Mistledale is situated half way between Tilverton and Tilver’s Gap in Cormyr and Hillsfar on the southern coast of the Moon Sea. The Mistdale as it was once called is just outside the western periphery of the elven forest of Cormanthyr, and is dotted with small farms, thorpes, and towns.  The dale itself resembles a finger that stretches westward from the elven forest of Cormanthyr. Mistledale’s population of the dale evenly on both sides of the north and south running River Ashaba, along a road known as the Yeven Trail.

Ashabanford not only is the largest population center in all of Mistledale, and sits virtually in the center of the dale with all the major thoroughfares intersecting at that junction. Fording the Ashaba is a large span of rock and gravel across a wide portion of the river. This allows the Moon Sea Ride to intersect with not only the Abbey Road, but the Yeven Trail, and the Dark Road.  A mist wells up from the river at night, and covers the countryside. The mist disappears with the sun every morning. Eerie things have been known to occur with the mist during night.

Because of the position of the Moon Sea Ride, and it is intersection with the River Ashaba, supplies are shipped north by barge up the River Ashaba from the Dragon’s Reach, or transported by caravan from Cormyr and Sembia. The shipments are sent north east and west to all the surrounding dales and towns from Ashabanford. The Abbey Road is parallel to the Ashaba river, and is about five miles west of the city of Ashabanford linking the abbeys of the Golden Sheaf of Chauntea, and Oaken Grove of Silvanus.

Besides Ashabanford, Mistledale’s population of four thousand is scattered between four towns and the dale. North of Ashabanford is the city of Elven Crossing with a population of one hundred. Linking Ashabanford and Elven Crossing, on the Yeven Trail is Peldan’s Helm with a population of eighty. South of Ashabanford on the Dark Road is the town of Glen with a population of forty.

Ashabanford, with a population of four-hundred-fifty, sprawls eastward along the Moon Sea Ride, and northward along the Yeven Trail. Ashabanford is surrounded by farm land to the east and north, the Ashaba river to the west, and the elven wood to the south. The city is not gated, but the Moon Sea Ride runs east and west, with a massive ford of the river Ashaba. A haul out is on the western side of the river north and south of the Moon Sea Ride, and is supported by several out buildings of the Black Eagle coster that is the merchant coster supporting Mistledale. To the west of the city is a meeting place for merchants, and their assigned crews known as Merchants Hollow. It is a small depression that can support approximately two-hundred people.

Ashabanford was swollen with merchant traffic since the onset of spring, and rains had puddled the cobbled streets. Two inns and one tavern supported the brisk trade traffic and nightlife in Ashabanford. The half-elven mage walked eastward with his company along the Moon Sea Ride as they took in the sights of Ashabanford.  As the party walked eastward, they passed Kaulvaeras Stables, Lhuin’s Fine leathers, and the Ashabanford Arms Inn. The party decided to stop at the Ashabanford Arms for rest and relaxation.

Ashabanford Arms was a quiet inn with a large common room, and patio. The bar was virtually empty, and the barkeeper smiled as the party of adventurers stepped into the establishment.

“Welcome weary travelers.” A human behind the bar said.

“Hello, barkeep.” Xarno said. “How may we find rooms for the next two nights?”

The barkeep raised a section of the bar, and disappeared. He returned with a young woman, who had a large book in her hands. She smiled as she approached Xarno.

“Hello.  I am Tricia. Owen says you are interested in rooms for two nights? Is that correct?” She asked.

“Yes, that is correct. We will need four rooms. Two of us per room please, and the lady will room with her child.” Xarno said politely.

“The going rate is five gold pieces a night, with a five gold piece deposit. Food and beverage are separate at five gold pieces per room per night, or twenty-five gold pieces for your entire party.” The young woman said.

Xarno opened his belt pouch and removed thirty gold in various denominations, and gave them to the young woman, “The additional five gold pieces are for taking care of us right away.” The mage said. “Well want baths, and directions for fresh clothes.”

“Yes, we will provide that when you wish.” Tricia said.

“When we are bathed and fed, could you give us those directions then.” Xarno said.

She nodded, and waved for the party to follow them to follow, which they dutifully did in their mud and blood stained clothing. A room was in the east wing for them to bathe, and a fire was roaring with a large kettle of water boiling in it. Large wooden tuns had been laid on end, and were cut in half. A ladder stood against each of the six tuns. Clean water was pumped into each tun, and the barkeep dropped in a red cube into each tun. In minutes the cold water was steaming, and felt hot to the touch. Kjellinger unabashedly stripped and climbed a ladder to the top of the tun and dropped in feet first with a watery splash.

“Oh this is wonderful!” He said as he started applying soap to his body.

The others followed suit, while Erewan stepped out of the bathing room to check on Quillan’s needs. The baby was sleeping peacefully, and a small basket was supplied for him to sleep in while she went about and prepared her room to suit her needs. Food was brought up to her room by Owen, and she fed herself, then nursed Quillan.

The adventurers stepped out of the water, clear of the tubs with a refreshed attitude. They each broke out their spare change of clothes and made way for the dining hall. Fresh fruit was in bowls on the tables, and pitchers of water and ales were standing freshly poured. A haunch of freshly cooked beef was simmering on the spit in the hearth. Sounds of a poorly played bandore came from another room.

Kjellinger walked to the hearth, and took a plate from the table  where a young boy cut off how much meat the bard requested. The bard sat and made a sandwich of the beef with dark and light bread, and the thinly sliced cheeses and sausages on the tables. He washed it down with a pitcher of ale. Then he stood up and followed the sound of the bandore as the player struggled to coax the sounds from the instrument’s strings.

Dinnel sat by Kjellinger right before the bard stepped away from the table. “What is his problem?” The warrior priest asked

“Oh he just hates poorly played musical instruments. He will be in here teaching whoever it is how to play, and you will hear some fantastic sounds. Kjellinger left his bandore behind, and he plays it very well. You should see him when he is entertaining, he can pack ‘em in. He is one of the best.”  Garntay said.

True to the High Priests word, the bard returned, tuning the instrument, and playing little ditties. A youth followed him with a smile. The skald sat on the table and poured a flagon of elven wine into a small crystal glass.

“How long have you been practicing playing the vihuela?” Kjellinger asked the youth as the bard sipped at his wine.

“I started this year.” The youth said.

“Give yourself time, and you can play like this.” The bard said as his fingers flew over the fret board while his other hand rapidly picked at the strings. Joy filled the hearts of the players. “Or you can play like this.” Kjellinger skald said as he aggressively attacked the strings with the plectrum. Energy coursed through the party.

