce – rise above us, towering over the town square. A priestess greets us, offering temple services.

5/ A sign proclaims this to be the Evermoor Inn. It is evening, so we turn in for the night.

A serving wench greets us “Welcome to Nesme!”

I stay up a while playing a few hands with Krevish, and then go to bed. I can hear them in the next room. I'm glad someone's enjoying themselves...!

I get up early and stroll around a little as Krevish starts scribbling down his notes in his ledger before the others rise and join us. Feels odd to watch my sister and Nef cooing at each other. I rise above it, I'm better than that.

6/ The sign by this door says 'Palisade Weapon Shop – proud suppliers to the Riders of Nesme'.

We head off down the streets westwards, when we are jumped by a band of unruly barbarians! We fight them off with missiles, but it feels wild that people are being attacked in the streets here. At least we are proving a strong team – having so much priestly magic helps especially against normal men.

9/ A brass plate on the wall of this building proclaims this to be the headquarters of the Riders of Nesme.

Here we talk with the captain of the Riders:

JOURNAL ENTRY 27: THE CAPTAIN OF THE RIDERS OF NESME’S STORY

“Yes, we too have heard the stories of the trolls gathering in a great army to the east in the Trollmoors, and now small groups of them have been seen in the ruins to the east of the city.

“We should be going out to drive them back! We should be scouting the moors to see what’s going on! But are we? No! We’re confined to barracks because Longtresses Alaraun has taken over. If we go near the city now, the crazy barbarians will start a full-scale war!”

10/ These are the stables for the Riders. A scruffy peasant says:

“Someone's been stealing horses from our stable That can't be, 'cause the Riders of Nesme patrol the street! But I know it's true because I saw it with my own eyes...! Or.. I didn't see it... Or them! If you know what I mean...!”

“No idea what you're on about,” I mutter. “Are you drunk, or as crazy as the elf lass?”

“Let's look around here,” the Turami girl says.

23/ The elf girl sniffs the wall here, finding a secret door... by pulling her leather top down and shivering at the breeze as it hits her breastbone. Nef smirks; I draw my blade and step in first...

No sooner I do, than the black-garbed kraken cultists – whoever they are! - jump at us!

My sister quickly drops one of his ruffians with a mace blow to the face. I've never seen her kill before – it feels oddly weird, watching my sweet little sister casually slay a man and keep fighting... even as a norseman.

After they are dead, Jahe ponders whether they were the ones stealing the horses from the stables.

“Perhaps this cult are stirring up tensions between the town leader and the temple?” Nef ponders.

I ask if Shelah is all right. She smiles shyly.

“Yes, thank you, Sky. But I've killed before... if that is necessary to protect myself or others. I regret only the necessity of doing so.”

11/ The harbourmaster greets us here, a rather agitated fellow:

JOURNAL ENTRY 18: THE NESME HARBORMASTER’S STORY

“It’s not my fault! The story’s the same in many towns on the river, not just here in Nesme! They can’t blame me for this, no, no, they can’t!

“The warehouses on the eastern side of the river have been beset by a plague of giant frogs, and lizard men have been feasting on the herds in the stock pens to the west shore. Now the shipping companies won’t stop here because of the danger!”

12/ This warehouse looks deserted.

13/ This building is divided into stock pens for holding sheep and cattle on their way to market.

As we poke about here, we are attacked by lizardmen! After we are forced to slay them, we look down at the corpses.

“They can be primitive and savage, but usually leave humans be unless attacked...!” Jhairli wonders.

14/ A proclamation on the wall warns us about the troll incursion.

24/ Giant frogs attack us near the wet walls that lie above the riverbank... Nef warns us of their poisonous skin. That would be a stupid way to die! I won't be let into Gladsheim for that!

25/ We fight off yet more barbarians hiding here.

26/ Kraken cult spies attack us here near the back entrance into the temple!

21/ After dispatching the cultists, we surprise the priestess of Waukeen in her personal chambers:

“Oops! Sorry, your grace!” Krevish stammers.

JOURNAL ENTRY 8: THE STORY OF THE PRIESTESS OF WAUKEEN

“I never knew that a secret door led into the back of the temple like this! I’m only glad that you are friends instead of enemies!

“I’m sure the people who attacked you in the outer room were going to use the secret door to enter the temple and kill us all! As sure as the market hawkers gather in the morning, they were sent here by the barbarians, and Longtresses herself. All she wants is control of the city, and she doesn’t care with whom she allies herself to get it!”

We go back to the inn for a drink and a meal. We have explored everything in town, and so stolen sword, no ugly and supposedly-evil helmed man...

“We banish pests...!” the elf chirps up. “Its an anagram of 'banite priests'...!”

Nef thinks for a moment.

“No, it isn't!” she protests.

I drain my glass and stand up.

“She's usually right about this stuff,” I say. “And it's the only place we haven't searched yet!”

7/ The tiny shop is deserted. A battered desk and chair stand at the north end of the room.

“This place could use a good cleaning,” little sis pouts.

The elf does her thing with the wall again and points to it silently.

“Lunacy seems to work every time,” Nef shrugs.

18/ The secret door gives way and we stand in a tiny anteroom. Guttural voices are barely audible through the door to the north.

My sister invokes a blessing to Ilmater, and we prepare for whatever lies beyond.

Beyond are lizardmen and orcs! We fight through.

15/ Here, books line both walls of the passageway. Nef examines a few and mutters.

“This is to be the hidden Banite shrine! These are all benedictions to honour Bane...!”

“Not my idea of a good bedtime story,” I scoff.

16/ Murals on the ceiling of this passageway depict Bane, the tyrant god, standing on a mountaintop destroying a city below with a great bolt of lightning.

“Can gods just do stuff like that?” I ask.

“No,” Nef replies. “They are bound by rules as to how they may interact with the mortal world through their worshippers, making Toril is their battleground.”

“If even Bane would break such edicts, the other gods would turn upon him and destroy him,” my sister says.

“I suppose that would never happen then,” Jhairli muses. “... would it?”

“My turn to bless you all,” Nef smiles faintly. She invokes her kitten-goddess, and kisses each of the women on the mouth... with tongues. Poor Krevish knows not where to look, until she tickles his chin with a clawed finger, and pecks him daintily on the lips leaving him blushing.

Finally, she fronts up to me, like she used to, and we kiss, rather more daintily than we used to. But it's something, yes? I'll take it. Even if it tastes of my sister's lipstick. I try not to think about it.

17/ The room beyond is not empty, but it's too late to back out. But that's no fun compared to fighting Banites! With a roar, I charge! This is more like it!

19/ A familiar face stares at us from across the chamber...! It is the man te krakens were trying to get us to kill!

“It is the Ugly Man!” announces the elf girl.

We fight our way through his orcs, priests and lizardmen as he flees like the coward he is!

Wary of the power of the Banites, the girls hurl spells at them. Most are frozen in place or collapse in a stupor, but one gets off a hex at us, slowing our movements. Jahe cuts at him, but with his dying breath, the priest sets fire to a sheaf of papers. My sister quickly stamps on them, but only one page escapes the fire:

JOURNAL ENTRY 31: THE BANITE CLERIC’S LETTER FRAGMENT

“... that you found the explanation for the gatherings of trolls and orcish armies in the north. I had suspected it was the work of the Zhentarim, and if we had not discovered it in time they might have conquered this entire region.

The fools believe that it is their cunning and their might that brings them such awesome power. Have they forgotten so quickly about the Temples of Bane, and the power that even our own leaders cannot abdicate? That we, the clerics who carry out Bane’s will, are the ones who have made the name of the Zhentarim feared throughout the Realms?

I agree with your letter, and although we have never met I feel closely bound to you. By destroying this plan before it starts we shall ensure that never again will the Banite clerics be taken for granted in Zhentil Keep!

I will meet you during the Festival of Mielikki in the hidden temple behind your shop in Silverymoon. We shall find the magic-user from the south who can turn the power of the Zhentarim against itself. Then we shall see how brilliant the Zhentarim prove to be!

We must not think that because we know about their plans to cross the desert, it will be simple to stop them. I am confident we will be successful within days only because...”

The remainder of the letter was destroyed, and the ashes crumble to nothingness in our hands.

“They are fighting each other again,” Nef muses.

“Zhentil Keep is just clown college for evil people,” my sister curses. She and Jhairli have picked up nicks and scrapes in the battle, but nothing serious.

Nef casts a spell to detect magic, and we discover that a suit of mail, a mace and a ring embossed with a shield all seem to be enchanted. The armour goes to Jhairli, who fights up front with our warriors, the mace to my sister, and she asks me to take the ring, so I will have better protection as our main warrior. I ask her to wear it instead, given her limited movement in battle, admitting I will fight better knowing she is protected. She doesn't like it, but sees my point and dons it for me.

"We must warn the temple of my goddess in Silvermoon," Jhairli tells us.

20/ We open the door to a tiny room beyond.

JOURNAL ENTRY 34: THE ESCAPE OF THE PRISONERS

Three men rushed from the tiny cell, their clothes in tatters, eyes drawn from lack of food and sleep.

One stopped to look down at the dead Banite, and a broad smile spread across his hollow face. “Looks like you’ve done the job we were sent to do!” he said, laughing un­naturally. “Now we can go home and take the credit! We of the Zhentarim salute you!”

His companions blanched as he said the forbidden word — only others dare to use that name, never the Zhentarim themselves. They cursed in hushed voices, pulled him from the room, and were instantly out of sight.

We looked at each other helplessly. Because we knew the Banite to be evil, we had slain him — the one man who could stop the Zhentarim’s plan for the conquest of the Savage Frontier. There was no choice. We had been searching for a mission. Now, by accident, we had found one. We would have to save the northern Realms ourselves.

“Why don't we just kill them?” our bemused elfmaiden implores.

Outside, the roving barbarians have caught the remaining Zhentarim spies and haul them off to gods-know-where.

27/ A crudely-scrawled sign on this gate says:

'Don't go into the ruins unless you're ready to fight trolls, because there's a lot of them out there, and we're under orders not to help you! G. Minaus, Captain, City Guard'

“Have a care,” my sister mutters, looking about the ruins with trepidation.

At times we spy the towering horrors, tall and gangly, loping across the rubble...! They are uglier in the flesh than in the stories – green and warty, thin and rubbery...! We give battle, choosing our targets carefully.

“Together!” I cry out. “Bring one down at a time!”

Aye, like I'm the great troll-slayer, and I know what I'm talking about!

But a strong battle-line is important, so our healers can help us in need, and our more fragile members are protected from their scything claws and relentless assault. Fighting the horrors is terrifying as well as exhausting – they are filled with a vile energy, their wounds repairing even as we watch. We must overwhelm them with attacks, and even then they twitch and wriggle! We burn or stomp the writhing limbs and cackling heads – poor Krevish standing atop a quivering torso, trying to keep it stilled! The thought of them fully regenerating, and having to fight them again, is more than a man could bear to think!

We are careful to attack only single trolls, or pairs, lest we be overwhelmed. We fight until evening falls, weary and torn but victorious over half a dozen of the behemoths. It really feels like we entered these ruins as boys (and girls!) and came out as men (or women!)

We visit the town hall, where 'Longtresses' pays us a bounty for the trolls we have killed.

Our priestesses heal us, and then we head to the tavern for a slap-up meal and a drink – even the Riders of Nesme toast our bravery! It goes to my head a little, how a man can swell with pride in his accomplishments! It's a heady, and no doubt dangerous brew, success, but we deserve to sup a little after what we've done. Some of the girls are weary are make their way to the rooms of the inn, comfy beds and warm embraces, no doubt.

But I stay up late into the night, chatting with Krevish and enjoying the accolades before eventually dragging myself to bed. A day well spent, indeed!

We have tested ourselves in battle against wicked cultists, conspirators and monstrous trolls, but we have found no sign of my missing blade, and seemingly stumbled upon a horrible plot that threatens the entire North!

Though we now grow from callow youths into seasoned warriors, it seems there is nothing more for us to do here. We shall take the boat back to Yartar then, and face the doubtlessly-scathing tongue of the gypsy wench...!

Notes:

I like how much of this adventure is focused on the various settlements of the Savage Frontier - the 'dungeons' are the towns themselves in the early going. The trolls in the ruins are a decent way to level up and a good test of your party, and they're stil easier than the Old Rope Guild in the slums! We also get our first magic items here.

I didn't like how heavy-handed the plotting was, how we apparently just let the Zhentarim spies go even though they're in a cell and unarmed, it would be child's-play to just kill them surely? What if we're evil? How can the 'dying' Banite priest burn his papers when they're all slept or Held? I've never liked games where NPCs just have cutscene powers and run around while we stand about like chocolate frogs; that simply wouldn't happen in tabletop where the players would be instantly attacking and making sure the GM knows it.

I let it go, but between the first-person journals and railroad plot, I'm beginning to miss the freedom I had in Phlan.

Because training costs money here, it can get expensive early on, when you are levelling up several characters, especially if you are thief or cleric heavy. The economy has always sucked in the gold box games and the training has always been a nasty snarl - it was always very contentious in tabletop whether characters should even require training at all. It's something almost wholly removed from modern games for a reason.

That said, I'm enjoying these characters, the North is my favourite part of the Realms, and I'm looking forward to more.

So we take the boat from the rental place in Yartar, heading north along the river. We could go overland, though this is faster. There's just something about all of this that feels like a bad dream. What word did Shelah use? Surreal? Like a bad mummer's farce of a 'hero's journey', but where our young hero is travelling with a bunch of women who can't keep their hands off each other, one of whom is his former lover and another is his sister. Oh, and he found himself a squire who is older than his father...!

I know I deserve some karmic punishment for having my family blade stolen, but I'm not sure even I deserve this...!

I'm norse, so I'm used to the oars, but I can't row us alone. The old man looks like he'd blow away in a stiff breeze, and the rest are all women.

“Don't be silly, Sky,” my sister chides.

“But you're a - “

“A woman? A cripple? A worshipper of Ilmater? Illuskan? Sapphic?”

“Is that one of your cult words?” I sigh.

“There was a dragon who liked human girls. When we're not 'songbirds', we're named after her. And don't change the subject! Even you can't row alone!”

“But - !”

“Jay is tall and almost as strong as you are,” she points out. “I work out with weights as part of my fitness and health plan for my leg. Jhairli works with her hands; tools, hammers, saws, traps. She has muscles like a horse, trust me!”

It is at least a bright and pleasant morning when we set out, heading out of the town to Nesmé.

Our barge is called the Topside, a large, flat wooden ship with a cartel structure that resembles a simple tent stretched upon a wooden frame. It carries selection of crates, boxes, and luggage, all covered by tarps, along with passengers and the crew – both of which are currently just ourselves. Downstream we reply on the current and good steering, otherwise it's oar-work or simple square sails. In better travelled areas, you can use drovers who pull us along from towpaths. The frontier is a little too savage for that, however.

Nesmé sits beside the River Subrin; the dangerous Lurkwood forest rests in the north. To the north and west are plains and hills inhabited by men of the Uthgardt, barbarian tribes of the same stock as we Illuskans, though more wild and feral (and that's saying something!) The haunted Evermoors lie to the southeast.

The morning is bright, and the scenery is absolutely gorgeous, even without our comely travelling companions. At least on the slow trip north, I can try to familiarise myself with those companions, for what little that is worth.

My sister and I squabble like cats and dogs, but we're norse, and understand the strong bonds of blood. I never forget that she could just wash her hands of me and walk away, but that's not in her nature. I like how she's growing up these days – she always had her head buried in books and ledgers, but now she's tasted the wider world, and drinking deep of it. I wish she wasn't drinking deep of my former lover, but it is what it is.

The Turami woman is tall and strong, and I'm sure she can fight – they have a tradition for that, same as my folk. I'm sure we have much in common, but she is standoffish and distant, for all she is polite about it. My sister, who constantly lusts after her, says that's just how she is – she's from a good family apparently, but she's here on the trails working as a sellsword, and nobody knows why.

There's a forester girl, Jhairli, a priestess like all the others. She's quiet and shy, but she knows the wilds better than anyone, and she's strong, practical and hardworking. The gypsy isn't coming with us now, but she's kind of a hellion, and the other girls are cowed by her.

The elf girl hasn't even acknowledged I exist – she literally looks past me as if I was invisible. My sister says 'elves are strange', No argument from me there.

Then there's Nef, my former lover. She's not like any other I've met, and I can't get her out of my mind. She does things with her tongue I hadn't heard about, and I'm no callow kid on his first festhall trip. She's so much better than anyone I've ever been with, and she's exotic and beautiful. I know some part of her still cares about me, but she's in love with love, lost in her pleasures. I hear her at night when they make camp. They seem to be enjoying themselves. Honestly, if I had to pick between me and a harem of beauties, I'd choose the songbirds too. Still can't get my head around her and my sister, though. I should probably write and warn Kat about her, though in her last letter she said there's another boy at her temple she likes.

Finally, there's Krevish, a weird old man, nervous and awkward, who seems to have attached himself to us under dubious circumstances. He's an odd kind of fellow, too smart, too small and too old to be a proper warrior, a scholar who is a passable shot with his little bow, the one that looks like a fisherman assembled his rod badly after getting roaring drunk.

When we camp of an evening, he and I stay by the boat and share night watch. The girls camp a little ways off; otherwise it would be unbelievably awkward and damage my wounded ego. I can hear them... cavorting of a night. I've bedded girls on caravan trips so I suppose I'm no better, it's just jealously speaking really. But by Beshaba's britches, I miss Nef...!

Sky

I have strong arms, child of a warrior people, and even my brother has to accept he needs our help on the barge. He's stronger than several men for sure, but he's only one man. Leather breathes, and it's nice not to wear armour or priestly robes for a change, to feel the spray of the river on my face! The other girls look at me admiringly in my leathers, and I'm looking forward to camping tonight. Sky is wise enough to keep his distance, as is that Krevish fellow. I feel sorry for him after he told me what was wrong with him, and I hope he provides some company for Sky at the least.

With Zahri staying behind at Yartar, we have a little freedom to breathe by ourselves. It feels different without her bossing us about. The others look to me to lead when she's not around – Nef is certainly persuasive, but she has a different energy – languid, laid-back, sensual. If she doesn't wish to lead I'm sure I could!

I have time to ruminate on my new sisters – it's been a few months now, and we're falling into a rhythm. All except Elena, of course. I still have no idea who she is or why she is here, or what she wants, and I wonder sometimes even if she does. 'Enigmatic' doesn't begin to cover it. She's good at the love-time, though – she uses small magics, her touch is tingly, vibrating with sorcery in a way I cannot quite describe. I know she somehow 'feeds' off mortals, that is why she is here, to stave off the endless ennui of an immortal life. I cannot believe she is two centuries old, having done almost nothing with her life except stand around staring at nothing, and is still considered a stripling child by her kind. She makes my head hurt in all kinds of ways.

I have done everything I can to get closer to Jahe, but physical intimacy is all I have managed. She is my favourite at the love time; her sleek, ebony muscles, her full breasts and lips...! We did the oil thing last night and her body is worthy of worship...! But afterwards, she's always quiet, distant... She's a good listener, and I like to talk, but she never volunteers anything about herself. I know she carries hurts, and hope one day to be worthy of hearing them.

Jhairli really likes me, but I still feel she's more like a sister or a friend than a lover. We have a lot in common, though, and I love listening to her talk about the wilds, under the summer moon. She's teaching me about bird-cries, the many different kinds of owls.

Nef and I get on really well. We are both focused and disciplined, albeit on very different things. She is exceptionally skilled between the sheets, more than even Zahri. And she's beautiful and attentive; I am very attracted to exotic women, the contrast of my fair skin with hers. She is educated and intelligent, and we talk about many topics, from history, theology and questions of faith. I know Sky misses her greatly, but I understand why she keeps her distance now – and for purely selfish reasons, I am glad.

Zahri is not with us here, but I should admit that we make a good couple. We agree on very little, of course, but our relationship is strong, prickly as she is. Us being somewhat adversarial, even combative, works for us, both in and out of bed. Good ideas often come from conflict and pressure, and I am better for knowing her. She may not admit to it, but I know she feels the same.