Xarno shook his head. “Easy Kjell, everybody here knows you can play that thing better than anyone. Your emotions are just spraying everywhere.”

“Sorry! I get this way when I have not played in a while.” Kjellinger said apologetically.

“You are him, aren’t you?” The youth asked. 

“I am who?” The bard asked.

“You are the best bard in the Dalelands. You’re Kjellinger, aren’t you? I am Billy” Billy said rephrasing his question.

“Yes he is, a strange voice said in the doorway of the dining hall. Hello Kjell.” The half elf said who stood at the door.

“Sartorius! You should hear him play! He is everything you said he was!” The youth said as he ran to the half elf.

“That, and much more my little Billy. Well, my friend, how long are you in town this time?” The half elf asked.

“Okay Kjell, who don’t you know on this trip?” Dinnel asked.

“My friends, this is Sartorius, another troubadour. He is from Ashabanford. Where are you playing my friend?” Kjellinger said as he introduced the other bard to the party.

Sartorius gave Lindisfjarn a hug after shaking hands. “It has been a long time, my elven friend.” Sartorius said.

“It has at that.” The elven ranger said with a smile.

Kjellinger poured Sartorius a glass of wine.

“I am at the White Hart inn, on the other side. I have a room at the Six Shields boarding house.” Sartorius explained.

“I appreciate seeing you Sartorius. We are only in town for a few days. What is business like? Any groups to play for?” Kjellinger asked.

“Oh, you know how it is. Busy one day, bored the next.” Sartorius said. “How would you like to give ‘em a show? That is if you want to?”

“I am free tonight and tomorrow if that is what you are asking, then we leave day after tomorrow.”

“Whatever happened to that Thenedain character you were raving about?” Sartorius asked.

The room was quiet, Sartorius realized he had just stepped on a sore spot. Sartorius looked to the ground. “Well I had heard some rumors, and since you were close to the guy you could give me the skinny on what happened."

Erewan entered the dining hall with the basket in which Quillan was sleeping. She had bathed, and looked refreshed. “Hello all, I just thought I would make an appearance. Why is everyone so quiet?” Erewan asked.

“We were discussing Thenedain.” Kjellinger said. “My friend Sartorius asked about him, and did not know that Thenedain had passed away.”

“Yes, my husband is gone, but to better places as you humans would say.” The princess responded.

“Your husband?” Sartorius asked.

“Now Sartorius, everything you hear about us and our travels must be held in the utmost confidence.” The bard said. Heads nodded about the table.

“Okay, you have the cat’s curiosity, spill it.” Sartorius said.

“Not here, we do not know who is here. Is there a Zhentarim presence in Ashabanford?” Kjellinger asked.

“What does the Zhentarim have anything to do about it?” Sartorius asked.

“Everything.” Kjellinger said.

“Okay, I am beginning to get a dim picture of what is going on here.” Sartorius said.

“Good, because that is all you need to know right now. Later, maybe more, but until then you know enough.” Kjellinger said.

Sartorius raised his arms in submission. “Okay, I was just curious. So, how about tonight?”

“What about tonight?” Kjellinger asked.

“A show, would you like to put on a show?” Sartorius asked again.

“Yes, when and where?” Kjellinger asked.

“Excellent, tonight here at sun down.” Sartorius said as he stepped out of the dining hall with little Billy in tow.

The bard smiled as his friend disappeared down the hall and out of the building.

“Who was that?” The princess asked.

“Oh, that was just a friend of mine, Sartorius. He has been a bard here for many years.” The skald responded.

“Can you trust him?” Boldar asked.

“Definitely. He and I trained under the same teacher for many years. He trained as a musician, and I trained as an adventurer.” Kjellinger said.

“Huh?” The dwarf responded. “What kind of answer is that?”

“He is a pure musician. All he knows involves entertainment. No, he would be a liability out in the field.” The bard said, almost reading the dwarfs mind.

“So what yer’ telling me is that there are two types of skalds?” Boldar asked.

“That is right. A bard was originally for recording interesting events in court, and to the host and his guests in the hosts keep.” The skald said.

Obviously satisfied with the explanation, the party’s discussion went elsewhere. What they did not notice was Owen taking note of their conversation and recording the discussion in a short hand type of code.  When he was finished writing, Owen, slid the sheet of vellum between several inventory sheets.

“Well, I am going to get some rest for tonight.” Kjellinger said.

The party wished him well as he went to his room.

A wagon loaded with supplies rolled up to the Ashabanford Arms Inn and transferred supplies previously ordered. The documentation supporting this order was transferred to the inn administrators as an invoice, and the next order was transferred to the driver, and would be filled within the week. Owen gave the driver a folder, and winked to the driver. The driver nodded in understanding. Taking the file, the driver departed the inn to a nearby merchant, and transferred the file to other hands. This was repeated several times this day until the file was given to hands of leadership and communication.

A mage working in his home, began casting a spell to initiate a crystal scrying sphere. A face appeared in the sphere.

“Your report?” The face said.

“I have information concerning Scardale.” The mage said.

“Continue.” The face said as it looked deeply into the eyes of the scrying mage.

“It seems that the now dead Lord Thenedain had taken an elven wife from Cormanthyr. She has a child from him, and they are here at the Ashabanford Arms Inn.” Xarno said.

“You have done well, keep us aware of their movements. How did they arrive in Ashabanford?” The face asked.

“That is unknown to me at this time.” The mage said.

“Very well. Stay in contact, and update me with pertinent information.” Said the face, and the sphere became opalescent, then turned clear.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

Feodor, the mage lived in Elven Crossing, and began a trek to Ashabanford to look at this party, and see who they were.

Feodor was his name, and he had been in the employ of the Zhentarim for the past twenty years. He had been intercepting messages for quite a while, most of them mundane. Feodor had mostly routed messages about merchant traffic in and out of the dales. Some had been about Harpers, or Lords of the Alliance traffic. This was to be his first “clean up” mission. He was required to follow and update the whereabouts and intentions of the party. First the mage had to learn the party strength. The Black Network appreciated those types of details.

His trek was shortened by a wagon that happened to be traveling to Ashabanford. By late afternoon, Feodor was walking the streets of Ashabanford. He sought his contact within the Black Eagle coster, and arranged for some men to become available. Then he checked the Ashabanford Arms Inn, and spoke with Owen over a glass of fine elven wine.

“I will give ye a nod o’ the head when they surface.” Owen said.

Feodor nodded in return and left to call in some more markers.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

Lindisfjarn woke Kjellinger at nightfall.

“Thank-you. Lindisfjarn, my life long ranger friend.” The bard said. The skald memorized new entertainment spells into his memory. A knock on his door sounded when he was finished with his study. Sartorius was waiting for him.

“Come on in Sart.” Kjellinger said.

“How do you want to go about this? I have many people showing up here in a while, and we need to impress them.” Sartorius said nervously.

“You have been in this business how long? You are nervous?” The traveling bard asked.

“I arranged to call in some debts I have here. Hey, you are well known, my friend. People have heard of your antics, and how you worked directly with Thenedain. They will have some questions. So how are we going to do this?” The bard from Ashabanford asked.

“I will go down there theatrically, and then the show will begin with some illusions, and some colored lights. I will go straight into music. You tell the jokes to warm them up, and I will take one break, Then we will really give it to them. Do you know this number?” Kjellinger asked.

Sartorius nodded his head and played the same song for a few stanzas.

“Good, this song will be my opener, and then I will go into some verse just to even it out. Okay?” The traveling bard said while nodded his head.

Sartorius was in complete agreement, and smiled before he left Kjellinger’s room.

Kjellinger was nervous. He had only done this a few times, and fortunately the audience liked his style. Being accepted is a personal thing to a bard, at least Kjellinger thought so. It was time for him to leave. The sky was dark, and a lantern could be seen illuminating the street by the Moon Sea ride.

The dining hall was full of people chatting to each other, and waiting for the lights to go down. Sartorius stepped on stage, and the audience roared.

“Good evening everyone, how are you all doing tonight? I know many of you are from out of town. I even see some adventuring types, been slaying any goblins or kobolds lately? An evil mage was heard to be near, but he didn’t give me his name. He comes highly recommended. It is said he has a cure, for living. He said he would send me on a free one way.  All expenses paid trips, to the Astral plane. Sounds like my kind of guy. Just because I was dating his half-ogre daughter. Those were some rough nights, let me tell you. She was the only woman I ever met, who could win a drinking contest, and an ugly contest overwhelmingly at the same time. What are you shaking your heads for? I know women. No, this woman would dislocate my spine every time she hugged me. I had to call a cleric, and get therapy every time we went out.” Sartorius continued with his monologue. 

“I had this friend of mine, and I do mean had. No, I’m not that kind of guy. He was lying on his deathbed, and he tried to level with his wife who was dressed in black and kneeling by the head of the bed. He kept trying to speak to his wife, but she shushed him every time he spoke. You know how it is, your wife shushes you whenever you think you have something worthwhile to add to a conversation. ‘You don’t know anything,’ your wife says. Hey I know many things. Like I know it rains in the spring, is hot in the summer, and snows in the winter. How else do I get my crops in?” Sartorius said with a smile as he pointed to a man in the audience.

“Just like she just shushed you. Yeah, you!” The bard said as the afflicted person receiving his attention became the focus of the entire audience, their necks craned to see who this person was.

“As I was saying, this guy is dying on his bed, and every time he tries to speak his wife shushes him. So he says, ‘Dear I need to go out on an honest note.’ So his wife says ‘If it will make you feel better.’ So this guy sits up and looks into his wife’s beautiful eyes and says, ‘I am sorry.  However, I had sex with your sister, your best friend, your aunt, and your mother.’ His wife turns to him and says, ‘I know, that is why I poisoned you.’

“Tonight, I have a treat for you. Few of you have seen him, but many of you have heard of him. He is one of a kind, and they tell me he is entertaining too. Let me introduce Kjellinger!” Sartorius said with the most fan fare he could muster.

The candles went out, and a mist rose from the middle rows of seats. A flash of light broke the silence and a figure in chain mail strode onto the stage.

“My name is Thenedain. My life, and the throne of Scardale will be avenged.” The figure said.

The audience sat transfixed as the figure slowly dissolved into nothing.

A yarting was raucously plucked with fantastic speed into a rhythmic sound.  It sounded metallic, and almost unearthly. Individual tones blended into the previous notes. A blue light highlighted the back of the stage, and a figure wearing a plumed hat stood playing the bandore. His fingers flowed over the strings and fret board. Then he started to sing.

“There I was standing in the middle,

I could leave left or right.

We didn’t know it would take so little,

To turn the darkness into light.”

The tapers and lanterns relit, and the audience was bathed in light. Hands came together in applause.

“Looking through pictures in my mind.”

The symbol of Scardale appeared magically before the audience.

“We saw the sea, We saw the mountain,

We watched the sun sink into the night.

Hand in hand, there was no question,

We knew the birds were still in flight.”

“Looking through pictures in my mind.”

The symbol of Scardale, changed to the symbol of Cormanthyr, and the elves.

“These pictures come to me,

And they make me think of you.

I remember how it used to be.”

“I know deep down inside,

The love we used to have was true,

It’s all right to put the blame on me.”

“Looking at pictures.”

“These pictures come to me,

And they make me think of you.

I remember how it used to be,

I know deep down inside,

The love we used to have was true.

It’s all right to put the blame on me.”

“Looking at pictures,

Pictures in my mind.

Looking at pictures,

Pictures in my mind.”

Kjellinger ended the song, and went into an instrumental. The crowd was mesmerized by the magic of his ability. Men and women wept at the ability Kjellinger displayed. The serving women stood silently entranced.

Kjellinger exchanged his bandore for his flute, and began to play an old elven melody of happiness. Feet tapped to the beat, and heads went this way and that as the tune continued. Kjellinger added a few notes, and some dogs that were inside came right up to the stage and sat as the skald played. Cats lay near the dogs without fear of being attacked.

The bard ended the tune, and took a short breather as he hefted his lute. “How are you folks tonight?” He said as the audience snapped out of it, smiles on their faces. “How am I doing so far?” He asked.

The audience rose and clapped. Many exclamations of amazement were said as they responded to his question.

“I am going to play an old elven tune that was very popular about three hundred years ago.” The bard said as he strummed his lute. Then he went into the short little ditty, and walked among the smiling audience. The perimeter of the dining hall was lined with illusory trees, and the sounds of birds came from the ceiling. Kjellinger worked his way back to the stage, and finished the song. He set down the lute, and hefted Sartorius’ bandore.

“This is a song I have worked on for most of this year, and I hope you like it.” Kjellinger said.

He started with more of the metallic sound from his bandore, and the audience was moving to the sound like they were animated dolls

“Well you say you’re out for a good time,

And you won’t be happy with nothing else.

So tonight is the night for a party,

But you know we can’t do it all ourselves,”

“Only thing I can think of is,

It would be better if you give us some help.