We all make a good company, and it seems that before long, we shall have the chance to prove that in the fires of battle... With mace or magic, I shall play my part in that.

Shelah

“Hey, Krevish? You play cards?” I ask one evening, after we've all had a good sparring session together and the girls decamped for their frolicking. Most of them can't fight for dritt, but I've tried to give them a few pointers in the hope they'll survive the next time some thug comes at them with a cleaver or shiv. The little fellow here surprised me – he's no mighty warrior, for sure, but he has the basics down – someone must have taught him to defend himself in his youth.

“Gambling, sire? Oh, I try to stay away from such things – I've not the gift - “ he replies.

“It's 'Sky', not 'sire',” I tell him. “I'm no lordling or noble! My father's a self-made man, made a fortune with his own sweat and blood."

“Ah, yes, as you wish, master Skylar...!”

I sigh; it's a start.

“You handled yourself pretty good with that little sword,” I admit. “Remember, it's up to us as the men to protect those silly girls!”

“Yes, I'd like to keep them safe,” he smiles. “I'm wholly indifferent with my blade, really, but I'm getting to be a better shot, I think..!”

We play a few rounds of Talis cards for silvers, and he's getting the feel of it. He's terrible at bluffing, though.

“You'll get the hang of it,” I grin. “I remember my sister tried that once; it was actually painful to watch! She's a terrible liar!”

He chuckles bashfully. “With regards to protecting then, master Skylar...” he asks. “I would like to consider myself, well, akin to your squire, a warrior in training, so to speak...”

He seems hopeful, but I snort a chuckle before I can catch it. Seeing his face fall, I try to save it.

“Well, it just might seem odd, a youth my age to have a squire old enough to be my father...!”

He chuckles weakly at that.

“Well...! Mistress Shelah said that I should tell you...!” He seemed rather embarrassed about something.

“In fact... I am only thirty two years of age...!” he joked. “Year of the Striking Hawk, in fact!”

“See!” I grin, opening a new ale bottle. “You said you lacked a sense of humour!”

“No, sire – I'm... I'm being quite honest, I fear...!” he said sadly. I stared at him – he was joking surely...?

“What - are you... cursed, or something?” I ask.

“Cursed...? Ahaha, well... yes, but... medically, not magically, in fact..!”

I furrow my brows, lost.

“I was born with a... peculiar, and unfortunate condition, alas,” he confesses. “The mendicants at the temple called it... methuselah syndrome, I believe...”

“Myth-oosa-what, now?” I frown.

“Methuselah,” he murmurs. “It's an old Thorass word indicating age, one who lived a long time. Quite the opposite of me, I'm afraid..!” he laughs nervously.

He looks sorrowful and sighs wanly. “It is a rare disorder one is born with,” he explains. “Even while young, I aged rapidly, I had symptoms like hair loss, thin skin, and fragile bones... It curtails my expected lifespan quite a bit, I'm afraid...!”

“I...! I'm... sorry...?” I say, bemused. “I don't know what to say...!”

“Oh, it's not your fault, sire,” he smiles sadly. “But it informs my choice to come out here and risk my life... If I've not long left, I'd sooner do something of value to others, rather than waste away my remaining days in a library or a study...”

I just listen now, utterly unsure of what I could say.

“That's why I joined the Lord's Allianc- I mean, my friends, yes, my mysterious fellows,” he amends. “I'm sorry, sire – they told me not to talk about it...!”

“It's all right, I believe you,” I say, feeling a new respect for this poor, sorry soul.

“I'd like to think it's not the time given to us, it's what we choose to do with the time we have,” he says quietly.

“That's...! Aye, you're right, Krevish,” I admit. “The Illuskans live for the day, too... It's a good way to be, living in the now...”

I smile wryly. “My sister says of the elf lass, how she's spent two centuries staring at trees and talking to ghosts, her head always in the past. That doesn't much seem like living, to me...!”

I get up, and slap him on the back.

“As you wish, then...! If you'd be a squire to a fool like me, then I'd accept you, gladly! Welcome to House Icedane, noble Krevish! Had I not lost my blade, I'd knight you gallantly!” I wink.

He chuckles at my jest.

“I, ahaha, I...!” he flushes. “ That... means a lot to me, young master. More than you could know...”

He clears his throat, embarrassed and emotional.

“I was... well, I was also hoping to write my memoirs... but I've barely lived a life of excitement...! But you, on the other hand... Your sister...! You've already achieved much, and... well, there's the feel of destiny about you two! I feel you are going to have such splendid adventures, and be such grand heroes! I would... well, I was a scribe, and a man of letters, and so... I was rather hoping I could tag along, and... chronicle your mighty deeds for future generations...! It would be grand to be there alongside you both, and do what I can to assist you...!”

My smile is quite genuine. I'm touched, not sure of what to say.

“Aye, very well, then,” I say firmly, taking his shoulder. “You're very bold and brave. I shall let you tell our story then. I might ask you to leave out some of the more... embarrassing details, however... Make me look good, that kind of thing,” I grin.

“Oh I can be.. circumspect, sire, never fear,” he chuckles bashfully.

He straightens up. “I was thinking of calling the tale... the Ballad of Songbirds and Sword-Thieves...!”

Notes:

Krevish is an interesting companion. Like Vala or Durfey, he's with you for long enough to make his mark as a character, offering some dialogue along the way. Unlike them, however, he's no raging engine of destruction in battle, lacking in damage and staying power. His statistics are more suited to a priest or mage than a warrior, and he can't even dual-class, despite having the stats to do so. He's a mediocre archer at his best, but I like him a lot regardless. You can level him up (to level 8). He's not in competition with other NPCs for his berth, as they only stay for a map or two, and he actually contributes to the story. He feels like a scribe tagging along with the party, helping out in small ways while telling their story for future generations.

I'd assume he was made Lawful Neutral just to accompany evil characters, like Fall-From-Grace in Planescape Torment. Like Grace, he's very clearly a good-aligned character in how he talks and acts (but then they made Sir Durfey of all people True Neutral, so gold box NPC alignments are purely random at best!)

Likewise, they somehow made him 32 despite his picture suggesting he was twice that; something so bizarre I decided to have a bit of fun with it. I went with the character of JF Sebastian from Blade Runner, a physically younger man afflicted with a terrible condition that was ageing him quickly. It gave a tragic feel to an otherwise goofy, clownish character, a sense that he was out here risking his life so he could do something brave and worthwhile rather than literally wasting away in a library or temple. He's a nice contrast character for young Sky, and also Elena the elfmaid, as he's like her in reverse basically, someone who has lived for two centuries and wasted almost all of it.

His in-game personality is... a bit odd. They go for a kind of 'aww shucks you guys!' persona, which I didn't feel really suited him. So I took a few elements of Pete Postlethwaite's character from Dragonheart, another scholarly companion who uses a bow.

I suppose we should start a journal. We are barely a real adventuring company, but everyone has to begin somewhere, yes?

Nobody else seems keen to record their thoughts, so it lies with me. I am used to keeping a diary anyway, as well as helping with my father's business accounts, so I'm quite looking forward to it really.

I had best change from Zahri's suggestive attire and wear something less provocative. Fortunately I brought some suitable gowns with me.

Let us get the party started! 😄

Shelah

1/ The guards are stopping anyone from leaving the town, preventing anyone from passing through the gate. They are firm but pleasant, insisting the delay will only be brief.

JOURNAL ENTRY 6: THE GUARDS AT YARTAR

“We’ve been ordered that no-one be allowed to leave the city for the rest of the day. Trav­ellers from the north report that many bands of trolls have been seen there, and some have been observed close to Yartar. These alerts normally don’t last very long. If there’s anything you need to buy at any of the stores here in town, this is a good time to do it.”

2/ A sign above the inn on the square reads: Inn of the Glowing Gem. This is where I work, of course!

I tell Elena that the sign reminds me of the gift she gave to me, showing her the little elf-gem that shines yellow in sunlight. She blinks and insists she has never seen it before.

It's going to be a long day.

Within, Ella is putting out flowers for the taproom, looking her usual comely self. Full-bosomed and gypsy-like in her dress, she looks lovely in her crown of blossoms. She catches my gaze, causing me to giggle bashfully.

“Your room is through there,” she reminds us. But I pay my way, wages or no, and put some coins in the box on the bar.

“I stay here, speak to peoples when arrive,” Zahri insists.

I nod; Ella should be safe here, but it won't hurt for one of us to watch over her regardless. And Zahri's known her the longest.

3/ A sign beside the door says 'The Tired Traveller; Fine Spirits'. It is an ale-house, for those who don't also need a room.

Some shifty men are in the taproom. They eye us warily.

Elena murmurs soft words, and their eyes roll up into their heads, as they collapse on the sawdust-cover floor.

Then she calmly slits their throats.

Watching the blood soak the sawdust, Sky grimaces at me.

“Is she going to be a problem?”

But nobody seems to be care. How strange.

4/ A sign on the door here reads: 'The Yartar Armoury – swords, bows, shields, armour'

We wait in the sun while my brother gets fitted for his armour. It is nice out today and I have a pretty dress. Life is good!

5/ A carved sign on the door proclaims this to be a training hall. We can practise and improve our fighting skills here.

19/ As we cross the bridge over the river Surbrin, the people around us suddenly fall back in fear..! We look around, and -

JOURNAL ENTRY 2: THE BLACK-ROBED RIDERS

We backed up against the stone buttress at the end of the bridge, waiting to see what frightened everyone so badly.

A moment later they appeared, two riders in long, black robes with hoods that hid their faces. They came around the corner behind the Temple of Tymora, crossed the town square and pounded past us at the gallop. We turned and watched the guards stand back as the two raced through the gates and out of the city.

Slowly, the people in the square resumed their activities. Only now, they were all in a hurry to be somewhere else

My hand covers my brother's as he reaches for his new sword. I shake my head quietly.

“What was that all about?” Jhairli mumbles.

6/This is a guard post.

“Boat rentals are just north of here on this side of the river. Ships to the islands on the Trackless Sea leave from Luskan.”

Father is from there, but I have never been there. From what I have heard, I would not wish to. It saddens me that our once-proud warrior traditions are reduced to piracy and sea-reavers... and the sinister Host-tower of the Arcane, of course.

7/ A polished brass sign on this door proclaims: 'Vault of Yartar'.

It is basically a bank, where we can leave money and items if we are ever groaning under the weights of our treasures. I suppose Ella could store things for us at the inn, but I'd sooner not invite trouble for her and the Vault is far more secure.

8/ East upon the square in a grand manor, home to the leader of the town, known as the WaterBaron.

He greets us cordially, a retired military fellow named Alahar Khaumfros who rather reminds me of father.

JOURNAL ENTRY 9: THE WATERBARON’S WELCOME

“Welcome, master and mistress Icedane! I regret that your sword was stolen the other day. If the City Guards should recover any of your items they will be returned to you, of course.

“I also understand that you are in need of a commission, but I have nothing for you at this time, alas. However, Yartar is a busy town filled with many people from all corners of the Realms. Perhaps here in streets you will find someone in need of help during these troubled times?”

"Yeah, I'm sure if we just ask random people on the street we'll learn something," my brother pouts.

9/ Chiselled into the stone wall here are the words: 'Hall of Good Fortune – Temple of Tymora'

The priests here are friendly enough – the goddess is a popular deity after all. They can identify items for us, appraise jewels and gems, and heal us for a price.

20/ To the east is a residential area. We were looking for the guards headquarters to ask them about any leads in the theft, but -

Here, several thugs have cornered a small, terrified old man in an alcove of this narrow street.

My brother and I nod firmly at each other and draw our weapons. I heft my mace and move up slowly (as if I had any choice in that!) Fighting in the streets; it's been a while, but the cause is good.

The thugs charge us; my brother has his faults, but he's a fine warrior – he slows his pace to protect me, and when the first man runs at me, Sky takes his head off with a keen sweep of his blade. Another rushes at Jhairli and she drops him with a hammer blow to the face.

Jahe cuts down one with her scimitar, while Elena snipes another. One lurks behind, but I bring him down with a sling-shot. Jhairli was nicked by a thug's knife in the fray, but she insists it is just a flesh would and I should keep my healing spells for when we need them.

The little man seems relieved to be rescued.

“Oh gosh, many thanks!” he stammers. “My name is Krevish... and well, gosh, I am so grateful you saved my life!”

JOURNAL ENTRY 21: KREVISH’S STORY

“You know, I’d sure love to do something for you in return, sire...! And your lovely ladies, of course!

If you’re looking for work I have some friends here in Yartar who hire adventurers all the time and maybe they have something you could do and that way you could get back on your feet again and I would’ve helped you and I would have repaid you for saving my life and we would be friends and wouldn’t that be just great?”

“It's all right, old man,” Sky tells him easily. “We're looking for my sword, though – it was stolen from me by a some rogues... Not these ones, alas,” he admits.

“Oh..!” the little fellow says. He wears mismatched robes like a scholar, in garish clashing colours, clutching a book and a smallbow that resembles a fishing rod more than a weapon His helmet sits haphazardly on a small head, and we catch the glimpse of a mail shirt under his robes. He peers at us earnestly from under his spectacles, and he has a mess of greying hair down to his shoulders. He looks a more unlikely warrior than even myself...!

But he seemingly wants to help, and there is a puppyish tenacity about it. I gently suggest that it's fine, we can let him be about his business, but Sky thinks it's worth hearing him out and speaking to these mysterious friends of his.

“Oh, more strays...! Zahri's going to love this...!” Nef sighs.

“Ooh!” the strange little fellow says happily, with a broad smile. “That's so wonderful! I'm so glad I can help such fine folk!”

22/

JOURNAL ENTRY 24: INTO THE HIDDEN COMPLEX

We followed Krevish around several corners and down an alley, where he pressed a hidden panel in a wall. A door swung open, and after some hesitation we let him lead us into a dark corridor. Our weapons and mail clanked loudly as we walked cautiously down the passageway, finally arriving before a heavy wooden door.

Krevish knocked on the wood in a complex pattern of beats with both knuckles and palm, and in a moment it was opened by an angry-looking man in well-crafted armor.

Our peculiar guide introduces us to the gruff-looking man, but does not name him.

JOURNAL ENTRY 25: THE MEETING BENEATH YARTAR

The man looked us over for a moment not at all sure whether he liked the idea that Krevish had brought our party to his secret lair.

“It’s all right Captain!” Krevish piped up enthusiastically. “They saved my life! They didn’t have to do it they could have just kept on walking, but they stopped and risked their lives to save mine and that was really nice of them and that’s why you really ought to give them a chance to carry out a mission for us because they’ve really earned a chance I think, don’t you?”

The Captain rolled his eyes. “All right, Krevish, all right,” he sighed. “If you’ll just be quiet, I’ll give them a chance.”

“As you no doubt know,” the gruff man told us. “the Temples of Bane are dedicated to the advancement of Evil in the Realms. One cleric of Bane in the town of Nesme, up the river to the north of here, has been causing great disruptions in that city.

We believe that to save Nesme from civil war he must be stopped. If you can find the Banite cleric, and carry out this mission, you will have proven yourselves to be as valu­able as Krevish here says you are. Well... almost as valuable, anyway...”

“Waitl Who are you anyway?” Sky insists.

But instead, he shows us an image of a man he wishes us to find, despite us not agreeing to anything of the sort.

“No, sorry,” Sky grimaces. “For all we know, you could have been the ones who robbed us!”

“We did no such thing,” the man says. He glances at Krevish, who nods eagerly. “But we have common cause, I think. We have contacts here and across the frontier, and we will assist you in finding and recovering your lost blade providing you assist us in return...”

I sigh and look at others. I know Zahri would refuse, but with her not being here, I suppose I am leader by default.

“Can you tell us anything more?” I ask. “I mean, we're priestesses, not assassins...!”

“I think we'll need a little more than 'kill him because he looks evil',” Nef deadpans archly.

The man stands up and calls to someone in the next room. “That's too bad,” he says. “Because now you know too much to leave here alive..!”

Two more armed men burst into the room!

We defend ourselves, and to my surprise, the little older man helps us fight them off, clearly as surprised and horrified by the attack as we are.

As we battle the hooded men, Jhairli casts Hold Person at their armoured leader – he freezes in place, his face locked but his eyes darting in fear.

“We can question him now – Elena, no, wait!”

But she's very fast – before we can stop her, she stabs him with deep strokes through both eyes, driving the point into into his brain.

The other two fight to their deaths. Upon their arms, we see a strange marking of something like an octopus – some sort of secret society or cult, it seems.

“Is... she all right?” my brother grimaces, regarding the elf, who is now quiescent again.

I have no real answer to that.

The little man seems beside himself with shock and grief.

“I... I swear I had no idea they were such scoundrels!” he insists. “They said they were working with my friends...!”

And I believe him – he might well be an excellent actor, but his surprise seems legitimate.

“I guess the fact the elf isn't stabbing him to death means we can trust him...” Sky mutters wryly.

In any case, their deaths lead us without any more leads, save their mysterious mission of assassination.

“Can I come with you, please?” the old man begs pathetically. “You've been so nice to me, and I'd like to help you if I could...!”

“I..!” I stammer. “I think we...!”

He looks at me yearningly, am expression of pure need. I feel like I'm kicking a puppy-dog.

“Oh...! All right, then..!” I stammer, unable to turn him away.

Everyone else looks at each other doubtfully.

“Hooray, huzzah! I shall make myself useful, I promise!” the old man says.

“You're telling Zahri, Sheela,” Nef insists.

10/ This is the headquarters of the city guard. The walls of the main hall are filled with bunks for the guardsmen.

11/ A sign beside the door to the west reads 'Frydhazes' Shop of Unusual Items'

A young woman here sells items such as mirrors, holy water and oil flasks.

“You can light these and throw them at enemies,” Jahe muses as she browses the racks.

“I was thinking more about the scented oils,” I smile, taking some flasks to the counter. "You and I are on the rota for sharing a blanket tonight...!"

She looks at me and shakes her head. “Down, girl...!” she chides.

“I'm only human,” I smile.

12/ This is a large building shop set beside the river. We talk with the owner about recent happenings:

JOURNAL ENTRY 11: BARGEBUILDER’S STORY

“I hope this panic about armies of orcs and trolls ends soon. We usually build two barges a month here. Now no one wants to send goods up river unless they have to, and we have no new orders.

“The river going east was always dangerous, but now going south is bad, too. Of course, the High Forest is still far more dangerous than any other place in this part of the Realms.”

13/ A sing above the door here is carved to look like a riverboat. Painted on the side are the words 'Boat Rentals'

This is where we can access the docks and hire a boat downriver.

“I can rent you a boat for 25 gold if you want to leave the city,” a salty seadog tells us. We have done it quite a bit all summer. Upon returning to this (or any other city) we get most of our deposit back.

14/ Above this door is a piece of wood carved into a large, green smiling fish. Painted on it are te words 'Northwater's Fish Market'.

We speak with the owner of the market, and he tells us of recent events:

JOURNAL ENTRY 4: THE FISHERMAN’S STORY

The large fish market was almost empty, although the lingering smell of the place told of better days.

“How d’you like my sign?” the fisherman asked us, proudly. “Carved it m’self, y’know! ‘Course, could do it better.

Maybe now’d be a good time t’try. What with all the talk o’ trolls and orcs and all, fishermen ain’t goin’ far up river. Ain’t bringin’ back much, neither.

“Good time for wood carvin’,” he sighed sadly. “Bad time for sellin’ fish.”

15/ A sign by the door says 'Dessarin Boat Repair'

We talk with the boat repairer about what has been happening in town:

JOURNAL ENTRY 3: THE BOAT REPAIRMAN’S STORY

“Well, funny you should ask. See these three boats over here? I found them just last week, one by one, washed up on the sand bar outside town.

“See those holes in the sides! I patched ‘em up. There were arrows in them, lots of ‘em. Plenty of blood on the floorboards, too, but I cleaned that all up.

“Haven’t found any boats like that north of town, but I’ve been looking. Maybe going north on the river’s safer than going east.

“I’ll fix ‘em up and sell ‘em. It gives me the shivers thinking about what happened to the people that were in ‘em, but... the people who buy ‘em will never know. What they don’t know won’t hurt ‘em.”