So don’t just sit there and fight it,

Get up, get up and enjoy yourself,

Get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself.

Get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself.”

“Now c’mon!”

“There you are bottle in hand,

With some good gold in your pocket.

You hit the pad, and the time is right,

So get up and let’s see if you got it.”

People from the audience were moving for what ever reason in the aisles.

“So get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself,

Get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself.”

“‘Cause I don’t want you sitting round,

Wondering what’s going down.

‘Cause I’m up here to entertain,

That’s the only game I play.

So get yourself into this song,

Help your self, before I’m gone.”

“There’s no time like now to get it up,

There’s no time like now to get it up.”

“Get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself.

Get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself.

Get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself.

Get up get up get up, get up and enjoy yourself.”

He ended the song with a flourish of chords, and then Kjellinger signaled a serving girl to give him an ale. “Have you tipped your server yet?” He asked. They are working their fanny’s off trying to take care of you. You know.”

Coins started to flow onto the serving trays, as more ale came from the bar.

A man walked up to Kjellinger, and smiled. “Were you in Scardale when it fell?” The man asked.

“No, I was not, or I would not be here. The loss of life of the defenders by Zhentilar troops was very high.” The bard said in response.

“How is it you know about what happened?” Asked the man.

“Let us just say I had friends on the inside, and one of them was very important to me.” Replied the skald.

“Who was that?” The man asked.                                                        

“Thenedain. He was a friend. A few of us here tonight who knew him well. We owe our lives to him for the training he provided.” Kjellinger said.

“So you were with Lashen during his break out?” The man asked.

“No. Any man loyal to Thenedain understood the weaknesses of Lashen. When Lashen opted to make that move, many defenders knew it was time to leave. We even asked Thenedain to usurp the throne. He would have none of it. He was loyal until the day he died defending the city.” The bard said.

The man stood nodding at Kjellinger’s answers, then he returned to his table, and ordered another ale.

An old man stood from the table he was sitting at, and approached Kjellinger. “Kind sir, may I trouble you for a few answers to my questions?” The old man said.

“If I know the answers.” Responded the bard.

“Yes, of course. How is it you sing of Thenedain, and others do not?” Asked the old man.

“Because he was a dear friend, and his loss was needless.” The skald replied.

“What do you mean?” The old man   asked.                                                                                                                                                 

“I mean he did not have to follow Lashen, he could have left the city, or he could have usurped the throne.” Kjellinger said bluntly.

“He did not do that?” The old man asked.

“That is right.” Returned the bard.

“Why?” The wizened looking man asked.

“Who knows, loyalty perhaps, it was not stupidity. Thenedain was an excellent tactician.” The skald said.

“Are there those who are sympathetic to your beliefs?” Asked the old man.

“Why?” Kjellinger asked.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

He did not respond, but the old man walked out of the dining hall. Feodor knew the young bard was in league with others, but had no idea who his confederates were. It would take further observation for the old mage to learn who this bard’s confidants were. One thing that Feodor walked away with was that this bard’s skills were very keen. The people bent to his will immediately, and were very supple under his control. Feodor’s contacts needed to be notified, and appraised of the situation.

Outside Feodor’s room stood an unseemly character who was leaning against the corridor wall. As Feodor approached, the man  exposed a tattoo on his right forearm, signifying allegiance with the Zhentarim.

“I have the men you seek, and a few surprises in store for those that choose to cross us.” He said

“You are who?” Feodor asked.

“I am one who would support your cause, and clean the dales of those who oppose us.  Tarek is my name.” Tarek said.

“Well, Tarek, by your credentials, you are the man with whom I wish to speak. I have a job for you.” The wizened mage said.

“The job in question is?” Asked the slick looking man.

“No questions about funding?” Feodor said.

“That has been provided.” Tarek said.

“Excellent, our leaders move rapidly. How soon can you organize the others you mentioned?” The old mage asked.

“Tonight. We are all here, and have been for some time.” The slick operator answered.

“The performer downstairs.” Feodor said.

“Ah, the dandy!” Tarek said with a sneer.

“Find out who his associates are, and point them out to me.” The mage ordered.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

Kjellinger finished his ale, and picked up the bandore that Sartorius lent him. As he stepped up to the front of the stage, the crowd became quiet as they devoted their attention to the entertainer.

“I hope you have been enjoying yourselves, unfortunately I do not get a chance to do this very often with the way things are now. When I get the opportunity, I will try to make my way out here again, and I hope to see you all again in the future. This is a song I wrote while serving in Scardale. It goes something like this.”

“Some men can’t be happy without making somebody cry,

And some men gotta’ be famous, and take all the stars from the sky.

Some men found the answer in a big old house by the sea,

All I ever want to be is your man, that’s all that matters  to me.”

“Some men got to have money, or they can’t sleep at night,

And some men can’t be happy without every pretty girl in sight.

Some boys still need momma, oh they just can’t be alone,

All I ever want to be is your man, and nothings going to go wrong.”

“You made a brand new life for me,

Now I’m the man that I want to be.

Look in my eyes it’s easy to see,

You made the man I am, the man I want to be.”

“You made a brand new life for me,

Now I’m the man that I want to be.

Look in my eyes it’s easy to see,

You made me the man I want to be.

I’m the man I want to be,

You made me the man I want to be.”

The lights went dim with a wave of Kjellinger’s hand. An emblem, the sigil representing Scardale was projected onto the ceiling.

“We have gone through some confusing times with the recent events. I hope we can all put everything back together, and continue with our lives. Before I go, I have a last song to play for you, and I hope you continue to have a good night.” The bard said as he started a quick ditty on the bandore.

The audience’s volume quickly diminished as he continued with his interlude. An illusory dancer performed a ballet on the stage next to him.

“Day and  night, sitting alone wondering where you been going,

In my mind I can see your face and the love that I thought it was showing.

Didn’t know it was all a mask and my love wasted devotion,

Now I’m here, and you are some where else,

Dancing with another’s emotion, another’s emotion.”

The dancer changed into a beautiful woman dressed in dark navy blue, still dancing on the stage.

“I remember the night you captured my soul,

And no mind of my own, I lost all control.

I knew I had seen you before In so many of my dreams,

Like my dreams, you danced away leaving only visions for me.

Of the dance away, dance away lover,

Leading me on, every step of the way.

You called the tune, and you used it well,

You danced away and you left me here.”

The illusory dancer reappeared.

“Oh dance away, dance away lover.

Dance away.”

The illusory dancer changed back into the dark navy blue clad woman who danced with an illusory man.