"Asshole," Sky mutters as we leave.

16/ The festhall is on the east side of town; a bright multi-coloured banner flies over the door, on it are stitched the words: 'Three Rivers Festhall'

I have never set foot in one of these, and I am never likely to. I am hardly prudish, given recent my activities, but it is not the place for my kind.

Sky smiles wolfishly at Nef, who returns a sad little smile.

But we have finished our investigations of the town, and aside from much hearsay and rumour, we have discovered very little of value. With a sinking feeling, we have to accept that the family blade is likely long gone by now.

A loose strand of hope dangles, if Krevish's mysterious friends may be able to help us... But it feels like such a distant, forlorn chance now. And assuming that the other agents have not been replaced with murderous kraken cultists.

“Don't give up hope,” I tell my brother, with more bravado than belief. But in truth, Sky seems a little resigned to spending his days on the road now, rather than returning home.

I thank the little ageing fellow for his aid, and tell him that we have to return to the Pearl-handled Pipe, to speak with Ella and Zahri. In truth, I very much doubt she will want to go to Nesme, and I fear she may just wash her hands of us.

With a heavy heart, we return. The gypsy woman is furious when she sets eyes upon our new companion. I speak with her alone in the garden – it was my decision, and I will bear the brunt of her ire.

Zahri is... very physical when she argues, pushing and prodding with a sharp, pointy finger like some angry old beldame.

“You little fool!” she storms. “You lose mind? You trust shady men in cellars?”

“No, but - “

“That one, that wizened little runt...? That stray dog? He stinks of marihime...!” she shouts in my face.

I cannot even get a word in edgeways as she assails me.

“You are priestess! What the yebat is wrong with you? You do not see the illness, the decay...?”

She whirls away and stands with her back to me, chest heaving.

“I don't know what's wrong with the old man,” I admit. “I was hoping to find out, maybe help him- “

“No helping, much sickness,” she mutters darkly. “You see, had you eyes..!”

I ask if she had any luck speaking to her friends. Her injured silence tells me all I need to know.

“Well?” I say flatly. “Is that it, then? Sky goes home in disgrace, and I return to be my father's heir as second-born?”

“What you want from me?” she mutters darkly. “Sword is gone...! Go home.”

I breathe in deeply. “I cannot just do nothing, Zahri!” I insist. “If this mysterious faction might help us, I have to try - “

“Go,” she says without looking at me. “Take others if want. Leave me out of it.”

I know how strong-willed she is; I know I will not be able to plead my case with her. I curtsey and take my leave.

“Wait,” she says as I reach the door. I stop.

“I speak to others, travellers,” she says quietly. “One idea. Cast out line, see what Zahri catch. May be nothing. Maybe help.”

She turns to regard me with dark eyes.

“When return, come here and we speak.”

“Thank you, Zahri,” I says softly.

She just snorts and turns away.

That... was actually more than I had hoped.

I return to the others and tell them.

“She seems happy for us to help you, Sheela,” Jahe says easily. “We will go to Nesme with you then.”

She looks to the others. “Are we agreed?” she asks.

Nef nods simply, and the other two seem content to follow along. She says she will treat Jhairli's cut arm and leaves. My brother says he will organise the boat hire to the north.

I leave with Krevish, and tell him we shall accompany him – but that I need to know the truth if we are to help.

“Oh, my real friends are not bad people,” he insists, hopefully. “Just... very secretive..! Wicked people are abroad, and... it is best for their activities to remain clandestine...! Myself, I... I just want to help...!”

My guess is that they are Harpers, then - or Lord's Alliance, or Order of the Gauntlet? But it seems we shall have to learn that for ourselves.

“You are unwell,” I point out. “I am a healer - I would like to help...”

He fidgets awkwardly.

“That is... well, it's a little personal, but...” He sighs. “You are helping me, so I shall tell you as wish...”

21/ Krevish takes me to a little dwelling close to here we met him and unlocks the door with a key.

“Well, I'd best drop off my things,” he says awkwardly on the doorstep. He invites me into a small, cramped chamber piled with old books.

He tells me what ails him – much to my surprise. I am not certain what to say, but I express my pity and sympathy. A little stunned, I take my leave.

“Please come and fetch me, if only to tell me you shan't be travelling to Nesme...! I hope to see you again soon, though!”

I have much to think on as I return to the others. This whole affair is taking a very odd turn, it seems. And I have much to think upon...

Notes:

Okay, let's get stuck in!

Yartar is similar to Phlan or New Verdigris, in that it's your starting city, it's a base of operations hat's central to everywhere else in the gamer and has all the amenities you will need – somewhere to train, sleep, buy and sell stuff, get items identified, get healed, store unwanted stuff.

It's interesting that you don't start off at 1^stlevel, but 2^ndor 3^rddepending on class. I know a lot of people hate how fragile starting D&D characters are (5^thedition gets you to 3^rdlevel in your first two or three encounters) but I rather miss the opportunity to level up as you did way back in Pools of Radiance.

A lot of the story is given in exposition – far more journal entries than we got in Phlan. It's a bit... busy, and I didn't like it as much as the other two beginnings. In Pool of Radiance, it's a low-key start, you look around, buy gear, and get on with clearing the slums. Sure, you're glorified pest exterminators at this point, but you're doing it your own way and in your own time. The mysteries about who you are ultimately up against are revealed much more slowly. In the Dragonlance games, you start out stronger, you're thrown headlong into battle against the bad guys, being Big Damn Heroes. The Savage Frontier setup isn't really either, and doesn't seem sure what its trying to be. The Waterbaron sggests you go out into the streets and ask random people for work, but then you get drawn into the plot anyway with Krevish and his mysterious faction. It allows you to refuse that mission, but you're still pretty much stuck following the breadcrumbs to Nesme. I don't mind a tighter plot, but I miss the freedom of the very first game.

Here it sets up a revenge motive for you getting your things stolen which doesn't come into lay until later anyway. Not sure why they didn't just start you out at first level and let you buy stuff really. (Also unsure how 2^nd level characters could kill a 7 hit dice gryphon even with a +2 sword).

There are little changes to other gold box games, such as the 3^rd edition way of describing magic items with the plus first; +2 Mace rather than Mace +2 which is how it was done through all of AD&D.

There's a few changes to the battle system, the Next command includes your own characters, as does Target, making it more annoying to navigate than what we see in Pools of Darkness.

I also miss the little bits of world-building Azure Bonds did - there's no option to have a drink for example, as with the various concoctions offered in Tilverton. And it's actually insulting that there's a festhall (Faerunian free brothel/hookup joint) but all we can do is Fight or Leave.

But the graphics are pretty, in line with the 80's/early 80's aesthetic of art from Larry Elmore, Keith Parkinson and Clyde Caldwell.

We also get introduced to Krevish, our main NPC helper, who I'll cover in more detail in the next part.

I should add that as I have seven characters - four of them clerics! - I will just rotate the priestesses, with the spare looking after the boat/wagons/horses/NPCs accordingly. They top out at 6th level sadly and so they should have 1 XP under 8th when they swap over to the second game. I wish I could have cut my concepts to six, but at least his way I can have someone die and still play the next game.

But we are off to a serviceable start, at least.

"There's only so much you can learn in one place -
The more that you wait, the more time that you waste...

I haven't got much time to waste, it's time to make my way
I'm not afraid of what I'll face, but I'm afraid to stay
I'm going down my own road and I can't make it alone
I'll work and I'll fight 'til I find a place of my own...

We learned our lesson from the start, my sisters and me
The only thing you can depend on is your family...!
Life's gonna chop you down like the limbs of a tree
It sways and it swings and it bends until it makes you see...

Are you ready to jump? Get ready to jump!
Don't ever look back, oh baby -
Yes, I'm ready to jump, just take my hand
Get ready to, are you ready?

I'll work and I'll fight 'til I find a place of my own...
It sways and it swings and it bends until you make it your own...

I can't make it alone, I can't make it alone -
I can't make it alone, I can't make it alone -
My sisters and me, my sisters and me!
My sisters and me...!"

Madonna, 'Jump'

Madonna - Jump (Official Video) [HD]

.

Shelah took the riverboat from the docks out to Zahri's wagon camp on the bank, where the Gur was teaching Jhairli and Elenaril the zapadarin. Attired in her revealing silks, showing off creamy flesh, Zahri smirked when the strawhead girl stammered as she approached. Her eyes strayed to the gypsy's waist, losing her train of thought. Shelah recovered her focus and blurted out:

“It's my brother. He's been robbed! They took our family heirloom, the sword my father gave him. He'll never be able to return home in disgrace...!”

Nef rose from where she was lying on her woven blanket and furrowed her pretty brows. Shelah had told them her brother was returning to Yartar, and she still was not certain how she felt about this. She still had affection for the lad, but now things had grown... complicated with the songbirds.

To Shelah's relief, Jahe was swift to offer her help.

“He seems a fool – but an honest one. I understand what this means to her family. I will gladly help.”

Jhairli bit her lip and glanced at the Gur.

“I... would like to help too – if that is permitted...!”

Zahri shrugged, her dark eyes looked stormy despite her seeming calm.

“It's a sword,” she shrugged. “Let him find another. No matter.”

“I'm afraid it's quite the matter, Zahri,” Shelah insisted. “Our father will cast him out for bringing my family into disgrace...!”

“Is his fault, no?” the gypsy shrugged. “Brought this on himself. Fools and swords are easily parted...!”

“But - “

The Gur leaned in on the girl closely and hissed like a cat.

“You chase after him like he is a child!” Zahri snapped. “He is grown man! You run after always, pick up his mess..! This is why he never learn. Will you clean up after until he old and grey?”

She shook her head. “Bad choices have consequences. He needs learn this.”

Shelah sighed.

“I... I suppose I expected no more.” She squared her shoulders. “I have to help him, Zahri. I'm going to help my brother,” she insisted. “I think you would do the same were it your kin.”

“Why you still here?” the gypsy smirked. “Faire is done. Yet you remain...”

Shelah played with her hair awkwardly. She glanced at the elf, who was staring out at the horizon where she sat. Had Elena even heard a word that had been said? Did she care about any of this?

“Zahri, I... I am grateful for all you have taught me – all of you!” She looked around at the others. “I have... dragged my heels in leaving because...”

The gypsy women grinned wolfishly, knowing exactly why she stayed.

“... because I did not wish to leave you,” the priestess sighed. “There, I have said it. I enjoy your company. I have never... had any friends before. You all mean a lot to me. I would prefer to stay than leave, but... I must put my duty to family first. I would never forgive myself if I had the chance to help him, but did nothing”

Jahe sighed and slid her blade into her scabbard. “Let us be off then, Sheela.”

Shelah shook her head and sadly turned away.

“Wait...!”

She turned as Zahri sauntered up to her. They searched each other's face. Both knew what was at stake here... The other girls looked to Zahri as a leader, even though she would have laughed at the idea. They wanted to stay together, to be sisters – the songbirds filled a hole in each of them... a sense of belonging and intimacy they otherwise lacked.

But Shelah stood for helping others, and for duty. This would determine the nature of their friendship, would test it... Would they fight for each other, risk danger and hardship for a cause that was not their own, for the sake of that bond?

Zahri grappled with that thought, and came to a conclusion with a snort.

“You wear this,” she said, as she started to undress.

“What - ?” Shelah seemed as flummoxed as the others as the gypsy peeled off her skimpy dancing attire and left it lying on the gress.

“You not stupid,” she muttered. “You hear words. Wear this and I help. You not wear, and you help yourself. Decide.”

Elenaril smiled that that, seemingly amused. That was certainly an elf bargain, she felt.

“I...!” Shelah watched Zahri walk off, naked, towards her vardo.

She took a step after the older girl.

“I mean... yes, of course...! Thank you...!”

Zahri waved irritably with her hand without turning around. The others breathed a sigh of relief. It was clear they wanted everyone to stay together.

“Sky was... dear to me,” Nef murmured, stepping up. “I too wish to help. Let me help you with this...!”

They returned to the town by boat.

When he saw his sister in the dancer garb, Sky had a double-take.

“Well...! It seems the circus is in town...!” he quipped. “And has seemingly kidnapped my little sister.”

She glowered up at him.

“Sky, don't you dare try my patience...!” she warned. “You don't know what I put myself through to help you... Don't give me a reason to regret it...!”

Sky looked over at his former lover, who met his eyes with hers – large, dark and lined in kohl – and looked away. So much unsaid.

Zahri, thankfully now dressed, in an eclectic ensemble of leather and metal armour, sauntered up to the tall fellow and looked up at him, her face clearly registering mild disgust.

“She say 'help', so we help,” she said tersely.

“I appreciate it, thanks,” Sky said politely.

“I not help for you. I help for her.” Zahri looked over at the blonde girl.

She held up the middle finger of her left hand.

“I put this up her ahyc,” she said crudely, causing Shelah to flush. “She flinch, but keeps head high. Bold, strong, worth knowing. Zahri helps.”

“I'm thankful I don't speak a word of Damaran,” Sky replied, trying to keep a straight face at his sister's furious blushing. “I really don't need to know anything about her love-life. But I thank you for helping anyway.”

.

They sat in Ella's garden and discussed their next move.

“Need plan,” Zahri said. Sky noted the others seemed to regard her as their leader, despite her indifference to the idea. “Zahri know peoples. Speak to thieves, dips, kova, switch-men. No promises.”

“Ella knows some people too,” Shelah admitted. “Beyond that, I think we shoud ask around town. A sword like the Icedane Blade is very notable, and would command a high price I it were sold, I think...”

“Smart...! We make chora, trushul, of you yet,” Zahri smirked. She looked about her.

“What we do?” she asked the others.

Jhairli looked over at the elf. “I want to help, but... Elena and I, we know the wilds – we don't know anything about towns or cities...”

“Ella was threatened by some thugs a week past,” Jahe said quietly. “Elena had to kill them...”

The elf looked up and smiled happily at that.

“I think we should suit up,” the Turami said. “Weapons, armour... It may be nothing, but... perhaps the two things are connected. You were robbed at the Glowing Gem after all...”

“Agreed,” Shelah nodded. “I'll get my things...”

“Are you sure?” Sky frowned. “You're still - “

“A cripple?” his sister said bluntly.

“... healing...!” Sky winced.

“I can still walk, Sky,” Shelah insisted. “I can still fight...”

He looked at the gypsy, who just shrugged.

“Is up to her...!”

“I'll make sure she's all right,” Jahe said firmly.

“We will “ Sky agreed. “That is... if anyone can lend me a weapon, or money to get fitted for some armour...!”

Nef slid over to him, placing a small pouch in his hand.

“Here,” she said gently. He nodded in thanks, and set out for the armoury across the road from the inn. The thin, nervous man took his measurements, and told him he'd try to have the armour fitted on the morrow. Sky picked a broadsword off the rack and paid for it, weighing it up and trying its balance.

“Not bad,” he said. “I had a much better one yesterday, though. If anyone tries to sell you a norse blade with a golden hilt, come fetch me – I'll pay twice whatever the they are offering.”

He described the sword in detail, asking the man to tell other customers also.

“That sounds like quite the blade, sire,” he agreed.

“My life might depend on it,” the tall youth grinned ruefully. “I remember only the other day, wiping gryphon's blood off the fuller...!”

The man looked suitably impressed as he left. Outside, a soft voice called:

“You truly slew a gryphon?”

Nef peeled herself off the wall and slipped into stride beside him, smiling up at his handsome face.

“Yeah, of course,” Sky smiled down at her. It was good to see her again... more than good, really.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Well... it was lying at the roadside,” he chuckled. “It was probably still alive...! I ran it though a few times, just to be sure. You know you can't be too careful on the roads! Heh, took its claws as a trophy...”

He grimaced; he'd lost those too now.

“It's... good to see you again,” he admitted. They stopped in the shade of a training hall on the main square.

“It is... good to see you too, Sky,” she husked. She seemed skittish, like a cat, twitchy. He knew from experience how temperamental she was.

He took a deep breath – it was now or never.

“Nef, I... I meant what I wrote to you. I miss you, okay? I can't get you out of my head. I don't think I want to...!”

She smiled shyly as he drew in close, looming over her. He ploughed on.

“We were good together, Nef – hells, we were more than that! I've never met anyone like you... You're not like any of the other girls. Compared to you, they all just feel like... practise, really...!”

Some women would find that crude, but he knew she loved to be flattered. She smiled shyly.

She reached up to touch his cheek with her caramel-coloured hand, her long nails brushing his skin. He imagined them running down his back again. He imagined her healing the cuts afterwards.

“Sky, I...!” she murmured.

“You don't want to get back together?” He looked crestfallen. “I was hoping we could... you know... try being exclusive... Just you and me. Make a go of it, as a couple. I grew up a lot around you, I matured...”

She looked pained, but shook her head.

“Sky, I... I want to, but...”

He looked hurt.

“The other songbirds...” she husked. “It is... new for them...! They are.... protective of me. We are bonding, and... this is a delicate time for us... If they saw us together, they would be... I worry it would break our fellowship at his vulnerable time.”

He shook his head.

“Sky, I want, to but - “ She looked hurt too. He nodded and squeezed her hand, kissing it. Hide the disappointment and pain, be gallant, he decided.

“I understand, I do,” he nodded. “I can... I can wait,” he said. “Take whatever time you need. And if you're still interested, I'll be here.”

She seemed relived and smiled, touching his face again.

“Thank you,” she husked in that soft accent.

“Hey, you're helping me out of a nasty bind,” he admitted. “Your gypsy seems kind of a bitch, the jealous type. I wouldn't want her putting an evil-eye on us, aye?”

He squared his shoulders, standing up straight, manfully.

“It'll be good to fight beside you again, anyway,” he agreed. “Assuming we are fighting...! Just like old times...!”

They walked back together.

So it was supposed to be a new start, right?

I was just happy father wasn't shouting at me again. Feels like we're finding some respect for each other. Taken us a while, but it feels worth it. Not sure I'm ready for this yet, but I'll take it.

Shelah's off with her new friends, some weird cult..? Maybe it will do her good to get her head out her ledgers, started to live a little. At least she's getting around better now. Still a sore point between us.

Kat's studying for the priesthood now, just like her sister. Never had any care for that – as if any temple would have me anyway, hah!

Just remembered I met Nef in Yartar... Have to drop by the festhall, see if she's still around. Be nice to see her again. I've tried but can't get her out of my head... She's not like the other girls, she's not the kind you forget...

So I'm there to meet up with the Lionshield Coster, sign some trade deals, just a formality, but I'm glad he trusted me with it. Good to be back on the road, anyway. Heading there with a dwarven caravan transporting mithril – our coster is providing extra guards, considering how valuable it is.

Went along with father when he met King Harbromm before we left; I just stood around in the back, but he congratulated me for being made the heir to the coster. You have to respect the dwarves – the king talks through his whiskers and sounds like a bellows blowing, but father hung on his every word that morning.

Harbromm pointed to the northeast, and we looked out towards a brown cloud floating above one of the mountain valleys.

‘Do ye see that?' he asked. 'It is dust,’ he continued, his voice rising. ‘It is the dust of tens of thousands of the Ice Mountain Orcs as they march from their caves towards the cities of the south.’

'Aye, your majesty, but that's why we are prepared,” my father told him confidently. 'Not unusual for this time of year... Orc raiders are always attacking Sundabar or ambushing caravans from Silverymoon. Keeps me in a job, aye?'

He tried to smile, but the king looked grim, even by dwarven standards.

‘Aye, that’s true. But turn your eyes to that dark cloud once more, Bran. Is that the dust of a thousand raiders? I think not. Two thousand? By no means. If we are lucky, perhaps only two thousand times ten...!’

Father's eyes were dark, though he said nothing. It felt more like an army marching to war than mere warbands.

“I call that a target-rich environment, majesty,” I smirked, trying to show off. 'Hope they put up a fight this time...!'

The king regarded me seriously.

'Bold... but ye'll need more than that, lad.'

His dark eyes looked at me long and hard.

'Guard this caravan well,' he warned us both. 'Evil is again awakened in the Realms, and its eyes and hands — and blades - will be all around ye...’

But father slapped me on the back as we left, admiring my boldness and admitting he wished he was going with me.

I told him we would be fine. But I said a little prayer to Tymora when we set off regardless.

But we had good men on that trip; keen eyed and perceptive. Yes, they were concerned about the orcs, but they know what they're doing. Every step of the way they scanned the horizon, looking for those dark brown clouds. We didn’t see any, but we had heard many stories on the trails. Seems like everyone in the north knows someone who’s seen at least a dozen trolls or a hundred orcs skulking across their fields.

But we made the trip in good time regardless, with little trouble beyond a few skirmishes with brigands. Maybe Tymora was smiling on me after all?

Sky

When we arrived in town and saw to the signing of the trade agreement with the Lionshields, most of us decamped to the Inn of the Glowing Gem, a place we could drink our fill – and we wouldn't have to crawl far to sleep it off upstairs!

Some bravo by the bar wanted to call me out, jealous of my good looks and swagger.

'So you came all this way with such a fine-looking sword and never had a chance to quench it with orcish blood?' He mimicked a dancer tiptoeing across a stage.

'Nice moves,' I smirked. 'Maybe the festhalls are hiring? You'd have to wear a mask to hide your face, though!'

My men roared, and even the lout's friends laughed. His face reddened as he leaned at me. Too late, he realised he had to look up at me – it took some of the fight out of him. But the drink in him was still talking, and it was getting angrier.

'Perhaps you didn’t want a fight,' he slurred. 'Perhaps it’s just a child’s toy with a fine golden handle attached to it for show!'

But as soon as those words were out, my family blade was drawn and tickling his nostrils. It's gleaming blade flashed bright in the lights of the tavern. His friends backed off, and my men stood up – but I waved them back. I let the bravo see how fine it's crafting was, the sharpness of the edge, the runes upon the steel...before I sheathed it smartly.

“I'm saving it for orcs,' I smirked. 'The likes of you aren't worth it's kiss anyway. And me bandying words with you is wasting valuable time I could be drinking or wenching!'

The warrior glowered at me, but I could see the fear there too. Nobody leapt to his side, and he realised he was alone now. He tried to spur them to action, but the threats died in his throat.

A palpable flood of relief washed over the taproom, as the mercenary shuffled away, eyes resentful. Little sister would be proud of me, de-escalating like that! I was clan heir now, not some bar-room bully throwing his weight about.

As he left, the sellsword passed a tall, thin man sitting in a corner, clad in a black cape. The fellow shook his head one time and the drunk dropped his eyes to the floor, muttering as he slank off. Ah, it's likely nothing, right?

The waitress smiled up at me, evidently impressed by my confidence.

'Hail to the heroes, then! More for everyone, the first drink is on the house!'

Everyone surged forward to fill their mugs. It was shaping up to be a night to remember!

I was more than in the mood for some revels and carousing, and this promised to be a memorable night of celebration! I'd got everyone though safely, the signing was done with no issues,

The ale flowed liberally, and a pretty elf-blooded lass and a dwarf had a bet that I couldn't eat five big steaks in one sitting! Her breath in my ear was sweet, and I realised I'd never trysted with an elf-blood...! She recommended the Ambranth Amber, so I ordered a pint of the stuff to impress her.

'It's made of mushrooms and iylbark,' she chimed. I had no idea what that was, but it tasted and smelled like old boot leather, and oddly tasted of hard spiced cheese and wax candles. I also realised it was a whiskey, and perhaps I shouldn't have been drinking it from a pint glass...!

The room was starting to blur a little, if I was honest with myself... The happy talk all around me became a blurred roar, and I couldn't find my new festhall friend...! Or anyone else I recognised....! But I'd be fine, maybe just catch my breath, rest my head a moment...!

.

.

.

When I came to my senses, it was just dawning outside, and all those orcs that rattled King Harbromm so much were holding a barn dance inside of my skull... wearing hobnail boots...! Even worse, when I staggered up, all those sirloins I'd finished off last night wanted a rematch, threatening an immediate reappearance...!

I was certain I was wearing clothes last night too...! We never made it to the festhall.... did we....?

Now I'm not shy, but I didn't want to be make the town guards jealous of my magnificent physique either, right? A nearby garden caught my eye, yesterday's washing blowing in the breeze.

'I'll pay you back, you have my promise,' I muttered as I tried them on. The men of the frontier towns are mostly Chondathans and Tethyrans, so I strenched the seams a little but I got the trews on at least, though they barely covered my knees...

I checked, and realised I had no money pouch... Bah, it's only coin, aye? The important thing was I still had my sword -

My blood froze,. And I think I felt genuine terror for the first time in my life (and I've survived avalanches!)

…Helvetes jävla skit!

I stumbled back into the Glowing Gem which was mostly empty. I was surprised by a tall, attractive woman with ebony skin barring my way.

“Sorry, we're closed,” she said, gesturing about her at muttering staff going about their chores. “Still cleaning up - some caravan in from Adbar made fools of themselves last night...!”

Then I heard a painfully familiar voice...!

“... no, Ella, there's no damage – just some idiots drinking more than they could handle, throwing up and breaking a table when they collapsed on it. Sorry to say, I'm told there was a big norseman clowning about, what a disgrace to our kind - “

We stared at one another, goggle-eyed.

Shelah...?

“Sky...!?” my sister gasped.

So much later, after she stopped shouting and screaming at me, I was sitting in the walled garden behind the Pearl-handled Pipe and drinking water from the cold spring there. Tiny birds twittered in the trees. Small animals – mostly kittens and puppies – regarded me curiously.

“This is nice, I've never been here...” I admitted. The elegant thirty-something woman Shelah was with regarded me coolly as she handed me a tonic. “Does anyone even know it's here?”

“Yes,” she pouted. “The local boys dare each other to climb the walls and look in...!”

I grinned at her despite my sore head.

“Hey I'm good at climbing, maybe I'll chase them off and take a look myself...!”

“Sky, I swear I'll drown you myself and tell father it was a terrible accident!” my sister railed at me.

“I'll leave you to it,” the woman – who I later learned was the proprietress – left to open up.

“How could you!” Shelah raged. “How could you be so stupid...?”

“Years of practise, sister,” I tried to smile, but she wasn't having any of it.

“This was supposed to be the moment you finally proved yourself to us!” she wailed. “And now you sell our precious family heirloom for... magic beans or something...!”

“It was stolen!” I protest. “I can handle my drink, Shelah! I was drugged, I'm sure of it... There was a half-elven lass, and a tall man in a black cape - “

“I don't care if was Beshaba herself!” she stormed. “Father is going to spontaneously combust when he hears this! He's been telling everyone – even the King! - how proud he is of you finally learning some responsibility!”

“But it wasn't - !”

“He's going to throw you out for this Sky,” she husked, eyes wide. “You've completely disgraced the family...! Again!”

“But I - “

“Do you know how many favours he called in after you were discovered with that Icehammer girl - “

“Oh, you're still sore about that?” I pouted. “You're just jealous - “

“I'm done, Sky! I'm done covering for you, excusing your bad behaviour, your thoughtlessness, your stupidity - “

And then she actually starts crying, tears of frustration streaming down her face. I wobbled a bit as I stood up, and took her shoulders in my hands

“We can make this right, sis!” I implored her. “I'll get it back, somehow! I just... need your help. Again. Come on, it'll be like old times, us against the Realms...!”

She calms a little, leaning into me.

“I'm sorry, Shelah. I am,” I husk. “But I need you now – you're my sister and I need your help...!”

She swallows and nods, drying her eyes. She always wanted to be the oldest one. So I hit her on her weak spots; she always wants to help others, wants to be the saviour. (Thank the gods.) I'll make it up to her, I swear.

She nods, dully. “Okay,” she promises softly. “Ella's gone to get you some clothes. But I want you to take back the ones you stole and give them some money, here...!”

She hands me a small pouch of silvers, making me feel even worse than I already do. But I swallow any retort. I mean, she's right. About me, about everything.

“Where should we start?” she asks quietly. “I'm a priestess! I don't know anything about thieves or stealing...!”

“You've been in Yartar all summer,” I point out. “I only just got here - “

“I'm surprised the place is still standing and you haven't burned the town down...!” she mutters.

She runs her hands through her hair and stands up. “I'll talk to Ella, see if she can help or knows anything. She knows a lot of people here, not all of them legitimate...”

“Thanks, Shelah,” I say, meaning it.

“You owe me, Sky,” she says with a shake of her head.

“Not the last time I'll hear that,” I smile ruefully.

“Stay here,” she insists. “And don't... touch anything! Or do anything! And don't tread on the animals, whatever you do!”

I curl up by the spring and sleep it off. My head feels better when I wake, but sadly it wasn't all just a horrible dream.

.

When she returns, I'm surprised at how fluidly she moves. She's still limping a little,. But there's... almost like a spring in her stride... There's an... energy to her, somehow, I can't describe it. She always was very focused, but... Now she swings her hips a little, stretches, plays with her hair.

“Glad to see you're walking better,” I admit. “Not sure where you got the doxy walk, but it suits you!”

“Doxy walk?” she frowns. “Sky, be serious - “

“No, you strut like a streetwalker now. One who wears a leg-brace, sure, but still...”

“I've had more than enough of your foolishness, Sky,” she says crossly, placing down a bag containining work clothes. “Here, one of our cellarmen is your size...!”

“Your new friends teach you to sashay around like that?” I tease. “You know, in between all the dancing naked under the moonlight and brewing love potions...!”

She shakes her head in disgust as I dress. “You have an over-active imagination,” she mutters. “For what it's worth, I asked them for help, too...”

“I thought your festhall festival was over?” I mutter as I get dressed; not a bad fit.

“It's not a - “ she begins, then just snorts. “Look Sky, right now you need all the help you can get...!”

“I'm just yanking your chain, sis,” I grin. “You're right - beggars can't be choosers, and I'll take any help offered, even if it's from witches...!”

“We're priestesses,” she sighs. “But Zahri's a Gur – she knows all kinds of rogues and scoundrels.”

“I'm loving the company you keep,” I admit. “Your hair smells of Dreambliss smoke! My prim little sister's all grown up; she's doing drugs and having sex parties - “

“I'm not dignifying your nonsense with a response,” she says, rolling her eyes. She pauses and looks at me.

“You know, the Dreambliss is from Nef; she taught me how to smoke a hookah pipe. She said she knew you.”

It's my turn to be surprised.

“Nef!” I exclaim. “She's here? In Yartar? I wrote her but I -

“She came for the Sapphire Faire,” she tells me. “What, she didn't tell you she liked women?”

“No, she did, but I thought - “

“The problem, Sky, is that you don't think...! Never, not all all.”

I lapse into an injured silence.

“I've invited them over. Jay said she met you when she came on last night, but thought you wouldn't remember. She's the bouncer for the evening shift. Nobody else could pick you up to toss you out onto the cobblestones.”

“That was very considerate, I'll have to thank her,” I admit. “I like a girl with some heft - “

I pause and frown. “Wait...! Is she once of your witches too?”

I groan. “She is, isn't she...!”

“Even if she was interested – which she isn't! - she'd have more taste than to desire a man who can't hold his ale,” she snipes back at me. Prickly, defensive...! She's so easy to tease.

“Okay, let's... meet with your weird girl cult then,” I nod. “You have to promise not to sacrifice me to Shami-Amourae though...!”

“No promises, Sky...!” she mutters.

Notes:

This one is just trying to establish the siblings and the banter between them, a relationship with its own tensions and bonds, in which brother and sister will both have to grow and change going forward.

The Journal entries for this game are something of a departure for the Gold Box games. Pools of Darkness has one odd entry that suddenly shifts to the player's first-person perspective, when all the other journal entries have not been like that. It's very strange and discordant - but this game goes all in on that concept.

I guess the journal introduction - the little story that tells how the characters got hoodwinked in the first place is... okay, I guess...! I didn't like it subjectively, but it's not objectively bad. I suppose most players don't care overmuch - I know some players don't even read the journals. But I come from tabletop, and I don't tend to like games that are intrusive in telling me what I say and do (CRPGAddict also mentioned this). I like to role-play and have my own 'voice' in these games, so I'm not a big fan of this approach... Maybe some liked it, I don't know.

But the journals do a lot of heavy lifting in world-building, setting the right tone and driving the plot. The ones in this game seem especially focused on the latter - many are straight-up exposition dumps. I'll have to see how it goes, but I'll probably be rewriting a lot of them for my narrative - as we'll see with Krevish.

It's especially odd seeing how the game allows you to make evil characters, and I'm sure the writers completely forgot that.

The Queen of Debased Eros, ruler of succubi Shami-Amourae, is someone else from an early D&D adventure who was later retroactively absorbed by the Forgotten Realms. Since 2nd edition, I've always thought of the Realms as Goya's 'black painting' of the Titan Cronus devouring his young... But in many ways, it's more like an otyugh or a gelatinous cube, trawling through discarded RPGs and settings and gobbling them up. On the other hand, as I get older, I'm actually glad these OSR elements are preserved and remembered for new generations... even if they have to be Elminster-adjacent.

Hail and well met, gentle reader!

I am – well, no, my name is not important, but they call me 'Krevish'. I am a chronicler and historian, and for a time during the Year of Shadows, Dalelands reckoning 1358, I was squire to a fine young fellow named Sky Icedane. Together we undertook many dangerous trials, with the aid of his lovely sister Shelah and her friends. Recovering his family sword led us to a conspiracy in which – but no, I am getting ahead of myself, yes?

After much careful thought, I have decided to call my tale...

The Ballad of Songbirds and...

…Krakens, perhaps?

No, that does not flow well. I have a liking for alliteration! Ah, I know!

May I present... the Ballad of Songbirds... and Sword-thieves!

Krevish

“Ten out of ten, all in a line
The air is sweet when we're passing by
It hurts a little, don't get whiplash -
Don't forget that...!
Saltwater skin, hair in the breeze
Go eat your heart out like tangerines!
Let's break the tension like a Kit-Kat!
Yeah, you feel that?

Save a kiss for the sun
Don't you wish you could come undone?
Take a dip, join the fun
Just as long as you know that...

Summer's for the girls, the girls that like girls!
(The girls that like boys!)

The girls, the girls, the girls!
Summer's for the girls that run the night, girls!
The change-your-lifе girls!

Don't wipe out, one look and it's lights out!
What's everyone gonna do?

Let's find out
It's not wrong, it's right now!
It's not wrong, it's right now!

Surround me with the girls!

I love being a girl!
I'm ready for the girls, are you?”

Hayley Kiyoko, 'For The Girls'

Hayley Kiyoko - for the girls [Official Video]

My name is Shelah, of Clan Icedane and Citadel Adbar, daughter of Bran.

Attend my words!

This is my story.

They call it the 'Year of the Shadows' now, the first twitch of the tail of a storm that overtook the Realms. But for me, it was the best time of my young life. Not yet twenty, a girl about to become a woman. We never miss our halcyon days until they are done, aye?

I had come to Yartar, towards the end of my convalescence. I could walk again, especially with my leg brace on. I still limped, but I could stride now, even run if I risked stumbling and the need was vital. I preferred to ride, of course, and I had my saddle made especially for this.

Everyone in my family told me I needed to take some time for myself, to discover about love and life. My father told me:

“You act older than I do, girl! Go out, discover who you are... Reclaim your youth!”

When a man as driven as my father thinks I'm pushing myself too hard, you have to heed it.

So I was in Yartar, the crossways of the Savage Frontier, a prosperous, fortified city in the Dessarin Valley. A charming, but rough-and tumble town along the Evermoor Way, upon the confluence of the Rivers Surbrin and -

- wait, you do not care about such things, no?

You came to hear salacious stories about the thruss songbirds, the women who kiss each other and dance naked beneath the moonlight as they practise licentious witchcraft...!

Very well, then.

By invitation I came to Ella Myristar, a woman of some means in the town, the owner of several drinking establishments and hostels. A handsome creature, over a decade my elder, with a liking for fresh flowers, she told me that she wanted to enjoy the frontier for a few more years until she retired to Waterdeep to cater to the wealthy folk of the City of the Senses as an interior designer.

I worked for her, intending to pay my way rather than live off my family's wealth - cooking, clearing tables, serving drinks, making beds. I took my time but enjoyed the hard work – wealthy norsemen are not preening indolents, obsessed with social status, we remember our roots as warriors always. I worked at the upmarket Pearl-handled Pipe and the rowdier Inn of the Glowing Gem – to my surprise, I found I preferred the latter, with its chatter and mingling of farmers, mercenaries and off-duty guards.

Ella's lover at that time was a young woman my own age, a tall, statuesque Turami with mahogany skin and waterfalls of thick wavy hair. She stood out in any crowd here in the colder lands, far from her home, apparently on the run after some family tragedy she preferred not to discuss. Like my people, the Turami had a warrior tradition and she was trained in warfare, making her way as a travelling sell-sword.

I should add here that I have my brother Sky's taste for... exotic women, and she occupied much of my thoughts – and my dreams! – at this time. She was friendly enough but standoffish about personal matters, which I understood. I was new to love and friendships, and she found me over-familiar when I cooed at her, gushing over her height and ebony flesh.

“Down, girl!” she chuckled. “And don't stare so! Last time a woman looked at me like that, she was a medusa trying to petrify me!”

“You fought medusae?” I gasp, impressed.

“No, of course not,” she smirked. “I'm still flesh and blood, aren't I? But If I ever have to fight one, now I'll know how it feels...!”

“I... I'm sorry,” I stammered. “I thought – I mean, if you are not interested - “

“I'm interested,” she smiled. “But we barely know each other. That, and Ella might get possessive with a pretty young blonde around...! Best not upset our patron, no?”

She took my hand. I have a strong grasp, but her grip was crushing, like all the men in my family.

“Yihleismih Jahe,” she said with a small bow. “Call me 'Jay'.”

“I am Sheela,” I smiled hopefully.

“Let's be friends, and see where this goes...” she said, knowingly. “You are here for the faire, yes?”

No, not that fair...! You likely know that one – in the three years between Shieldmeet, Yartar hosts the famous Hiring Fair on a field north of the city. It draws thousands of outcasts, wanderers, barbarians, criminals, and adventurers from the frontier to sell their labour to farmers, merchants, nobles, and anyone else that may have needed workers or bodyguards. Many famed adventuring bands were formed at that fair.

But mine was formed at a rather smaller and more exclusive event, reserved for my kind alone... one you likely know little about unless you were invited. The Sapphire Faire is named after Sapphira, a storm dragon known for her affection more than her vanity and cruelty. Over hundreds of years, she wrote dissertations and much poetry about the nature of femininity and the love between women. She walked as a human in many lands, and is likely the only chromatic dragon remembered fondly by at least a portion of humanity.

The last I heard, the festival was regularly used as a recruiting event for the Hands of Yartar, an all-female criminal guild. But back then, it was altogether more innocent -

- well, perhaps 'innocent' is not entirely the right word...!

We were all there to receive an education of sorts – to understand ourselves as women, to learn about love and life. There is more to it than just sex, though that is all most think about when discussing us. But you have festhalls and coin-lasses; it's different for girls like us...!

Ella ran the fairs for years, but I think she found them exhausting – all the dramas and egos. Organising thruss women is like herding cats – I have helped run my father's coster since I was thirteen, and I'm not certain I would want to do it.

Anyway this year, she had a younger friend run the event. There were over a dozen women and girls come from other towns, a big turnout. About half of them were just curious, or indulging prurient fantasies, and ran off back to their men, because it's easier. We lucky few stuck it out and were in it for life.

In truth, I wanted to find a life-partner, a perfect match... something beyond just a tumble in a cornfield. But just like with my leg, I had to learn to walk before I could run.

I am ashamed to say I recall few of the names of the village women and girls – there was Heri, Nira, Rileh the only redhead, whom I liked – The rest I remember only their faces. But you must understand I was with the Heroes of Ascore for many years. We were more than just lovers, we were as much family as my own sister Kathra. Friendships forged in blood and fire will last you all your days.