“Day and night, I’m sitting alone I’m wondering where you been going,

Didn’t know it was all a mask and my love wasted devotion.

Now I’m here, and you are some where else,

Dancing with another’s emotion, another’s emotion.

Oh dance away, dance away lover,

Leading me on, every step of the way.

You called the tune, and you used it well,

You danced away and you left me here.”

“Oh dance away, dance away lover,

Dance away.”

Kjellinger disappeared, and the dancers slowly faded into the ethereal. He made his way to the back of the dining hall by his comrades. As the bard turned and faced the stage, five toughs and a woman walked into the dining hall. They waited until the lights came up before they advanced into the hall. Kjellinger tapped Dinnel on the shoulder, and pointed to the toughs as they walked into the center of the hall.

“Aye Dinnel, do ya’ see that? Boldar asked.

The warrior priest looked about the room until he saw the five toughs. “I see them.” He said.

“Do you see the tattoo of the tall slick one there? It’s on his neck.” Boldar said with a certainty.

“Yes, but I have never seen one like that before.” The warrior priest said.

“He’s a Zhent, if I’ve ever seen one.” Boldar exclaimed.

The slick tough looked about him getting accustomed to the light of the hall. Spying Kjellinger, the slick came to where the bard was sitting with his friends.

In a not too appealing smile, the slick looked at the skald, and then to the party as they sat together.

“Can I help you?” Dinnel said to the tall tough.

“No, I found what I wanted. Are you together? Can we sit here?” Tarek said. He nodded and his group sat amid the party.

Xarno stood at the interruption, and looked about him, an old man standing by the door was watching the table with intent interest. The mage tapped Lindisfjarn on the shoulder. “My elven friend, could you please escort me through the crowd to the DOOR. Miss, would you come with me please.”

Lindisfjarn and Erewan stood to help the mage, who needed no help to the door. They passed Feodor in mock assistance to a crippled old man. When they were in the hallway, Xarno turned, and pointed to the back of Feodor, and mouthed the word Zhentarim.

Lindisfjarn broke away, and looked back at the party. He acted as though he were breaking a stick with his knee.

The party stood, and Tarek’s party stood simultaneously.

“Well if you will excuse us, we have to be going. I have a show in High Moon within the week, so I must get some rest before I leave.” Kjellinger said.

As the bard stepped away, Tarek grabbed the bard’s upper arm. “Not so fast dandy!” Tarek said.

Kjellinger stepped into the tall tough, and pushed with an elbow. Tarek fell on his back sprawled across the dining table. He knew he could not use area affect spells in the dining hall, and his spells for offense and defense had been replaced by illusions.

“Harm me not human, or you may just rue the day.” The skald said with a fearful tone.

Lindisfjarn was behind the mage as Feodor began casting a spell. The elven ranger struck Feodor with power, and the mage dropped to the floor.

Boldar hefted Klist Korrats, and stood between the line of retreat, and his comrades brandishing the weapon.

The High Priest held up his mace, and signaled for Kjellinger to come to him.

Dinnel was already casting a hold spell to protect them from further advances by the curs. It released, and four of the five human males stood where they were, motionless and helpless. The woman began to cast a spell. As she did so, Xarno released a magic missile at her. Forcing her to lose the spell she had begun to cast. Boldar quickly kicked her in the solar plexus. The sound of the wind escaping through her teeth, and the sound of her crumpling to the floor was gratifying to the dwarf. He smiled as Dinnel grasped him by the collar, and extricated the dwarf from the dining hall.

“We’ll find you dandy!” The lone human yelled as he stood there in the dining hall. We will find you!”

Sartorius took Kjellinger’s instruments out the back way, and met the party as they were walking to their rooms. “What was that about?” Sartorius asked.

“No questions!” Xarno said. His face was red with rage. They piled into one room. “Pack your gear, and get ready to move. Kjellinger, you need to memorize your spells fast. We move for the barge in the evening tomorrow. We stay in two rooms. Lindisfjarn and Dinnel, you watch Kjellinger while he rests. The rest are with me. Garntay, we may need that special spell, the one you save for harrowing occasions.”

The High Priest nodded, and went back to watching the door. Each was trying to figure out how the Zhentarim got wind of their activities.

Boldar was fit to be tied. “We had ‘em! We could have eliminated the problem right there!” He said with anger in his voice.

“Kill them in a bar brawl. That would be fun explaining to the Riders. Yes sir, we murdered several people because they had Zhentarim tattoos. Excellent choice. At least we diffused a perilous situation.” Garntay said.

“What about tomorrow night?” Kjellinger asked.

“What about tomorrow?” Xarno asked in return.

“I promised Sartorius.  I would perform tomorrow.” The bard said.

“Hey, we can forego tomorrow Sartorius said. I can just let that one go, and pay my debts another way.” Sartorius said.

“How much do you owe?” The skald asked his friend.

“Oh, let me see.” Sartorius said scratching his chin, “About twenty-five-hundred in gold.”

Boldar opened the door, and disappeared out into the hall. He came back moments later with his pack. The dwarf removed a small pouch, and counted out twenty-five gems. “Here, your debt is paid.” Boldar said as he held out his hand to Sartorius.

“You’re extremely generous. I don’t know what to say, Boldar.” The entertainer said with a pale face.

“Don’t say a thing. Yer a friend of Kjell’s, and that’s enough.” The dwarf said.

“Thank-you. Look.  I’ll take care of you really well. I know the staff, and they have great food here. I’ll get them to give me some food, and I’ll have it sent up.” Sartorius said.

“No. If you have somebody send it up, then the Zhents will know where we are.” Xarno said. “Just bring us up what you can.”

“He will need help.” Kjellinger said.

“How are you going to help him?” Dinnel asked.

“Watch.” The bard said as he removed his shoes. “Elf friend, lend me a change of your clothes.”

“Huh?” The dwarf said dumbfounded.

“Erewan, if you do not mind?” The bard said as he spun his index finger around toward the ground.

Erewan’s face turned red as she turned around and faced a wall. Kjellinger took off his shoes and clothes, and cast a spell to alter his features so he appeared as a halfling. Then he quickly dressed in Boldar’s clothes, and adjusted himself to look pudgy, and very furry on the tops of his feet. “Now we can get some food, and some drink. Okay Sartorius, show me to your staff, carefully. I am a merchant from Corm Orp named Winky Tenderfoot.” Kjellinger said.