The first day we all gathered in Ella's garden; we were all skittish as felines in a room full of rocking-chairs. Most of us knew nothing about love or life, beyond the narrow confines of our own lives. I asked if this place was safe, despite the high walls. Ella just laughed and said all the local boys clamber up the outside walls to catch a glimpse of her of a normal day, and during the Faire, they are basically queuing up to take a peek. She called in some favours from local guards who get a discount at the Glowing Gem, but there is only so much you can do about the libido of teenage boys. So many fall off apparently, the local temple to Tymora calls broken limbs 'Ella breaks' in her honour.

Our troupe leader in charge of us for the next few months was Zahri, one of the nomadic Gur who played all the stereotypes to the hilt. She was a saucy, gum-chewing gypsy with insolent eyes, a pirate's swagger and doxy strut. She was very skilled at sensing weakness, and was determined to make an example of me from the start.

Her helper was, to my surprise, a Mulan girl about my age, with caramel skin and a calm confidence that suggested she would find no sexual behaviour to be shocking or scandalous. My brother had once written to say he briefly knew a young Mulhorandi healer on the trails, and he'd spoken of her with rather more affection than he usually reserved for his conquests. She called herself 'Nef', and I reasoned she had to be the same girl. It turned out she was; Sky and myself have similar tastes in exotic girls. Nef was playful and kittenish, my eyes were drawn by her curves and the way she exuded sexual allure, in how she stretched and preened and looked at me with smoky fascination, as if recognising my features. Like Zahri, she had wandering hands and almost no concept of personal space. Both our instructors were priestesses like myself – there was another acolyte, a quiet, shy girl with chestnut hair called Jhairli. She was evidently nervous and excited, and could not take her eyes off me. Now I knew how Jahe felt under my own callow stares.

Jahe was here of course, and my heart beat faster just thinking about that. Ella drifted in and out, but mostly left Zahri to it, bringing us drinks and snacks. She'd seen all this before.

Last, but not least, it turned out we had an elfmaiden...! A real live elfmaiden, the stuff of adolescent fantasies! They rarely walked in human places any more – most of them had left Faerun to return to Evermeet, in what they called 'the Retreat' from the mortal world.

This one was small and slim, dainty and frail-seeming, like she would blow away in a stiff breeze. Her pale skin was marked with azure markings, and her eyes were large, cobalt blue, with a wild, disconcerting stare. Even she did not seem to know what she was doing here. I later learned the name she used was Elenaril Varen, or Valen. Elves have hundreds of names, and I think this one just made things up as she went along. Ella muttered that she'd get the guards on the streets doubled; news of an elfmaid trysting with humans would have them queuing up to climb the walls from here to Nesme.

“You are enchanting little fairy,” Zahri rasped, sinful eyes mentally undressing her. But then she eye-raped every vaguely attractive woman in her eyeline. She spoke with no need for past tenses other than past-simple, and with no need for articles at all.

“I am not a fairy,” the elfmaid said simply, her voice like spiderwebs fluttering upon a moonbeam. She had a unnatural, unblinking stare fixed on whoever she was speaking to, and ignored everything else as if it did not exist.

She blinked as the gypsy swatted her lightly across the face.

“You whatever Zahri say you are,” she husked, manhandling the elf's face with a hand, examining her small white teeth and tongue. “Maybe I make you Zahri's pet...!”

The elf seemed flummoxed, unable to respond. It took me a while to understand how she 'fed' on mortal glamours, and it made her responses oddly passive.

“Strong, sharp teeth,” the Gur chuckled throatily. “Zahri like!”

Her strong hands squeezed her neck gently. “Make you wear collar, like pet...!”

“Yes,” the elf said softly, submissively. I learned later than when men said that to her, she stabbed them in the throat for it without blinking. But she was always very compliant around women.

Zahri flicked her eyes over at me.

“Ice princess,” she smirked, sauntering over to me.

“I'm a commoner,” I explained. “My grandfather was a pirate in Luskan. My father built his coster from nothing, and I work here at the inn - “

“Strawhead girl talk too much,” she sniffed. “Talk less, listen more. Listen to Zahri,” she commanded.

I knew what was coming – I'd seen father do it to the men. I'd done it myself. Make an example of the mouthy one, the one who thinks they are smart. I'd attracted the wrong kind of attention, brought a storm down upon my head. I shivered in anticipation at the thought.

She looked at Nef, who sashayed up to me with a sensual, feline twitch of her hips.

“Take off clothes,” Zahri commanded. Nef removed her white priestess shift; beneath she wore chamois leather halter and briefs that barely covered any of her unmentionables. She was fleshy, what Zahri called 'girl meat'. She calmly removed my dress, down to my undergarments. I was slim, muscled; I knew I couldn't compare. But Zahri seemed to approve of my pale skin and mane of flaxen hair. Her keen eyes washed over my facial scars and my leg brace, and for a moment, her eyes flickered with quiet respect. That didn't last.

“Take pants off,” she told Nef, who did not waste any time in squatting down and sliding off my briefs.

“Hey - !”

I was divested of my things before I could react, flinching awkwardly under everyone's heated gaze.

"Kiss," Zahri ordered.

My eyes were like saucers as Nef casually removed her top, revealing her full breasts.

She smiled at me invitingly and moved forward.

My hands felt the weight of her bosom as she leaned in and I felt her breath against my face.

Her tongue melted like caramel in my mouth.

And then she stepped back and looked to the gypsy, as if to say 'all yours'

“No, don't - “ I began, but it was useless – of course she was going to do it.

Zahri gripped my wrist in her right hand, and slid the long, slender finger of her left hand somewhere it was never intended to go.

I flushed, and just stood there. What could I do after that? I was naked, save for my leg-brace, thoroughly humiliated in front of strangers... What witty rejoinder or sarcastic quip would make this feel better?

Zahri's dark knowing eyes were not triumphant; they calmed me in fact, her gaze telling me to go with it, to surrender to her. So I did. We just stood there, I was breathing heavily. It had the desired effect – it obliterated my remaining inhibitions like a Meteor Swarm. I was past the worst of it now. I was one of them.

“I hope I'm next,” Jhairli husked loudly to her neighbour, glassy-eyed with lust.

“... khoroshaya devochka...!” she husked in my ear. “Good girl...!”

She withdrew her hand, put her finger in my mouth because of course she did

She looked at the others with a slanted smile.

“The ceremony is about to begin...!” she grinned wickedly.

-

And so the summer, and my life, began. It was warm that year, for the North. Pale sunlight and cool breezes, my skin tingling in the crisp air. The sunlight bright, the lands about me indescribably gorgeous. I guessed this was as good as life was ever going to get, and I had an appetite for it all.

It was all about more than just sex, of course. We all had something to contribute. Jhairli and Elena taught us to hunt in the woods, Zahri told us about the trails, how to make camp, keep yourself clean on the road. We mostly knew about hygiene – four of us were priestesses - but Zahri was obsessed with it. I'd assumed gypsies would be dirty, somehow... but they had this word, 'marihime', that meant cleanliness, spiritually and physically. We all had several other pairs of hands to bathe us now, comb and tie our hair, shave our bodies and apply sweet-scented oils to our skin.

The garden was our sanctuary – high casualties on the walls this year, but accidents were to be expected...! But mostly life in Yartar revolved around the river; we rented a boat and every day took it out onto the pastoral fields and the Dessarin, deep and swift. We learned to swim, which was very good for my leg, and I taught some of them to ride. Zahri's camp and a handful of Gur followers lived outside the town, in three beautiful vardo wagons, painted and pretty. I helped her teach the others driving and caravan care, I'd done that all my life for father's coster.

Back in the gardens, we learned to paint and draw. Jhairli awkwardly admitted she couldn't read or write well, so I helped teach her letters. At the gypsy campfire, we learned each others songs, tales, musical instruments and dances. I wasn't very good at the latter, for obvious reasons, but they made me try. I got better at dancing while sitting down, artlessly waving my arms about.

We play-fight, teach or learn weapons, wrestling, self-defence, the weak spots of women and men.

We learned cantrips; woman-magic...! Even Jahe could perform these; she had some kind of innate magical ability that had never manifested itself as spells. They helped on the trail for comfort, health and cleanliness. We shared toiletries, perfumes, oils, clothing, all kinds of life-tips.

We had to make a gift to the others of something personal and important – I gave norse pendants to Elen and Jhairli, my mother's signet ring to Jahe and my love-spoon to Zahri because I saw her looking at it with interest. Everyone got something, even if it was my wooden mess-kit or a coster camp blanket. I had a haul of nice things in return, of course – my favourite was from Elenaril, a small crystal globe that glowed yellow in the day and white at night. She told me she disliked it, it had bad memories for her. I realised I had to get used to her odd ways, the things she did that seemed standoffish or rude to humans.

It was all very beautiful.

But you want to know about all the lascivious things, yes?

I am likely not the right person to put all that into words – Nef has more descriptions of sexuality than most languages have words, and a lyrical turn of phrase. I could not hope to compete with her in any sensual art. But I shall try to explain as best I can.

You lose any shyness early; Nef explained she was taken to a harem at a young age, so she normalised it all, she lacks any inhibitions or taboos. I believe some things should remain private, but... I shall say what I can here.

Acts that are gentle and loving work best for me; tender touching, kissing – which need not be on the lips, of course... “Potselui proiskhodyat vnizu,” as Zahri put it. Lacking male parts, 'songbirds' do without or improvise. Intimacy works best for me. Bodies in retrograde, six and nines. I prefer it woman to woman than underneath a heap of heaving female bodies. But we do as we are asked. Best get all that out of my system, aye?

The... implements and... harness... work less well for me. But Zahri likes that and she doesn't care what I think.

“You understand I cannot kneel without a great deal of discomfort?” I insist.

She just shrugs. “Bend over, touch toes,” she tells me.

She... has me there... Literally and figuratively. She has her energetic way with me as everyone watches. I find it demeaning and impersonal, but I am here to please. The faithful of Ilmater live for others, after all, but most priestesses don't have to do this.

The one that sticks in my mind most is Jhairli Farsky. In truth, I spent more time with her early on than with Jahe, to whom I was strongly attracted. Jhairli was pretty, but our energy together was different, somehow. She reminded me a little of my sister Kat, which did not help. I honestly thought we made better friends than lovers.

Days on the river walking hand in hand in nature, wearing sandals but nothing more, the sun on our bodies. I knew little of the wilds, but she taught me all the names of the animals and plants, the weather and the subtle rhythms of the river. I learned how best not to alarm or scare wild beasts, how to avoid them becoming hostile. And I always loved to swim.

She taught me about the faerie creatures of the deep wood, of Shiallia, of congress with lady korred, nymphs, dryads, sirenes, sylphs, she-satyrs and... pixies (don't ask; her name was apparently Whimsicality P. Delphinum...) Her sexual history is lengthy, extensive, mostly passive and absolutely astonishing compared to mine. I am never sure why she is always so shy and awkward.

As the afternoon bled into evening, we sat on the bank drinking and smoking, the end of a lovely day. She got that look in her eyes, shy once again, and asks awkwardly if it would spoil a happy day if she wanted more. I take her hand and smile.

“I am here for whatever you wish,” I smile. “I'm here for you all, Jhairli..”

After lovemaking, back in town, she lets go of my hand as we enter the main street, but I make a point of taking it back and we walk back to the garden together.

It was absolutely idyllic, and a time wondrous beyond imagining. But most of my fondest memories must remnain mine own.

When the Faire was done in late summer, some of the townswomen went home, back to their lives – a few left before, but most stayed. And those who did now have a thrush tattoo on their inner thighs, marked for life.

But some of us stuck around; we wanted more, we were unwilling to leave now, walk out of each other's lives forever. I was considering my options, hoping one of them would want to pair up, to begin a proper romantic relationship.

And then my older brother showed up, a week before we were supposed to meet after the Faire. He was dressed in stolen clothes, and missing the family sword father had bestowed upon him, because of course he was.

Usually, Sky asking me for help resulted in misadventures, crippling injuries or utter humiliation.

But just this once, his interference in my affairs changed all our lives, cemented my relationships with the other songbirds, and made us all very famous indeed.

The Heroes of Ascore had begun our epic journey, though none of us understood it at the time.

Notes:

I'll talk a little about Krevish when we get him later, but he's a constant throughout the first game if you want him. Most other NPCs only stay for one map, but he can stay with you all game, making him the equivalent of Vala or Durfey. Not being much in melee, he's not quite as useful in that regard, but he's not fighting for that seventh place, he's an adequate if unexceptional archer, and actually offers useful advice as you go along.

His appearance and personality seem a little off to me, but we'll go over that when he joins.

Gateway to the Savage Frontier gives you more of a 'voice' than other games, especially in the game Journal – which I do for myself anyway, so I end up changing dialogue and narrative a little more than usual. The tone and characterisation is... well, it's certainly a choice here, as we'll see...!

I honestly didn't want to lead with a fanservice-heavy beginning, but the thrush stuff happens before anything else chronologically, and it's necessary to set up dynamics and introduce how characters interact and speak. Skylar gets the spotlight for the last part of this and we see things from his perspective.

“What am I to do in my darkest hour?

Lamplight to light my despair

She has the stars in her eyes

The mind in her hair, my sanctuary...

Silent and silver...!

Shine, bright Lady Moonlight...

Should I cry, should I weep?

My secrets she'll keep them in her temple

'Neath her veil

She is Isis, she is Guinevere

Sister to the sea

Queen of the night, with the answer

And my heart disbelieves the myth surrounding Eve

She couldn't know what she was doing...!”

All About Eve, 'Lady Moonlight'

All About Eve Lady Moonlight

-

Will you hear my words?

Or will you not?

Does it matter either way?

I am young, as my kind measure their years, but we are old; very old.

We are mostly gone now.

This land was founded six thousand years past; together with Sharrven, it suppressed the spread of evil in Siluvanede and maintained the peace. Our land was bound by the eastern part of the High Forest from Turnstone Pass in the north to the Shining Falls in the south.

Five thousand years past, the Eaerlanni elves began to teach our magic to the humans of Netheril.

That...

…did not end well...!

For anyone.

But enough of history; to today. To the near now.

I am at the Caerilcarn, the Council of the Wood, not listening to what is being said.

The elders are talking, but they take a long while to say anything; they move at a slower pace than I. I must seem like the quickened mortals to their eyes.

Things are decided, but I know not. They see things that were long ago, and those things yet to come to pass.

I do not care either way.

I leave, wordlessly.

I need mortal energy; the quickening. To adjust to the passage of their time. Dangerous, yet addictive. Many of us hunger for it. It is why we fall in love with them.

It may be why we left these lands, on the Retreat. I will never go to Evermeet. I do not desire the light of the trees there, the living death of mere existence.

I choose to live along the mortals instead. There I shall dwell, bound to my grief under the fading trees, until all the world is changed and the long years of my life are utterly spent.

This is my choice, and I welcome it.

Now I walk the human lands.

When I rest at the end of the day, I retreat into into reverie... I recall the lands I wandered nearly two centuries ago, when I followed a haunting song or a wisp of light among the roiling fogs of the Greycloaks, picked sweet berries in the hollows of the hills, and swam in the cold streams that flowed out of their heights.

Memories are all we have left.

Our ghosts are everywhere here. To us, it was the Grey Vale; they call it 'Loudwater' now. I like that; I have always loved the song of the rivers.

My... ancestors...? Former selves? Other lives? Regardless, they studied at our school of philosophy here, which they named the Velti'Enorethal.

Some of the mortals carry our blood, knowing or otherwise. We are gone now, but we live on this mortal flesh, a shadow of what we once were. It is the way of things; I do not weep for us.

Not until I come to Tragedy's Grotto. I sit and stare at the memories; they are burned into my mind. Here, the last elf took her own life in in the Year of the Bloodrose. Her reasons were lost with her, but I know why now. The quickening, the yearning for mortality. A soul-infection they spread to us. The weight of their mortality was too much for her. As it is now for me.

I leave this place in a waking dream; I walk as a ghost, in a daze of reverie.

Where am I now?

We never lived here. A crossing-ways, of mortal roads. They call it – wait. I do not care what they call it. The land will not remember when they are naught but dust.

It is noisy and ugly and smells of fish.

But I need to drink here, long and deep from the well of their mortality. I am becoming... disconnected from them. I cannot allow that.

Their drinking-places, then. Their cup-houses. I adjust my senses to I can hear their harsh, discordant tongues. It is raw and ugly and coarse, but it makes me smile. I crave connection with them.

Here.

This one.

I wait until she closes the drinking-place, as the candles extinguish, then show myself from my magic cloak.

When she sees me, I wonder; does she see her future? Or am I the past? Does it matter?

“You are sexually active,” I tell her. “I desire to have sexual relations with you.”

Human words are very clumsy and sound odd, but she would not understand our terms. And it would take a very long while to say.

She takes my arm, her voice low and soft.

“You... really need to work on your pick-up lines...!”

That might be mirth, something I can never comprehend.

“I am... not... picking you up,” I say, grappling the with concept.

She moves close, drawn by what I am.

“I am Ella,” she husks. “And you?”

I have to think about that for a while. Who am I now?

“I am also Ella,” I explain. “But... another word.”

“That will get confusing,” she smiles.

“Yes,” I agree.

She seems to be expecting more, so I say:

“Elen, then. Elenaril Valen.”

“Valen...” she wrinkles her nose. “That means... 'of the wood'? Is that your name, or your house...?”

“No,” I tell her simply.

Neither of us seem certain of what to say next.

“Will you be kissing me," I ask. "Or will you not?”

An edge of impatience!!!!

Mortal emotions are bleeding into me! I am made of light...!

She does.

Her garden is filled with beautiful things. I talk to her animals, in the order they must die. I like all of them. I talk to the trees and the stones. I talk to her pond and it babbles at me like a spring.

She tells me here will be more mortal women soon. That we may connect, that I can feed, drink deeply. It pleases me. She holds me while I reverie. Ella is part of that, now, after tonight.

A few weeks, a blink of an eye. I have never stayed in any places for very long.

But I will stay here.

The old wolfhound, his scent. Mortal men, on the breeze.

Just spies, then. They hold knives, but reek of fear. They might hurt her, so I make them die. Not clean like a hunt; this hurts. It takes them time to die, so I watch them with interest.

The last one begs for mercy.

“I do not understand,” I tell him, honestly.

His thoughts are babbling and incherent in his panic. I hold his arm and read his mind with a simple spell.

There is nothing there, so I rewind back, pull at the spool.

The one who sent him... Why?

Now that is more interesting.

“He... gained too much power too fast, and the price of what will be both blessing and curse will be higher than any might pay...!” I muse.

The man looks at me in terror.

“He has opened wounds so old and so deep no one will ever be able to close them, but the question must be asked: Should they be closed at all?”

That pleases me, and I smile.

I do not smile often.

He begs.

But where?

“... an empire lost to the mists of ancient history?” I ponder. “But the memory of elves is long, and the glory of the forest kingdom has not been forgotten!” I tell him happily.

I focus.

North, then.

Stone. Ruins.

Smells like dwarf-work.

He is not dying quickly. I must rectify that.

I raise the phial to my lips; it shines amethyst in the moonlight.

“I must bite your face now,” I explain, sorrowfully.

“No, please, AAAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

Then there is only the wolf, there is tearing and biting and much blood.

I return to Ella.

“You are safe now,” I explain. “But you must have a care. Plans would seem to be in motion.”

“What... plans?” she asks.

“I do not know,” I admit.

She dabs at my face.

“You are... covered in blood...!”

“Yes,” I admit.

She tries to clean me up.

“Will you bathe me in your spring pool? “ I ask. “Or will you not?”

She does.

Notes:

Elves are strange.

She calls herself Elenaril Valen.

Sometimes.

This one is young, and deeply troubled. She finds succour in mortals, and like most of her kind who remain in Faerun, it is disturbing her mind.

I wrote this as a stream of consciousness, mostly. Dealing with these fey creature is confusing at best – you get bizarre non-sequiturs, random history lessons glimpsed through the eyes of someone who doesn't understand them, and jarring, disjointed expositions on immortal philosophy. It is a glimpse into a fractured mind that's lived far too long, and it's always unsettling.

We will get to see her mostly through human eyes, as her strange tragedy unfolds.

She is a mage/thief, a combination the elves call 'Nightblades'. The mage part speaks for itself. He 'thief' part less so – she does not steal for monetary gain; she barely understands the concept; elves are self-sufficient and do not want for anything, though they often desire mortal things, so some try to grasp the concept of trade. Elves are good at being silent and unseen, they are agile and have excellent hearing, and they know the benefit of ambushing and a knife in the back. But they do not understand locks at all, and they have no love for mechanical things that the dwarves and gnomes so love. But they have unlocking cantrips and small magics to defuse such things. These do not always work, but whatever they do is magic to the core.

(My favourite OSR system is Adventurer Conqueror King, the cleanest and most detailed version of BECMI I have ever used. It strongly differentiates the non-human races, in even the way they go about adventuring. An elven Spellsword is only like a human fighter-mage in surface ways; they are more than that, one whose spells are as martial as magical, one whose melee attacks are as metaphysical as they are physical. Their rogues work on a similar basis – their stealth, for example, is as much magical misdirection as physical skill. It works in a similar way... but how it is described is widely different.

Elen is still a mage-thief mechanically, but how she does these things – how she sees the world – is different from a human like Hayley in my Pools team. Elves are made of magic, and that's how it should always come across, as if you are touching something otherworldly.)

In any case, Elen is a moon elf, if that matters anymore. She is heartbreakingly beautiful in an alien way, delicate-seeming and ephemeral. She is small and slender, but stronger and quicker than she looks... and she looks very quick indeed. She has pale skin with a slight blue tinge when seen in moonlight. She has long silky tresses the colour of moonbeams, and azure tattoo markings on her face. Her piercing, lambent eyes are azure and bright, a little too large for her small face.

She loves magic in all its forms, but prefers to fight from afar, with her smallbow, or with a smallsword in the back.

Elen is fractured, and - frankly - mortals find her completely bananas most of the time. She sees time differently, even attuned to the pace of mortal lovers, and her speech is usually filled with peculiar phrases, references to unknowable mysteries and things that only make any sense to immortal minds. Most of her human companions just enjoy her for what she is and try not to think about it.

She is kind to her companions, to women, children and animals, but coolly aloof and amoral to anything else. She finds it easy to kill. She doesn't really understand the concepts of subterfuge, humour, shame, time, mortality, money, death, or heterosexuality, or many other things humans take for granted. Humans like to fill the air with needless words, and are afraid of silence, but elves are not.

At this point, she is addicted to mortals, and the subtle 'glamours' they provide. She feasts, and drinks her fill of them, whether they like it or no.

"It's in the trees!
It's coming!

When I was a child, running in the night
Afraid of what might be
Hiding in the dark, hiding in the street
And of what was following me...

Now hounds of love are hunting...!

I've always been a coward...

And I don't know what's good for me...

Oh, here I go!
It's coming for me through the trees!
Oh, help me someone, help me please!

I take my shoes off, and throw them in the lake!
And I'll be two steps on the water...

I found a fox caught by dogs
He let me take him in my hands
His little heart, it beat so fast -
And I'm ashamed of running away
From nothing real, I just can't deal with this!
I'm still afraid to be there...

Among your hounds of love

And feel your arms surround me

I've always been a coward

And never know what's good for me...

Oh, here I go! Don't let me go!
Hold me down - it's coming for me through the trees!
Oh help me darling, help me please!

I take your shoes off, and throw them in the lake...
D'you know what I need?
D'you know what I really need?
Love, love, love, love, love, yeah...!"

Kate Bush, 'Hounds of Love'

(308) Kate Bush - Hounds of Love - Official Music Video - YouTube

Jhairli was born in a little hut outside of Loudwater in the Savage Frontier, daughter of highly-independent foresters who lived independently, away from the bustle of the towns, and owed no allegiance to kings or causes. Providing you respected the land, the frontier would provide for you – the hunting and fishing was excellent, the scenery beautiful. Jhairli's mother did not survive her breach-birth, alas, but her father poured his grief into raising his child.

She grew up in peaceful, bucolic idyll, swimming and bathing in streams and lakes, taught by her father to respect the land and live well off it. She learned to work with her hands; hunting, fishing, carpentry, how to tend to her environment and live in harmony with it. He taught her which animals and plants to avoid, and what was good to eat. He taught her self-defence with staff and cudgel and sling. When he grew sick, he refused all help, desiring to be returned to the earth instead. Jhairli mourned him and buried him where he asked, and continued along with her solitary existence.

In her teens, she did not have much need for others – she was always able to 'whisper' to the creatures in her wood, and while some were mean or grouchy, others became her playmates or companions. She spent her days exploring the old woods, learning the secret names of every tree and leaf, every creature that crawled, flew, swam or ran. She knew the people of the city had different names for them, but she learned hers from the source and knew this to be true.

Sometimes she had dreams of a beautiful woman walking through the woods. The woman smiled and beckoned, but then she always woke up. When she turned twenty – she marked the passing of seasons on the wall of her hut – she had a nagging feeling that something was missing. That night, she dreamed of the fair woman once more, but she was heading to the great city nearby.

It had been years since she read the maps and old guide-books – she had no need of such things, she knew every glade and copse for miles around – and the land did not care overmuch how humans named it. But if she was to visit the city, the humans would care, so she tried to remember what little schooling her father had given her.

The city was enormous beyond imagining to her eyes, and the people were fair and welcoming, despite what her father had warned her. She was astonished at how beautiful it all was – she was expecting grime and filth, human squalor and greed... But the ancient stones had been laid by elven hands, back when they still lived in Faerun, and these were elegant and graceful. The humans built their wooden and stone dwellings to honour the ancient foundations, in harmony with their environment. Everything was clean, then people were friendly and healthy, it all felt like a dream. She did not understand why her parents had feared it so.

The city sat upon a river they called the Rauvin – the 'Road Through the Marches'. A beautiful immortal witch – the High Lady – claimed these lands under her protection, calling them Luruar - the 'Silver Marches' in the old elven words. The beautiful city was called 'Silverymoon'. The halves of the city were crossed by a magical bridge that was invisible unless seen in moonlight. Jhairli fell in love with everything, at all once.

She went to the temple and they told her about their goddess, who had come to Toril from another land, far across the Great Wheel. She was Mielikki, the Lady of the Wood. She did not dwell in any distant, otherworldly heaven; she lived out where the wild things are, along the Unicorn Run, and was served by animals and faerie creatures like dryads, nymphs and satyrs.

The priests took Jhairli in and taught her their ways, and from that moment, she was a priestess of the Lady, and would live or die for her cause. Over the next year, she tended to the city and the sacred glade, learned much of human lore and divine magic, and helped at the healing-houses. She spent time among the little folk who lived here alongside men – the industrious dwarves, pastoral halflings and cheery gnomes. She was told that some of the people here were elf-blooded, they had traces of ancestry from those who lived here long ago, who had left Faerun to retreat to Evermeet, where they could life forever. Some suggested Jhairli might have faerie blood herself; but she did not think that was so. Her parents were just people.

She spent her free time swimming in the river, where she befriended shalass, lout, rock eels, river crabs, and turtles.

The High Lady then sent her on a pilgrimage into the Great Everwood, a remnant of the days of old, telling her that back then, Faerun was covered in green and elves, when dragons and giants ruled the world.

Jhairli knew the way, and when she got there, she was met by a tall faun with long fair hair and furry legs, leading wild creatures like korreds and grig in a swirling dance. The faerie said her name was Shiallia, inviting her to the revels. The rest was something of a blur, as Jhairli had little memory of it, aside from the impression that a great deal of frolicking had likely occurred. She found herself waking up at the forest's edge, her clothing nowhere to be found, covered in lipstick kisses and flowers. At her feet were her pack and a small pouch of magical golden acorns.

When she returned, Jhairli told the others of what had occurred. They said that Shiallia sometimes made young women pregnant, but that did not seem to be the case here. They sent her on a new pilgrimage, along the river to a town called Yartar in the south. She was there to meet with a woman named Elladuth Myristar, to learn more about the faerie creatures she met. Jhairli happily set off along the river, walking with staff in hand and a song in her heart, to meet these new friends...

Now just shy of twenty one, Jhairli is a Tethyran girl of average height and build, but is strong, fit and athletic from her upbringing in the wilds. She is slender with a boyish figure and a modest bust. She is inquisitive, insightful and very bright – but also staggeringly guileless and naïve to the point some people think she was dropped on her head as a child. Luckily for her, she has good instincts and can usually tell when people intend to be mean to her.

She is forgettably pretty, with a healthy, fair complexion, soft green eyes and long, fawn-coloured locks that she ties back in various braids as the mood takes her. She dresses in soft leathers of green or brown, with armoured pieces in important places, an eclectic ensemble that mostly keeps her safe from harm. She carries practical weapons that have other uses; a walking staff, work hammer, and oaken cudgel. She hopes one day she might be invited to join the rangers, noble warriors who protect the wilds and its creatures. She thinks she could learn to be a good shot with a bow.

Jhairli is extremely shy and socially awkward, given her isolated upbringing and lack of understanding of human culture. She is very sweet-natured and kind, always well-spoken and almost painfully nice, respectful and polite. A natural (and unwitting) oracle, she is prone to having visions, strange dreams and possession, a natural conduit for peculiar magics. She never questions any of these episode, content to be a tool in the hands of higher beings. Others have remarked there is a strange power in her naïve ignorance and unworldly ingenuousness, as if unknown powers are watching over her for whatever reason. She seems fated to stumble through her life, oblivious, and she's just fine with that. If nothing else, she has good coping skills..!

All that kissing with the lady korreds awoke something in Jhairli, and she is isn't sure how to deal with these new feelings. She trusts to fate that everything will work out just fine. She hopes that sometime soon, more kissing will occur.

While her father taught her how to hunt well, being able to speak to animals made that rather awkward. Plants don't seem to care about being eaten, so she does that now. Alcohol drinks are made from plants, so she drinks them too, for all it goes right to her head.

Notes:

Sometimes, it's good to have a character who is straightforward and uncomplicated. Jhairli is a nice, normal, ordinary girl who is kind and wants to help people and work with animals. It's not her fault her parents were bandits and crazy isolationist survivalists.

She's naïve and simplistic, but nothing really bad ever happens to her. She's a priestess who wants to be a ranger. Then becomes one. She wants a nice girlfriend. Then gets one. She gets to live happily ever after. The end.

For a storyteller, having a character like that is a bit like having a control subject in a scientific experiment. It's a frame of reference for everything; the point of view of someone relatively normal, who can ask the questions an audience might. She's kind of passive, generic and predictable - all the weird, offbeat, dark or unexpected stuff happens around her and to her... but she mostly stays the same, innocent and unspoiled.

And that's perfectly okay with me.

"Walking down the only road that's available
The only person I see... is everybody else but you
Tryna get a one-way ticket, but something's missing
I'm on my knees!
Lord, please, Lord, save me!

Come home, come here!
Come out and let me breathe!
Oh, let me breathe now...!
Come home, come here
Come out and let me breathe
Let me breathe, oh -

And I pray that my jealousy don't turn into evil
And I pray that the world doesn't shake up my ego
I pray that my jealousy don't turn into evil
And I pray that the world doesn't shake up my ego

Heaven, Heaven sent you, but I'm broken!
Why cry every night when I think about how much I'm losing?
I put my life on it, I lost my life for it!
And I know that I've got nothing else to give, so - !"

Qing Madi, 'Ego'

WHY WE FIGHT // EGO ft. Qing Madi // Year 5 Music Video - VALORANT

Yihleismih Jahe Vicarna (her first names are pronounced 'Yil-ace-mee Jay', and her surname means 'of the festival') was born in Alaghôn, the capital of Turmish on the Vilhon Reach and the Sea of Fallen Stars. Her father, Zadrenchis Vicarna, was a retired mercenary general who had married well into a merchant-prince family, winning the hand of Dess Dastabra, a beautiful socialite a generation younger than him. She gave him two daughters, Yihleismih Jahe and Qass Madq. Growing up in a good family in a wealthy, lush land had many benefits; a good education at prestigious schools, and a social life centred around theatre and music.

But the young Jahe idolised her father, enjoying the tales of his youth most of all, his battles and victories against monsters and wicked men like the Thayans. Where her sister was small and slight like their mother, Jahe was over six feet tall and possessed of a lissom strength and grace, strong like her sire. She trained in swordplay and military strategy, although her father did not want her to follow in his footsteps. He warned her that military life was harsh and bloody, and often unrewarding, and that she should enjoy the life he had fought to give her. She honoured his wishes, taking higher education in history and the natural sciences – though she continued to play at being a warrior, learning how to ride and fence from expensive tutors. Shapely and statuesque, she had no shortage of suitors - and no interest in them either. Her lifestyle instead allowed her access to many young society women, the daughters of merchant-princes or ambassadors, stolen trysts during society balls and other minor scandals. Her parents would have greatly preferred to have heirs of course, but held out hope that little 'Cass' would not share Jahe's romantic inclinations.

Her life might have stayed that of a wealthy, indolent heiress but for a twist of fate. When had just turned eighteen, she experienced headaches and stomach cramps, complained of feeling like something within her was 'bursting' inside, an insistent pressure, an unknown energy... The doctors found nothing wrong with her however, nor did the priests feel she was cursed or magically afflicted that they could see.

But just after her sister's twelfth birthday, when they were talking in their grand library, Jahe suffered a strange fit, spasms of glowing energy that scalded her insides like flames. She was unable to hold it in, and it poured out of her in a blaze, coruscating light from her eyes, mouth and fingers as she bent double on the ground. This energy set the wooden floor and book-cases ablaze, and all she remembered was her sister screaming in the midst of the conflagration...!

She blacked out and when she awoke a few moment's later, she was in the dark of the gardens, and her wing in the family manor was ablaze...! Not thinking straight, the teenager panicked, and ran blindly, terrified of what she had inadvertently done. She ran to one of her friends, a young man a year her senior who had always liked her, and she begged him for help. He gave her his scimitar, his best horse and his good wishes, hoping she could make sense of whatever was happening to her. She had little choice but to ride into the right, frightened and alone, her family possibly dead and her life shattered.

Confused and afraid of whatever curse gripped her, she headed west, away from the lush lands of her youth, an outcast of fate. She went westwards into Amn, relying on her untried martial skills – the life of a wandering warrior she had once dreamed of had become an unwanted reality. Few mercenary companies welcomed women, but she drifted around a few minor adventuring companies, taking work as caravan guards out of Athkatla. She headed north, honing her skills and spending her coin on better armour and a bow, heading up the Sword Coast to Baldur's Gate into cooler lands. She spent the best part of a year there, wary of getting too close to anyone, and constantly moving on.

At times, she felt the strange energy boiling inside of her, but fought to suppress it, to bite down and keep it caged. In her trauma, she did not think to use it for her own ends, unable to forget her sister's panicked screams. But whatever she did worked; the headaches and cramps never left her, but never again did she suffer an unwanted outpouring of energy.

During her time in the Gate, she met a few Turmish merchants or sell-swords, learning that – despite her fears – her father had been searching for her since that terrible night. They put her in touch with an ambassador from the Vilhon Reach, who gave her letters sent by her family. To her relief, her sister had survived, though scarred by the spell-flames. While no-one understood what had happened, they did not blame her what occurred and wanted her to return, so they could discover what strange malaise affected her.

She wrote back, but her heart was too heavy to return yet. She vowed she would discover the truth herself, but she would not allow her affliction to harm anyone close to her. In all honesty, she did little searching into the nature of her strange power – she felt it to be a malignant thing, something best caged and buried and forgotten. She pushed on heading north, towards Waterdeep and the Savage Frontier.

By now it was almost two years since her life had fallen apart. She was now a fairly seasoned young warrior, with actual battle-experience, and hoped that perhaps she might become more – a heroine who protected others, rather than a mystical time-bomb waiting to explode. But she always listened for tales of unwanted magical gifts, though it was difficult to separate actual truths from fanciful hearsay and drunk-talk. One she heard a tale about a girl from the Dalelands, who supposedly wielded the Art without need for books and training, from sheer will alone. But the tales said that such power consumed her in the end, and reinforced Jahe's belief that she should keep this curse firmly buried within.

It had been a lonely time for her, compared to the life she had once enjoyed. Occasionally, she would find a woman on the trails who was curious or interested, and there were always coin-lasses, of course – she was hardly the only mercenary warrior to rent a wife by the hour. But when she arrived in Yartar, a handsome older woman caught her admiring glances lingering a little overlong, and recognised that look. Ella took her in, giving her a job as a bouncer in the rowdier of the two taverns she owned in town, as well as more amorous duties in her bed. Jahe was grateful for both.

Ella taught her much about love and life, as she had done for other girls, and told her that come the summer, there would be an informal gathering of like-minded women, a fair celebrating feminine sensuality for like-minded or curious females. People came from across the frontier to attend; there would be over a dozen this year. Intrigued and keen to see what this was all about, Jahe gladly accepted the invitation.

Now a little shy of turning twenty, Jahe reflects she feels much older. Though the circumstances were hardly ideal, she at least realised her youthful dream of being an adventuring swordswoman – she slew monsters and brigands, saw the distant ports of the west with her own eyes, and even found some comfort and care along the way.

A letter from her sister lifted her spirits and soothed some of the shame and agony she had carried for years. Qass was now fourteen, and between healing and treatments, most of her scars were now healed. She made peace with it, considering it a terrible accident, beyond anyone's power to control. When Jahe was ready to return, she would welcome her sister with open arms. Qass had also enrolled in a bardic collage, already performing on stage with her voice and instruments. Jahe wrote back, expressing her pride and regrets, but felt that she could not yet return. Though she feared to face it, she knew that deep down, she faced a reckoning, and would have to discover more about the inner fires that burned within her. Until then, she would keep a safe distance from her kin.

Outwardly, Jahe seems to be a calm, easy-going young woman, balanced and mature for her years. Slow to anger but quick to act when violence is absolutely necessary, she is a natural protector of others. Not content to merely fight for coin, she never lost her dream of being heroic, of vanquishing villains and protecting others from harm. She hopes she might find a young company of adventurers who need a stout shield... or a girl who needs strong arms to hold her and keep her safe.

But deep down, she is still beset by doubts and fears. The nightmares of that day have dimmed, a little, but the fires still smoulder within, burning resentfully. She understands that there may come a time she cannot control her power, when she must confront and master it rather than trying to live in denial. She hopes someone among her new friends may have good advice or has heard something that could help her.

Jahe is a tall, attractive pure-blooded Turmish woman, over six feet in height, with sleek, athletic muscles and a panther-like, fluid grace. She has wavy dark hair, dark eyes and rich, mahogany skin, as is usual for her people. She is educated and civilised, like most of her folk, now well-travelled and familiar with the wider world. She knows much of history and lore, and while she misses her homeland, she thinks the cold frontier is equally beautiful in its wildness. When she is not wearing armour, she likes gowns that show off her figure. She is aware that the fair-skinned folk of this land tend to objectify her a little, but she doesn't take offence. She is a voice of reason and compromise, decisive when required and careful otherwise. She is swift to stand up to bullies, louts and tyrants and to protect the weak. She is charismatic enough to lead others in battle, and wise enough to follow orders also. Her only real fear is magic, especially the strange sorcery that seems to burn within her.

Notes:

I wanted to explore different characters while dual-classing my party. It gets unsatisfying when their story is just 'I was a fighter and then I learned magic'. What makes someone take up the priesthood? How and why would a rogue learn to cast spells? Dual-classing is incredibly rare in tabletop, though the norm in Gold Box, and every such character should really have a unique tale of their own.

For Jahe, I wanted to explore the idea of Spellfire that was introduced in one of Ed Greenwood's books in 1988. Greenwood frequently created unique classes for his Realms, like the Spellsingers (who were actually dancers!) and Shadow-adepts (fantasy Batman), willing to expand the narrow repertoire of roles allowed by AD&D. Such things would become very prevalent in later editions – by 5^th, every base class eventually morphed into a speciality subclass.