Sartorius smiled and led the way. The two bards were silent as they walked the length of the main corridor back to the dining hall. They turned the corner, to enter the hall, and Owen was speaking with the tall slick tough the party had just dealt embarrassment. Owen was smiling, but Tarek was sneering instead of smiling. “You said they were easy pickins’ man.” Tarek said rubbing his chest. “Who cast the spell to take us out like that?”

Owen shrugged his shoulders, and said. “I think it was the half-elf in black chain mail. I don’t know his name. How is Kyra? Feodor said she had some broken ribs where the dwarf kicked her.”

“She’ll heal, but is out of action for the time being . . . ” Tarek stopped speaking in mid sentence as Owen held up his hand.                                                           

“Yes Sartorius, what can I do to help you?” Owen asked the bard.

“Hello.” Sartorius nodded to the sneering Tarek. “Hello Owen, I know it is late, but my merchant friend from Corm Orp has just arrived in Ashabanford, and is looking for food and libation.” The entertainer said.

“It’ll cost ya’ mate.” Owen said.

“How much?” Sartorius asked.

“Oh about half of what you owe me, and then twenty more.” The bartender said with a smile.

Sartorius opened his belt pouch and produced a gem, and gave it to Owen. “This should cover everything.” The bard said.

Owen held the gem to the lantern light, and examined it thoroughly. “Yes, that would foot the bill. Talk to the chef, and see what he can scratch up, but I don’t think he has enough for a halfling.” Owen said.

Sartorius and Kjellinger took their leave of the two conspirators, and walked into the kitchen.

Three chefs were standing in front of a recipe book going over ingredients. One of them spied Sartorius, and started snapping his fingers. 

“Yes Ramone. I know I owe you money. That is why I’m here.” Sartorius said.

“Hey I taught were going to run out on me. You leedle weasel.” The chef said.

The miscreant bard slid up to the three men. “Any of you guys got change? Hey I owe you men how much?” Sartorius asked the three chefs.

They shook their hands and sternly looked at the entertainer. Sartorius produced three gems, and gave one to each chef. “Hey, now that we’re square. My friend would like to have some of your good cooking. Since I came forward and made good on our deal, how about a little help?” He asked.

The three cooks just folded their arms and looked toward the floor or the ceiling as though he was not there.

“Okay! What a tough crowd. Here! Split this three ways.” The entertainer said as he produced another gem. “Now, can I get some food for my friend here?” He asked.

The three men consulted each other, and nodded. They disappeared into a dry storage room, and brought forth a still steaming tureen of beef stew, two warm meat pies, and a haunch of lamb. From the larder, a chef returned with a freshly decorated cake, and a steaming boysenberry pie. Another chef returned from the dining hall with a pony keg of ale. All the food and ale were placed on a rolling cart, and pushed gently toward the entertainer and his halfling friend. “Eef you have gold, geeve us a call.” Ramone the chef said.

The two friends pushed the cart out of the kitchen, and into the now empty dining hall. Owen and his slick friend were no where to be seen. Sartorius and Kjellinger then made a bee line back to the rooms. The party was still congregated together, welcoming the refreshment. Plates and forks were passed among the group, as daggers were offered to carve the roast lamb, and slice the cake and pie. Each adventurer ate their fill, and drank what they wished.

“I have to get some rest, if I am to be of use tomorrow.” Kjellinger said.

He looked at Lindisfjarn and Dinnel. The two adventurers stood as the bard got to his feet, and walked to the door. The elven ranger took to the passageway first, and gave the all clear. They then made their way to the room across the hall where Kjellinger kept his gear.

Bedding down, the three friends chose their arrangements with Lindisfjarn taking the floor with his feet against the door of the room.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

Feodor sat in his room with a bruise on the back of his head. He felt foolish for letting the elven woman her elven, and the old man trick him. The moment Feodor had tried to cast a spell, and the lights had gone out with a tremendous blow to his back, but he did recognize who the party was who helped the elven woman this far.

Kyra was in worse condition, she was moaning on the bed beside him with some broken ribs from that goat riding dwarf. The remaining member of Tarek’s party, who was unharmed gave complete descriptions of the party of “do gooders”. Smith had said there a cleric with that party. It was the cleric who had immobilized Tarek, and his crew of ruffians.

With Kyra out of commission, Feodor was the only mage to combat the party, and the bard was no dandy. He had used a street trick to drop Tarek harmlessly onto the table at which they had been sitting. This would have to be avenged before Feodor made his report.

Feodor spent the night looking for clerics who would heal Kyra, but that cut into his rest and preparation time. Tarek came into Feodor’s room asking about the young woman. “How is Kyra?”

“She will live. You were such a fool to confront them as a group. Thenedain taught them well. I suggest you rethink any efforts of engaging this party without some additional help.” Feodor said with a look of disdain.

“Look.  I have fulfilled my end of the bargain. We have identified who these vagabonds are, and we have learned additional information. Merchants Hollow has the Thousand Heads trading coster bivouacked.” Tarek said with a straight face.

“Go on.” The mage said with interest.

“All they talked about was this party of elves and half-elves that traveled upriver from the Pool of Yeven.” Tarek added. “Several crew members said this party had a female traveling with them, and they were destined for Shadowdale.”                                            

“I am interested.” Feodor said as he took out his pipe, and loaded it with a substance that did not resemble pipeweed.

“The barge going upriver leaves tomorrow morning.” The slick tough said with authority. “Our friends have to get to the barge before they leave town. We ambush them.”

“Yes, we ambush them as they are leaving the ford for the west side of the river.” Feodor said as he inhaled the pungent smoke from his pipe, and held his breath.

“I will arrange for some more help, and we will set this up so we do not fail.” Tarek said.

“Good, now leave me be.” The mage said as he exhaled a lung full of the acrid smoke.

Tarek left the mage to his mind expanding, and left the Ashabanford Arms Inn for the Velvet Veil tavern. His contact was there for more men.

Inside the tavern Tarek held a man by the lapels against the back wall.

“I need more men!” The tall street tough said. “If I am to complete this mission, you will provide those men. How you get them is your affair, now get them by tonight!”

The other man nodded, and relaxed after Tarek released his grip. Then the other man grabbed his cloak and hat, and departed the tavern.

***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***   ***

Kjellinger awoke to a baby’s mewing. Dinnel and Lindisfjarn were gone, and Erewan was nursing Quillan under a blanket. The sound came to him from far away. As his eyes adjusted to the light, the sound brought him back to reality.

“Did we wake you?” Erewan asked.

“Hmm” Kjellinger asked fuzzily.

“Did Quillan wake you?” The princess asked.

“Sort of.” The bard said in a yawn. “Is it early?”