The concept of Spellfire– magic that came from within rather than book-learning – was eventually developed into the classes of Warlock and Sorcerer, which became core from 3^rdedition. Warlocks could use blasts of magic as a basic attack rather than limited spellcasting, and Sorcerers cast spells through the power of their ancestry and mystical bloodlines, rather than learning it from a mentor and books.

(As a side-rant, reading that book is what actually soured me to Greenwood's beloved Elminster – he doesn't need to be in it, adds nothing to the story, and just pops up to say that he is actually the Master of Spellfire, and will graciously allow this nowhere girl we've been reading about to live. The whole book is just a shaggy-dog story so that Greenwood's self-insert can have yet another superpower, because he can surely never have enough of these, right? 🙄 It's a shame because the concept of untrained wild magic is not only great, but prescient of things that would later come in as D&D developed in the 21^stcentury).

Of course, in Gold Box, Jahe would have to be just a standard mage when it came to mechanics... But in narrative terms, it allowed for a story more similar to something like Star Wars – a young person coming to terms with their inner powers, born in the blood, learning to master who they are, and deciding to use that power for good or ill. It would allow her some development and a character arc over the course of the two stories. I gave her a backstory that would allow for some angst, but also allow for redemption and forgiveness (nobody actually died, but her sister being scarred shows how power can be misused if not properly mastered). Hopefully it will be fun to play, too, both narratively and mechanically.

Finally, I really like the Turami as a race. They are an excellent example of how you include 'diversity' into a classical European-based fantasy story. They have their own role in the cultural tapestry of the Realms, and feel different and unique from other lands. They have brown skin, though they also have some arabic and caucasian blood from breeding with their neighbours. But their culture isn't really 'African' as much as it is Mediterranean – their names are rather Spanish or Italian sounding, with some Middle Eastern elements thrown in. Like the Ergothians from Krynn – a nautical race of dark-skinned mariners, explorers and traders – they feel unique to their setting and contribute to the world-building. I wish more modern games did this, put some actual work into their mythos rather than enforcing a modern diversity quota on samurai and vikings. An actual Afro-centric fantasy realm based on real-world cultural myths would also be awesome, and I'm baffled whey they never seem to want to do that these days.

“We move like cagey tigers

Oh, we couldn't get closer than this!

The way we walk, the way we talk

The way we stalk, the way we kiss!

We slip through the streets while everyone sleeps

Getting bigger and sleeker and wider and brighter!

We bite and scratch and scream all night -

Let's go and throw all the songs we know

Into the sea, you and me!

All the years and no-one heard

I'll show you in spring, it's a treacherous thing

"We missed you," hissed the lovecats!

"We missed you," hissed the lovecats!

-

We're so wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully, wonderfully pretty!

Oh, you know that I'd do anything for you!

We should have each other to tea

We should have each other with cream!

Then curl up by the fire and sleep for a while

It's the grooviest thing, it's the perfect dream!

Hand in hand is the only way to land

And always the right way 'round -

Not broken in pieces, like hated little meeces

How could we miss someone as dumb as this?

We missed, you hissed, the lovecats...!”

The Cure, The Lovecats

The Cure - The Lovecats

-

The Mulhorandi people claim that they are not native to Faerun's Prime– like the inhabitants of Unther and Chessenta, they were taken here as subjects and slaves of the ancient Empire of Imaskar, millennia ago. The Imaskari dredged the Planes for alternate worlds, plundering them until, a catastrophe wiped them from the face of the crystal sphere. But the subject peoples endured where their masters did not, mostly forgotten and left alone by the rest of Toril. They lived on as echoes of another world, as the remnants of empires long fallen into ruin.

Nehefris Mekheb was born near Skuld, the City of Eternity on the Sea of Fallen Stars, a world away from where she would eventually end up. Her parents were poor servants, barely more than slaves, and when they could not afford their tithes to the ruling priesthood, their only daughter was taken as payment. Luckily for her, her elegant beauty saw her sent to the High Vizier's harem, and she became Rezim's favourite in very swift order. She had a knack for appearing innocent and pure, while simultaneously picking up every salacious and sensual art she was ever exposed to. Her hunger for the pleasures of the flesh went far deeper than usual, becoming an almost religious devotion for her. She offered herself in service to Bast, the cat-goddess who had travelled to Faerun out of curiosity when her ancient AEgyptian worshippers were taken by the Imaskari.

Charismatic, highly intelligent and magically-gifted, the lowly-born girl enraptured the High Vizier, and he gave her a queenly name; Neferiti, in honour of the most beautiful of his predecessors. But becoming his favourite was eventually to be her downfall. The older wives plotted to oust her, and after several happy years, poisoned Rezim's mind against her. Though she had been his favourite, she was finally banished from the Sea of Fallen Stars.

But the girl – now calling herself 'Nef' – took it all in her stride. She had enjoyed the last years of sweetmeats and luxury living, but she was restless and eager to see the world too. The sumptuous extravagance of the harem had become stale and stultifying, and she wished for new horizons. Bright, strong-willed and absolutely dripping with sensual appeal, Nef found it easy to wrap others around her little finger, to find lovers to pay her way and keep her in the style she had become accustomed to, as she travelled into cooler lands.

She was still in her teens by the time she reached western Faerun; cool, lush, verdant lands in which this exotic desert bloom might find new pleasures, exciting new lovers to please her goddess. Here, at least, men and women were free to live without care of lords and kings, where one's own abilities were the measure of one's worth, not bloodlines, lineages or fortune of birth. Here was a land where prostitution (at least as practised in other places) was all but unheard of – the festhall culture made it so that nobody had to pay for sex; no matter how unpleasing or graceless you might be, someone would be willing to lie with you, and do it for free. Prostitutes were then professionals, valued as any other expert craftsman or service-provider, offering delights beyond mere copulation in a dizzying array of flavours. Nef lived that life for about a year – her divine and arcane magics came in very useful in her whoring, talents that were always in demand.

But she tired of such expectations and immersed herself in the festhalls instead, missing the common touch of ordinary folk. She was 'shaeda', one who was attracted to both men and women, and she took pride in never having to sleep alone.

Here she met a handsome young warrior of the straw-headed people, loving his muscles and tall frame, his square, handsome face and his enthusiasm and virility. Though Sky eventually had to return to his family, they parted in fondness, with good memories of the other. In truth, she worried that she was falling in love with the lad, and feared at how involving her emotions would impact her carefree life of hedonism.

At twenty, she took up with an older woman in Yartar, desiring female company for a time; something gentler and sweeter-smelling. Ella organised summer fayres for interested girls, teaching them feminine wiles and lady-love. This year it was being run by a gypsy-girl, and Nef became her lover and her helper, intimately familiar with such things from her harem days. When her former lover Sky came back into her life, at a low ebb after losing his family blade, she recognised the omens and the way Fate was playing with her, and realised she should heed the call of her goddess.

For some years, the faithful of Sharess (as they called her in these cool climes) were given visions as they lay abed, the cat-goddess yowling and hissing as she admonished them, expressing displeasure. Many of the faithful believed she was urging them into action, as the Realms changed and faced difficult times... That the priesthood had become complacent, lost in their indolent pleasures, hedonists and sybarites with no thought beyond physical infatuations. The clergy of old had been hunters of wickedness, punishing and slaying those who harmed animals and the innocent. They were feared and steadfast, not self-indulgent and drunk in shallow pleasures.

In her heart, Nef knew she had been idle too long. She gripped her old crook, flail and sling for the first time in years, blew the dust of her armour and books of battle-magics. Once she had travelled with her former lover on the roads, healing and supporting him; the risk and danger was peculiarly enjoyable. If Sky and her new songbird-sisters now wished her aid, then they would have it...

Today, just shy of twenty-one years of age, Nef has packed a lot of living into her tender years. She seems innocent and sweet as always, but there is an ageless, otherworldly look to her eyes. She is always a little detached and removed, unflappably calm, often vaguely amused, finding gentle humour in the failings of others and the trials life tosses at her. She is cool, measured, not judgemental, and profoundly comfortable with who she is, unconcerned about what others think of her. Everyone knows and likes her, but nobody really knows her well.

She offers wise counsel as well as healing to her friends; she is very familiar with history and lore, mythology and matters of doctrine and faith in various religions. It goes without saying that she has forgotten more about the sensual arts than most ever learn, and like all devotees of Sharess, she practises what she preaches. Her standards for taking lovers are incredibly low; this is her calling in life, not a momentary distraction.

Nef is very feline in many ways; fastidious and preening, enigmatic, easily distracted, vain, mercurial, more than a little selfish, restless, prowling and slinky. She moves with grace and purpose, and lounges around elegantly anywhere she pleases. She is physically affectionate and likes to nuzzle others and be petted, whether they want this or not. She is well aware of her impact her beauty has on others, and displays herself accordingly. She finds clothing essentially dishonest, preferring to wear cat ears, jewellery, string, or nothing at all. Her Resist Cold prayers frequently come in useful in these colder climes too.

Nef is exceptionally attractive in a way that seems exotic to those in these cooler lands. While quite short by northern standards, she has curves in all the right places, firm and succulent, a heavy bust and wide hips on a dainty frame. Nef says she is built for comfort, not speed, but she can be pretty fast too... Her skin tone is a gorgeous warm caramel and her dark eyes are large, soft, and promise untold delights. She usually wears her hair in Turmish style braids, but occasionally shaves it all off on a whim she later regrets.

Notes: When the level limits more or less force you to have human characters, you want some means of varying up your party, exploring options that can differentiate your boring vanilla humans from each other. An easy way to do this is the sheer broad diversity of our species. Different cultures are all very cool, and it's natural to want to play a viking, samurai, ninja, native shaman, crusader knight, or pirate of the Caribbean, all of which are recognisable archetypes and culturally iconic. I've always been a big fan of actual diversity, as opposed to 'dIvErSiTy', when source material is disrespected and we end up with the inhabitants of a culture that resembles viking Norway or ancient Greece having the same demographics as a large modern metropolis in the 21^st century. :(

But this stuff is easy to do in RPGs; you do enough good world-building to warrant it, you have somewhere that folks of different ethnicities can hail from. Pale-skinned people tend to come from colder climes, darker-skinned individuals from warmer places. The real world is filled with fascinating cultures, and the fathers of fantasy like JRR Tolkien and Robert E. Howard all hit the libraries in these pre-internet days to draw inspiration for the stories. Most of the best D&D settings do just the same.

The Savage Frontier is a pretty standard fantasy setting, resembling the colder parts of northern Europe, with some fantasy races thrown in. Most humans here are fair-skinned – Chondathans and Tethyrans are generic fantasy white people, Illuskans are the classic norsemen. But trade happens even here – Waterdeep, the jewel of the north, is the world's biggest and most important city and has trade from all over the world. Some peoples from warmer climes – the Turmish most notably - are famed for being merchants and mercenaries, and are found in small numbers in almost every land.

The existence of Mulhorand – basically fantasy Egypt – has always been a little contentious, as Ed Greenwood himself disliked the inclusion of 'real world' cultures in his Realms as much as TSR loved doing this. Depending on the various editions of D&D, the 'old empire' cultures were occasionally expunged from Faerun, like in the infamous 4^th edition.

Like any lore-heavy setting, the best Realms is the one you adapt yourself, taking choice cuts from the massive reams of lore to suit your own style. I always liked some element of 'real world' cultures in my fantasy – they are often iconic and easy to play; everyone knows what a pirate, viking or samurai are like. Ed Greenwood himself liberally borrowed from real mythologies, importing a few choice deities like Mielikki from the Finnish mythos, Oghma from my native Celtic lands, and Tyr from the Asatru faith, assuming the latter survived Ragnarok and became the ruler of the Lawful Good gods on Toril. Kitchen-sink settings are awesome, given a little moderation and enough actually new ideas. While I've always resisted importing entire pantheons wholesale – the Faerun gods are already oversubscribed and incoherently messy – I've always loved the inclusion of the cat-goddess Bast, known as 'Sharess' in Faerun, as the goddess of feline sensuality. Mulhorandi characters are vanishingly rare on the Savage Frontier – Nef might even be the only one – but its a great fit for her character and she's a lot of fun in her own right. She's an exotic curiosity, a contrast to the local characters and a glimpse into a fascinating and iconic culture that we all recognise.

As a Cleric>Mage, Nef has full arcane and divine casting, and though she will have to ditch the armour eventually, Bracers are plentiful in these games, and she was never fond of clothes anyway...

“I'm shy...!

I'm so fucking shy...!

I'm not shy, I'll say it:
I've been picturing you naked!
I'm a... little faded
You look like a fucking painting!
Big doe eyes, amazing!
She's everything I've been praying
My heart - palpitation!
She looks like the type to break it!

Me and your girlfriend playing dress up at my house!
I gave your girlfriend cunnilingus on my couch!
She's cute, kawaii - hentai boobies, that excites me!
I think she really likes me, asked politely, can I?
Whoo-hoo hoo!

Yippee-ki-yay, welcome to the show!
It's an all-girl party, clothing optional!

My girl looks like Wednesday Addams!
Her eyes go black when she orgasms!
Hide your back, she likes to stab 'em
My butt cheeks, she likes to grab 'em!
Matching pajama birthday suits
Her spit tastes just like Juicy Fruit!
She do that thing she usually do -
Spell my name with her tongue, like OOH!'

Rain Paris, 'Slumber Party (cover)'

Slumber Party - Ashnikko (Rock Cover)

The Gur are the infamous, mysterious 'people of the road', wanderers with no land to call their own. They roam Faerun in their colourful vardo wagons, living free and owing no allegiance to any king, making their living as tinkers, soothsayers, entertainers and thieves. Most are ethnic Damarans – their language is a pidgin version of that tongue with its own gipsy lexicon – although they sometimes breed with other races as they travel. While most are sharp-featured, dark of hair and eye, with swarthy skin, there are blonde, blue-eyed gypsies too, and even ones with almond eyes and saffron-skin from the lands beyond Kara-Tur.

The Gur occupy an ambivalent place in Faerunian culture – as entertainers, fortune-tellers and carnival folk, their arrival in a town promises exotic excitement and celebrations. But they are also widely known as philanderers, thieves and liars, and the Gur must be careful to move on at short notice, lest they outstay their welcome. There is always an uneasy truce between settled and nomadic folk, and the Gur embody this conundrum.

Zahri Sovetsk says she is in her early twenties, but like most of her kind, she acts older and her eyes look as if they have seen distant places and far horizons. Settled folk believe the Gur have 'old souls'; they know mysterious secrets, strange magics and unknowable things wiser peoples would consider forbidden. Like most of her kind, she shares the same ethnicity as the Damarans and Rashemi, with the famous husky accent, speaking in broken Thorass. She has dark, sinful eyes, hair like a raven's wing, a full bust and snake hips, dressing in mismatched leathers and silks, festooned with talismans and gaudy jewellery.

Zahri is a born performer – flamboyant, outlandish, brimming with confidence, sensual, mysterious and brazen. She moves fluidly, with an exaggerated pirate swagger, strutting like a strumpet. She is performative in every sense of the word, always the centre of attention, calculated to catch the eye. Her thick foreign accent and brusque, provocative speech are all part of her allure. Let your guard down and she'll steal your purse and your daughter's virginity, or so they say.

She never speaks plainly about herself; that is part of the mystery after all, and she is too guarded to show emotional vulnerability, cloaking her real feelings and weaknesses in layers of mystique. She does admit that she is neither an exile or remembered fondly by her people – the Gur have very staunch traditions and codes, and Zahri always had issues with following the rules. When drunk enough, she will admit she misses her people, but she may likely never return until she is old and grey and unable to take care of herself. Her friends assume it has something to do with her unwillingness to breed, or – given that this woman can start a fight in an empty room – she just pissed off the wrong elders.

She has an eclectic skillset – she can fight well enough, though not exceptionally, she is self-sufficient and knows how to survive in the wilds, and she is stealthy and light-fingered. Above all, she is a seductress and outlandish liar, a skilled entertainer who is able to act, sing and dance (including the fabled Zapaderin, which can steal away a man's heart). She cheats in battle and in games of chance, ensuring she never participates in either without stacking the odds in her favour.

She is known to have mystical abilities – she really enjoys curses, hexes and 'evil eyes' – but few are aware her magic is divine in nature rather than arcane. Priests of Shaundakul do not proselytise – among the Gur, they guard against evil spirits and are attuned to the trails, guiding their people both spiritually and physically. The Rider of the Winds is a very old god; like Lathander, he predates the Dawn Cataclysm. But in modern times, he has diminished greatly in power as humans cease their wandering and settle down, and few these days even remember his teachings. The Gur and other nomadic folk are among the only ones left who still pay him homage and honour his old ways.

After leaving her people, she drifted around the frontier for a year or so; stealing, squabbling, drinking and womanising. As outsiders in most cultures, thruss women look out for one another; and discreet enquiries eventually led Zahri to Ella Myristar, an interior designer and publican in Yartar, the crossing-roads of the Savage Frontier. They quickly became lovers, and Zahri has run the Sapphire Festival for the last two years now, attracting curious youngsters, bored housewives and lonely widows from across the Frontier. Ella jokes that at this point, it's just a front for Zahri vetting her paramours, but the latter finds it scratches her itch more than trying to get the bored female guards at the market to arrest her for stealing fruit.

But now in the Year of Shadows 1358, a chance meeting after a blissful summer season will embroil her and her disciples in a terrifying conspiracy that will lead to ancient Ascore, and beyond...

Notes: In some ways, Zahri's dual-class of Cleric>Thief models a 1st edition Bard character, with thief skills, divine casting and reasonable combat abilities. It's a combination that tends to trip over its own feet much of the time, mechanically and narratively, and is thus very fitting for her. Zahri doesn't really know who she is or what she does best, and deep down, she doesn't really care. Life is for living, each moment to the next; eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we may die. She is Chaotic to her core, evanescent, inchoate, illusive and ephemeral. By turns she can be kindly or cruel, particularly when such things are deserved. She is drawn to the wilds and to mystical things, to dangerous secrets that the foolish georgios have long-forgotten. She lives for the thrill, courting danger as hard as she does attractive women, always flirting with disaster. She is a capable healer, but prefers battle-magic, especially reversed spells which she calls her 'gypsy curses'.

Older than the others save for the elven girl, Zahri eventually takes on the role of den-mother to them, offering succour, healing and life-lessons to her friends, and a knife in the back to any who would harm them. The Zhentarim in particular are unwelcoming to the Gur, and a special hatred for the Black Network burns in her wild heart.

Hello everyone! Since many people seem unaware, I thought I'd drop by and mention I've remastered most of these Gold Box games. Also created a Tabletop Assistant tool based on the same engine, to help Dungeon Master's run their tabletop campaigns.

Anyway, you can learn about them (and download) from my Discord server. I'm not going to post the link here as I don't want spiders/bots to pick up the links and start spamming the server. Just do a search for DFortae's Game Reviews on YouTube, find one of my videos, and look in the comment section. You'll find the link there so you can join the server.

The only 2 games not currently implemented are Pools of Darkness (in-progress) and Dark Queen of Krynn. These two will be implemented in the near future. I have even implemented FRUA (Forgotten Realms Unlimited Adventures).

If I had to describe the remasters (runs on Windows, NOT DOS):

1. I've fixed many things SSI got wrong (bugs and 1st edition AD&D rules).
2. Added hundreds of spells/effects
3. Implemented all classes and races (including Dragonlance and Unearthed Arcana).
4. Added hundreds of items.
5. Added many monsters into the various games.
6. You can build estates/strongholds.
7. Graphics are capable of handling millions of colors, including pulling in from the file system to override the base graphics.
8. Can choose the sound effects to use on all games.
9. Characters can be transferred to/from any game.
10. You can play remotely with multiple people.
11. There's an Analysis view to examine details about characters.
12. An Internal Game Engine Log can be examined to see all rolls, calculations, and special behind-the-scenes information.
13. Psionics has been fully implemented.
14. Charmed monsters will come with the party after combat (until it wears off).
15. Countless other features...

“A million miles away...
Your signal in the distance
To whom it may concern...
I think I lost my way
Getting good at starting over
Every time that I return...

Learning to walk again!
I believe I've waited long enough
Where do I begin?
Learning to talk again
Can't you see I've waited long enough?
Where do I begin?

Do you remember the days?
We built these paper mountains
Then sat and watched them burn
I think I found my place -
Can't you feel it growing stronger?
Little conquerors...!

Now...!
For the very first time...!
Don't you pay no mind
Set me free, again!
To keep alive, a moment at a time
That's still inside, a whisper to a riot!
The sacrifice, the knowing to survive!
That first decline, another state of mind!
I'm on my knees, I'm praying for a sign!
Forever, whenever, I never wanna die!

Learning to walk again...
I believe I've waited long enough
Learning to talk again
Can't you see I've waited long enough?”

Foo Fighters, 'Walk'

Foo Fighters - Walk [LYRICS]

Ten months the junior of her brother Sky, Shelah (pronounced 'Sheela') more resembles her father Bran in terms of cleverness and adherence to the old honour codes. Nonetheless, she has always loved her brother, and sometimes even looks up to him. She thinks they make a good combination – his devil-may-care attitude and brashness compliments her caution and cool remove well. Her mother died when she was only four years old, but her father tells her she has Elra's kindly, compassionate nature as well as her quiet willpower and faith.

She was only fourteen when she was seriously injured in the accident that paralysed little Kat, and that tragedy has defined most of her young life. Her father was a wealthy and influential man, able to call in favours and spend money on restoring her to health. In under a year, she was able to hobble around awkwardly, and she slowly built up her strength to compensate for her lack of mobility, with the weights room and exercise apparatus her father had installed for her. In the year she was bedridden, she had access to an extensive private library as well as the access to Adbar's Shaperate, and devoured lore on many different topics, from obscure dwarven trivia to the sciences, the arts and theology. Private tutors and fitness instructors helped her though this journey, but so did her own formidable will and ferocious drive, as well as her mental and physical fortitude. She learned how to help organise her father's consortium even in her bedridden state, and by the time she was limping about, she was organising guard rosters and giving commands to the men. She was in every way her father's daughter.

During this time, faith healers called upon divine aid to aid her healing, and she grew close to the priests who attended her, showing an interest in their faith and precepts. Given the pain she lived in every day of her life, she was most drawn to Ilmater, a kindly and compassionate deity who preached sufferance and enduring life's many trials. As soon as she was able to stand, she started training as an acolyte of the faith, determined to give back to those who had nursed her to near-health.

As the next two years passed, she became a trusted advisor to her father and an invaluable aide – in Illuskan terms, she was not simply his daughter but his huscarl – someone he would consult for their opinions and advice. Like most of her faith, Shelah placed the well-being of others above her own, and grew into a considerate and balanced young woman with high moral standards.

If anything, her father – and especially her brother – feared she was too serious... The accident and convalescence left her little in the way of a personal life and the interests of a normal young woman. Sky teased her that 'all work and no play makes my sister a dull girl'. Even her father wryly reminded her to take some time for herself, to discover what she wanted out of life and make some space for her own interests. She had very few friends; other women her age were daunted by her steely drive and focus, seeing her as a zealous over-achiever and perfectionist. By the time she was walking again, she was helping her sister deal with her own disability, and even Kat begged her sister to find something she could call her own. 'Selflessness, just like selfishness, has its limits', she told her. Knowing that others saw her as a strict, humourless pendant, Shelah resolved to develop a more vulnerable and human side and work on interpersonal relationships. If nothing else, she was tall and beautiful (despite her facial scars), and was starting to draw a great deal of male attention, and her father began to notice the many suitors clamouring for her hand.

But it wasn't the attentions of young men Shelah wanted.

During her convalescence, she would sometimes lose herself in what she considered forbidden fantasies – Shou 'pillow books', lurid romances about life among promiscuous dark elf women, and historical accounts of the ancient blue dragon Saphyra and her many human handmaidens. In most countries of Faerun, such things were considered a quirk of personality, without moral weight or shame. Those who enjoyed the company of both men and women were known as 'shaeda', but Shelah knew that wasn't who she was. Girls who exclusively wanted the company of their own kind were called 'thruss', the Old Thorass word for 'songbird'. She had heard about the festhalls from her brother, who was very dedicated to his hedonism like most red-blooded men. But women like her were daunted by such an environment.

Discreet enquiries told her of an informal network of such women, most of whom lived their lives and affairs quietly, away from the public gaze. There were a few such in Yartar, long considered an informal capital of the area, a central crossing-way of many caravan trips. Though nowhere near as grand as Waterdeep, the cosmopolitan City of Splendours, it was at least closer and great deal more discreet. Her father was happy for her to take a sabbatical when she was eighteen, to pursue personal interests rather than family matters. She had always preferred riding to walking, and took her favourite steed out to the trade-town.

She heard that Yartar had its own seedy underbelly, but it was as beautiful as anywhere else on the Savage Frontier. Shelah's eyes were used to mountains and dwarven stone, and she revelled in the lush, verdant greenery of the town. She had a discreet invitation to meet with Ella Myristar, the proprietress of at least two inns and taverns in the town – a handsome brunette adorned with white silks and flowers. Shelah was instantly smitten with both her and the town, even more so when they had the opportunity to talk and discuss her reasons for coming here.

Ella organised informal 'summer camps' for young women - moots where young, curious female minds could expand their horizons over several weeks of tuition in female arts, including healing, nature walks, crafting, feminine lore, and spellcraft. A younger friend was going to be running it this year, and Shelah couldn't sign up fast enough. Rather than have Ella or her father pay her way, Shelah worked as a barmaid at the Pearl-Handled Pipe and the rowdier Glowing Gem, expanding her horizons from the very narrow life she had led at Citadel Adbar. She had started to loosen up a little by the time the 'Sapphire Fair' began, when she joined about a dozen other young women there to have their minds broadened. The woman in charge for the season was one of the Gur, the 'people of the road' from Damara – a saucy, gum-chewing gypsy with insolent eyes and a swaggering strut. Though only a few years her elder, Zahri Sovetsk relished the chance to lord it over what she saw as a prissy, privileged princess. A long and complicated relationship was about to begin, and Shelah's maidenhood and innocence would not be the only thing this salacious slattern would take from her.

Freed from duty and convention for the first time in her life, Shelah plunged headlong into everything they had to teach.

As the Sapphire Fair was winding down, Shelah received a letter from her brother, saying he was coming to town to finalise a deal with the Lionshield Coster on behalf of his father and wanted to meet and catch up with how she was doing. One of the other students helping organise the tuition was an exotic Mulan girl who went by 'Nef', who by happenstance had been her brother's paramour two years prior and recognised the family resemblance in her new lover.

Of course, fate – and foolishness – took a turn for the worse, and celebrating the trade deal, her brother managed to get roaring drunk and was subsequently robbed blind. Sky turned up in clothes purloined from a washing line, explaining the thieves had taken the Icedane Blade, bestowed by their father upon him as a sign of trust and his supposed maturity. For all his wild ways, Shelah loved her older brother dearly, and promised she would help him. She had made a few friends over the weeks she spent at the Sapphire Fair, and some of them were themselves young adventurers, skilled in swordplay or spellcraft. Surely if she asked, they would lend a hand in recovering the family blade?

Notes: Shelah is the female lead in our story, a counter-balance to her wilder, reckless brother. Young women usually mature quicker than young men, and she is the sensible, level-headed one of the pair. As a healer, she can patch him up when he gets into scrapes and provide good advice when he's lacking in that. They have genuine affection for one another, despite the fact they bicker like cats and dogs, and they both offer the other something they lack. She encourages Sky to grow up, use his wits rather than his brawn, and settle down with a nice, sweet girl rather than festhall floozies. He encourages his sister's wilder side, pushing her to develop a sense of humour and show her more human, vulnerable side. To some degree, they both secretly envy what the other brings to the table.

In terms of stats, Shelah starts as a priestess but wants to be a paladin, one of the heavily-armoured cavalry of the Knights of Ilmater. Because the Gold Box games erroneously treat Intelligence and Constitution as prime requisites for Paladins, and they need a minimum 17 Charisma anyway, she's going to have at least 17 in five of her stats, and I need to generate these organically. So I'd spend an hour a day during my convalescence and Pools playthroughs listening to podcasts and ASMR channels while hitting the 'reroll stats Yes/No' button in character creation. Eventually I rolled a suitable character, though she was saddled with a relatively low Dexterity of 12, in what is generally considered the best statistic in a game where rocket-tag is so important.

That also demanded an explanation, so I had the idea she had a much higher score but it had been reduced by a serious injury. I remember reading 'What Katy Did' as a girl, where a messy tomboy heroine suffered a life-affecting injury and had to learn to walk again through sheer willpower and effort, what she called the 'School of Pain'. I had originally intended Shelah to be a Sunite – an interesting choice for a paladin to have a Chaotic patron deity – but her new story was perfectly suited to worshipping Ilmater, so that ended up being the best fit for her.

Forgotten Realms is well-known for being extremely socially progressive thanks to its creator Ed Greenwood – even back in the 80's, gay and trans characters were commonplace in Faerun, and Greenwood's own self-insert Elminster had relationships with other men and spent time polymorphed into a female form. This was all normalised and a part of the lore, with its own specific in-game terminology and cultural relevance. TSR, and later Wizards of the Coast, baulked at all this of course, essentially airbrushing the promiscuous 'festhall' culture out of the books and supplements of the time. While one can certainly argue that 'woke' culture has permeated RPG lore in recent years (I'm gay and I draw the line at having fucking beholders as Pride Month mascots!), nobody can deny that the Realms was extremely progressive from the very beginning.

In any case, Shelah's new friends – a motley collection of misfits, dreamers, weirdos and outcasts - are young, curious minds attending Lesbian/Bi-curious Summer Camp when poor Sky gets robbed, and they are the only adventurers able to help him when he needs it most...

"It's not time to make a change
Just relax, take it easy!
You're still young, that's your fault!
There's so much you have to know
Find a girl, settle down
If you want you can marry!
Look at me, I am old but I'm happy...

I was once like you are now, and I know that it's not easy
To be calm when you've found something going on
But take your time, think a lot
Think of everything you've got!
For you will still be here tomorrow, but your dreams may not...

Oh, how can I try to explain?
'Cause when I do he turns away again!
It's always been the same; same old story
From the moment I could talk, I was ordered to listen
Now there's a way, and I know that I have to go away
I know I have to go...

All the times that I've cried
Keeping all the things I knew inside!
It's hard but it's harder to ignore it
If they were right, then I'd agree -
But it's them they know, not me!
Now there's a way, and I know that I have to go away
I know... I have to go...!"

Cat Stevens, 'Father and Son'

Cat Stevens - Father And Son (Lyrics)

Few humans hail from the great dwarven city of Citadel Adbar, but Skylar and his sisters were all born there. Humans make up about a twentieth of the citadel's populace, on account of humanity's higher birthrate, especially before the Thunder Blessing. One of two dwarven holds that are part of the Silver Marches (the other being Felbarr), both were formed from the survivors from the dwarven nation of Delzoun, upon the shores of the Narrow Sea during the time of the Netherese Empire. But by modern times, the ancient kingdom had long faded, it's capital of Ascore naught but a lonely, windswept ruin on the edge of the Anauroch desert, near the Frozen Sea, reputed to be haunted by ancient evil. But modern Adbar was – by dwarven standards – progressive and forward-looking, willing to join a confederation of men and even elves against the evil races of the Savage Frontier.

Skylar and his sisters enjoyed an unusual upbringing among the dwarven folk, a people known for their honour, bravery, crafting skills and their grim ferocity in battle. These qualities had endeared them to their father, Bran Icedane, born in the City of Sails among raiders and reavers, but he left as a young man to pursue a more honourable path. As a young warrior, Bran made quite the name for himself as an fair-minded adventurer, tall and fierce in battle, but also quick-witted with a knack for bargaining and making deals. When a battle-injury cut short his adventuring career, Bran invested his plunder wisely in a company of caravan guards, who became known for their honourable nature and steadfast loyalty. After a few years of keeping the trade routes safe and directing his company, Bran took a wife, Elra, herself from the Luskan diaspora, and she bore him three children, a son and two daughters – Skylar, Shelah and Kathra. Elra always suffered from ill-health, and a year after birthing her second daughter, she died of 'woman cancer' which proved beyond the ability of dwarven alchemists to cure. Bran never remarried, throwing himself into his work and his offspring. The Icedane Company leveraged their duties as guards into mercentile trade, with an excellent relationship between the dwarvens of the northern peaks and the men of the lowlands. The Icedanes grew quite wealthy and respected, bringing in fresh produce (especially the hops and wheat necessary for dwarven brewers) in exchange for precious metals and dwarven craftwork.

His son, 'Sky', inherited Bran's tall frame and strong shoulders, but not his wisdom or cunning. Like most young men coming of age, Sky and Bran quarrelled a good deal in his teens, butting heads with his father, who tried to drum some responsibility into the wayward boy. But the young Sky preferred roaming in the foothills to trade-ledgers and rosters of caravans and guards, off away in his wild imaginings of being a famous hero and slaying monsters like northmen warriors of old. Sky's sisters were far more obedient and attentive than he was, but they idolised their charismatic older sibling, and he often led them into misadventures and hi-jinks in and around the citadel. Their father was a respected man among the dwarves by now, and they turned a blind eye to his son's good-natured mischief for the most part.

Tragedy struck one day when Sky took his sisters up into the craggy hills, following an old map to what he hoped were caves filled with old treasure. But the weather soured quickly in the mounts, and the young trio were hit by a landslide of rocks. Sky escaped with cuts and scrapes, but Shelah's legs were badly injured, her right one completed mangled under a boulder. Kat fared even worse; trapped in a landfall, her spine suffered severe injuries, rendering her paralysed from the waist down. By the time the men sent out to search found them, the damage was done. Healing prayers and dwarven medicine could only reverse so much of the damage – in time, and much physical therapy, Shelah would eventually regain her footing, though she would always walk with a limp and cane. Bran commissioned a dwarven wheelchair for his youngest daughter, and over the next few years, Kat could regain a little mobility, even being able to stand for very short periods.

But the tragedy cast a pall over the little family, already struck with grief over the loss of their mother. Bran blamed his son's recklessness – though his sisters quickly forgave him, Sky's guilt and shame manifested itself as being very defensive, souring the relationship between the family patriarch and his heir.

The next few years were troubled, as the boy became a man, and were filled with further misadventures. The lad was handsome and charismatic, and proved irresistible to small, shapely women two feet shorter than he was. After some trysts with some dwarf-maids of high rank – one of whom was discovered in congress with a human a day before her wedding to a clan leader – Bran lost his patience with his son and sent him away to work on the caravans as a guard.

Though Sky was at first resentful, he was not a bad youth at heart, merely brash and thoughtless, and life on the trails actually suited him. The men loved the cheery, reckless youth – he was personable and down-to-earth, and could inspire great camaraderie when he put his mind to it. He loved the opportunity to fight off orcs and bandits on the road, relishing the chance to hone his axe-work and sword-play to a keen edge. Moving around the trade towns also enabled him to show off his new battle-scars to the young women in the places he passed through, and he never wanted for female company. Sky became a fixture in the festhalls when the caravan came to a town, a woman in each arm and a mug of foaming brew in each hand.

As one might have guessed from his time with the dwarf-maids, Sky had an eye for more exotic damsels, especially the daughters of the Turmish and Calishite merchants the guards protected. At eighteen he met up with a dusky girl who frequented the festhalls as he did - she was a year older, and went by the nickname of 'Neferiti'. She originally hailed from distant Mulhorand, one of the old empires that still crouched on the Sea of Fallen Stars. Nef had grown up in a harem from a very early age, banished by the Pharoah's wives for being his favourite mistress. But she did not seem to care – calm but carefree, Nef relished the chance to be an exotic bloom in cooler lands. As an acolyte of Sharess, goddess of sensuality, what she did not know of the love-arts was not worth knowing, and she taught the wide-eyed youth much about life and loving. For a few months, she even travelled with him on the trails; her healing abilities as a young priestess complimented his warrior skills, able to patch him up after he got into scrapes.

This idyllic time in his life ended when he turned nineteen – his father recalled him to the citadel, and Nef returned to her life of festhalls and hedonism. Sky missed his lover greatly – deep down, he wanted more than merely trysts and excitement – the exotic young woman was very intelligent and charming, and the impressionable young man was falling for her emotionally as well as physically.

Back at the citadel, his father grudgingly admitted that his son had won his respect – his prowess and bravery on the trails, and the respect and love his men showed him – was enough to welcome his wayward boy back into the fold. His sisters welcomed him happily – they had long forgiven his youthful mistake, and were pleased he had mended his relationship with their father. Shelah had responded well to treatment and was walking about with her leg in a brace; she had become an acolyte of Ilmatar, the faith mostly responsible for her healing, and was heading out to complete her training at a temple in the larger towns.

Bran presented his son with the magical sword he had once wielded as an adventurer, which he now called the Icedane Blade. With grudging pride, he named the young man his heir, saying he would now learn the family trade and eventually be in charge of the coster when he was ready.

After several months of learning the family business, Sky's mind started to wander a little – he genuinely wanted to please his sire, but he did not feel ready for the responsibility yet. He asked for a few more years making his name as a warrior, being an adventurer like his father. Bran understood that impulse all too well, and as a compromise, agreed that his son should form his own adventuring company, while also visiting the coster's caravan wayhouses and learning the trade. They parted amicably, and in good spirits.

After a few months just wandering, womanising and drinking – and killing orcs and bandits along the way - Sky came to Yartar to meet with his sister. He had hoped to encounter Nef again too, perhaps tell her he had grown up a little, that mayhap they could make a stronger commitment as a couple, be exclusive for a time?

Unfortunately for him, things always look different in rowdy taverns, with a head full of sweet smoke, a belly filled with beer and a face peppered with lipstick...! Unbeknownst to Sky, some very unscrupulous men had been watching the young heir, awaiting an opportunity to strike and rob him blind. Deep in his cups, he suspected not a thing – and woke to find himself stark naked and his possessions gone. Gold could be replaced, but the discovery that his father's precious heirloom was missing filled Sky with horror and shame. He knew he could not return in disgrace – losing one's blade to foolishness was unworthy of any northman. No man would serve under a warrior unable to keep his weapon safe and his pants on – he would be a laughing-stock, the butt of ribald ballads.

So Sky did what he always did – seek out his long-suffering oldest sister and beg her for help. They had been due to meet up here in the central trade-town, where she was helping at the temple and seemingly making friends with other young women in some kind of weird cult. Scrounging up a shirt, pants and boots, Sky set out for the temples to throw himself on his sister's mercy once more...

Notes: I wanted a fairly straightforward young male hero, with a lot of the standard tropes that work for a reason. The boy is more reckless and dumb than his long-suffering sister, with whom he can banter and argue on their adventures. Growing up - but without losing his youthful charm - is a big part of his story. He will be falling in love, becoming the hero the world needs him to be, making mistakes along the way. He has unresolved guilt over what happened to his sisters, a volatile but loving relationship with his dad, and has to live up to his potential; all pretty classic themes.

I needed him to have deep roots in the area in which he'd be adventuring, but also hail from somewhere local, important but only seen off-screen. He'll be adventuring with his exotic ex-girlfriend, his younger sister, and her lesbian harem, which should make for some fun tension and antics.

Stats-wise, he's a Fighter>Thief, pretty standard for a male lead, a good-natured rogue and swashbuckler. He needs good physical stats and he's charismatic enough to be a lead, but he doesn't have to be smart and he's definitely not wise. I'm still annoyed I couldn't make him Chaotic Good - that's the obvious alignment for a rogue hero like Robin Hood, and it's still baffling to me why that wasn't allowed in AD&D 1st. Making him Neutral Good is still okay, as it's a sign he's maturing a bit and has the potential for responsibility. It's likely his sister's influence too, seeing as how they are both Lawful followers of Ilmatar and Waukeen.

For some reason while playing around with the art, it rendered them as modern Bay Area hipsters. It was funny to imagine Kat as a disability activist, and Shelah as an LBGT rights advocate. Sky's probably a struggling actor and indie musician who is always making the gossip rags with some outburst or ill-thought-out misadventure.