“No it is mid afternoon, and his Lordship is having lunch.” She replied. “They have food and some of that hot drink they call ‘coffee’ in the other room. Boldar, Dinnel, and Lindisfjarn are outside guarding the doors.”

“Excellent. I think I will venture forth, and eat my fill.” The bard said whimsically.

“I will be in a moment. I have to burp him.” The princess said as she mothered Quillan.

Kjellinger exited the room, and received nods from his three comrades serving as guards. Xarno entered the room across the hall, and saw Xarno and Garntay sitting quietly. Both looked up at him when he entered the room.

“Ah he has returned to the land of the living.” Garntay said.

“Yeah, I am alive. Thanks for saving me yesterday.” The bard said to the two companions.

“That is all right, we need you for the morning. We have food from the kitchen. Sartorius has provided us some excellent fare.” The High Priest said as he pulled the towel off a cart that contained about every dish imaginable.

Kjellinger’s stomach grumbled as he looked at the still steaming food. He took a plate that Garntay extended to him, and began filling it with eggs and ham, and other breakfast staples. A jar of canned peaches caught the skald’s attention. The bard sat on the wooden floor as he concentrated on his meal.

“What is it like for you to use magic?” Xarno asked. “What I mean to ask is, I was given a gift by the Queen of Midnight herself. Garntay receives his spell energy from Corrallon, and you, you are an enigma. I have seen you cast magic similar to mine, but you do it faster with much more power. Why is that?”

“Well,” Kjellinger said between mouthfuls of food. “I placate three deities. One is Midnight herself as you do, and Oghma, the Binder of true knowledge, with Milil, the God of inspiration.”

“What do you have to do to cast your spells?” The mage asked.

Garntay handed Kjellinger a large steaming mug of coffee, which the bard accepted, and washed down his last mouthful. “It is like visualizing what you have in knowledge, and then you confirm it. Then I apply it - instantaneously. The music is the same.  It is just a gift.” The skald said as he returned to his meal.

“We do not see you pray, my friend.” Garntay asked.

“No, you do not, but you hear me pray whenever I sing, or play an instrument. I do it for those who have inspired me, especially the Binder, and Milil.” Kjellinger said.

“So you use spells instantaneously?” Xarno asked.

The bard nodded in agreement as he chewed his most frequent mouthful.

“We are not condemning your beliefs, but we never knew. Why is it Sartorius is just an entertainer?” Garntay asked.

The bard put down his fork, and looked at his friends. “Sartorius is strictly an entertainer. He learned his art in Sembia while traveling with a troupe. In reality he is just a simple thief and con artist. Why?”

“We thought he might be a good asset to the party.” The mage said.

“Definitely not! He is not an asset, and I have taught him all he knows about breaking and entering.” The bard said.

“You a thief, come on!” Garntay said.

“Excuse me, but I am probably the best pick pocket in the realms. I can break into virtually any lock by magic, or by skill.” The skald exclaimed.

“We just want to get a feel for your abilities.” Xarno said.

“When Thenedain wanted information, who did he send?” Kjellinger asked.

“You and a few others. Like Lindisfjarn and Dinnel, to support you during the operations.” Garntay said.

“How do you think we could figure out that Sembia was going to move, on the city of Scardale?” The bard asked in a miffed tone.

“We on the walls had heard that Sembia was planning to move before they even started their recall.” Said Xarno. 

“How do you think Thenedain was getting his information?” The skald asked.

“We have no idea, maybe.  You can enlighten us?” The High Priest asked.

“Why do you think I know Lindisfjarn so well? We were transmitting scrying messages to Cormanthyr daily about troop movement, and troop strengths. Others’ did the same with Cormyr. We had the most intricate web woven in all of the realms. Nobody could penetrate the magic because it was musically based. Thenedain would get weekly reports.” Kjellinger said. 

“Impressive. Now, tell me about your thoughts for getting out of here. You know they will meet us between here and the barges.” The mage said.

“The best place is at the river, in the ford. We have restricted movement, and they will be uphill of us. What we need, are area affect spells, and defensive spells. I am sure our friends will have brought reinforcements, and more will arrive by tonight. I recommend we reconnoiter the area, and see what surprises they have cooked up.” The bard recommended.

They sat in silence as Kjellinger finished his meal. When he finished, he excused himself, and went back to his studies. His mind did not wander, and he finished with the spell selection he felt appropriate for battle. This was going to be a changing moment in his life. He was aware that two Mages were in the opposition group, and several warriors who would confront them. Kjellinger had some questions he had to ask himself, was he prepared to commit to this course of action. Failure meant death, and the party relied on him. He could not leave them behind as he did with Thenedain. Too much was at stake. The bard knew that Quillan would be the answer when he became old enough. It was an idea, and ideas are what spark the interest of the Binder.

Nothing had come to the skald since he had begun this mission. He was still tired after his studies. The bard lay his head down on the pillow, and immediately fell asleep.

Kjellinger dreamed.

He dreamed he was in a mist laden forest populated with many animals, some ferocious, while others were not. Kjellinger knew not where he was, but heard a faint sound of bells in the distance. Walking in a circle, the bard got his bearings. The song came from one direction. Appealing music guided him as he advanced toward the direction of the music. As the skald did so the sound of the bells changed to that of a flute, but the tune never changed.

The forest gave way to a plane, and the music persisted. As he entered the plane, drums began to beat. His awareness was heightened, as he saw animals begin to stalk him. In the distance of the plane was a hill that had a light radiating from it. Light radiating from the hill removed fear from his heart, and strengthened his resolve to continue to the end.

At the base of the hill, a harp began to play. It was a repetitive tune. The song needed words, and it wedged itself into his mind. As Kjellinger began climbing the hill, the radiated light became brighter. At the top of the hill was a fountain. Water from the fountain spilled into a pool. Beside the pool sat a lone elf who played a silver harp.

As Kjellinger approached the elf, the music stopped. The elf was smiling at the bard. As the elf stood, he placed the silver harp where he had been sitting. The elf approached the skald, and birds began to sing. Familiar bird calls surrounded the pool.

“Ah. Kjellinger. I have waited for you. Your worries will disappear this day. I am Milil.” The elf said.

“Where am I?” The bard asked

“You are in my home, and you and your friends are safe. I am here to present you a message from one who holds you dear.” Milil said.

“This is too confusing. I have heard of you, and worship you, but I follow The Binder. This is not right.” Kjellinger said.

“It is right, and you were asked to come here, by a dear friend of yours, and two who believe you are pivotal in the world in which you live. One of them is the Binder. He I also serve.” Milil said.

Kjellinger scratched his head in complete confusion.

“First a friend would like to meet you.” Milil said.

A figure stepped from behind the fountain. He was familiar, and Kjellinger smiled. “Thenedain!”

Thenedain stepped up to the bard and hugged the friend, and binder of a relationship that founded a kingdom.

Warm tears streamed from the bards face. He never thought he would see his friend again. “You are alive!”

“That I am my friend, in here.” Thenedain said as he patted Kjellinger on the chest where the bard’s heart was. “Your prayers were heard, last night my friend, and they agreed to see you.”

“Who are they?” The skald asked.

“We are they.” Said an unfamiliar voice.

Both warriors turned to see a woman dressed in midnight blue, and the elf. “We have seen your actions and those of your comrades, and we deem them worthy of our involvement on a small scale. I am Mystra.” The woman said.

“What can you do to help me?” Kjellinger asked.

“We will help you succeed. Your cause is worthy in our eyes. The cost is high though.” Milil said.

“What is the cost?” He said with a smile.

“When the progeny of Thenedain reaches an age of learning he must be separated from his mother.” Milil said.

“Why? She is his mother.” The skald said with a straight face.                   

“He will be required to be on his own until he can secure his throne. Cormanthyr is forbidden until he can show leadership.” The woman said.

“Quillan is to be raised a Warrior Priest of Milil, and will not be given the benefit of an elven home.” An elf in priestly garb said. “I will put my mark on him to show this.”

“Quillan is to secure the allegiance of the Betine, they who are the Tuaregs, and live among the desert sands.” The merchant said.

Mystra and Ohgma walked off into the mist and never returned.

“Kjell, tell me about my son.” The guard captain asked.

“He is a beautiful baby boy, and never bothers his mother. He is strong, and resembles his father, my eternal friend.” Kjellinger said.

“I must go.” Thenedain said.

“No. You must return with me my Lord.” The bard pleaded.

“Your loyalty has never wavered, has it?” The once Captain of Scardale’s defense asked.

“I learned from the likes of you. Appearances and intentions can be deceiving, but true action toward another, and concern for their well being is the core of any leader of the Realms.” The skald said with an upright chin.

“You say that with conviction my friend. Go, teach my son. Make him the King I could never be, and have him sit in the throne for which I never tried.” Thenedain said.

“The loss of Scardale was not your fault, my Lord. I have spoken with many who said you were always their leader, and that you never wavered. Even when the Zhentilar penetrated your lines, the Sembians were terrified you would come out and meet them on the field. Your sensibilities forbade the attempt. King Azoun, of Cormyr spoke openly about your ability to defend your responsibility.” Kjellinger said.

The two friends embraced, and smiled. The mist rose, and Thenedain dissolved with the encroaching mist.

Kjellinger awoke to the sound of tapping on the door of his room. It was Boldar checking to see if the bard were all right.

Wiping the sleep from his face the Kjellinger opened the door, and the three lookouts all peered in.

“We heard voices. You got a woman in there we didn’t know about?” Boldar asked.

The skald looked at the three warriors with confusion, and then shook his head. You three are not drinking anything are you?” The bard said as he tipped an invisible glass to his lips.

The three lookouts looked at each other, and shook their heads.

“Xarno needs to see you when you can make the time.” Dinnel said.

Kjellinger nodded, and quickly grabbed his equipment. Kjellinger secured his bandoliers of throwing daggers, and his belt of throwing axes. He picked up his bow, and spare quiver as he made his way to the door. “Saddle up. We need to look at this town. We have been too lazy as it is.” The bard said as he put on his plumed hat.

Xarno was waiting for him. “Have any thoughts on how to approach this?” The mage asked.

“Yes, a three pronged attack. I take the center.  You and Garntay take a flank. We split our forces evenly. Boldar protects Erewan and Quillan while he supports Garntay. Lindisfjarn supports you, and Dinnel covers my back. Area affects, and defensive spells as appropriate.” The skald said

“Any other points?” Xarno asked.

“Yes, fire. We use the morale breaker, and maximize the impact of our attack. We use the buildings of Ashabanford as cover and concealment. I spring the trap when the time is right.  You and Garntay are anvil and hammer.” Kjellinger said.

“Thenedain taught you well.” The mage said.

“I am going to reconnoiter the battle field, and draw up some quick maps.” The bard said.

“Let us know when you return.” Xarno said.

“I will take Lindisfjarn.  He was not in the fracas last night.” The skald said.

Xarno nodded, and went back to speaking with Garntay.

Skald and Lindisfjarn hugged the walls as they worked their way down the corridor. They looked for movement beyond the door of the Inn. Regular foot traffic passed outside the door. The two warriors advanced beyond the door into the street, and looked left and right. Working their way to the right behind the inn, and south to a group of trees, they worked their way through the trees until they came to a road.

Lindisfjarn led the way, and took the two adventurers across the road, through a field, and into another group of trees. They could both make out the inn quite well from where they lay hidden.

“See all that foot traffic coming from that building to the southwest of the inn?” Lindisfjarn asked.

“Yeah, I have no idea what it is, but I think it is a tavern. I want to get a good look at the southern access to the river.” Kjellinger said.

The elven ranger was up again, and moving east. He crossed another road east of the trees, but did so from their most southern side. The ranger led Kjellinger to another stand of trees. From the eastern side of the stand, both had an excellent view of the river. They realized the position they held was poor, and they had to get closer. A mill was just north by northeast of their position. Lindisfjarn worked his way north and east to the south side of the mill. Kjellinger poked his way about the mill, and realized that this was as good as it was going to get.

The mill blocked access to the river, so the two adventurers loosened some boards, and picked their way through the moving mechanism of the mill. Light filtered in through the north side of the building. The north of the mill was being watched by a guard. Others could be seen standing on the opposite side of the ford.

Kjellinger signaled Lindisfjarn to leave the mill. The two adventurers went out the way they came. Both adventurers retraced their steps to the second stand of trees south of the spur from Yeven Trail that connected to the Moon Sea Ride. They continued east to a pool, and then worked their way north between two buildings.

On their right was a wheelwright building, and the building on their left was a merchant’s. Both adventurers crossed the street at an even stride as they walked to the north east to a building with signs designating the building as Jarwain’s imports. They continued between two warehouses, and entered a stand of trees. After passing through the trees, Kjellinger and Lindisfjarn went around a field, and passed between two homes. The two adventurers, led by the ranger, stepped into an empty street just north of the Moon Sea Ride, and worked their way west toward the river. Lindisfjarn walked the center of the street, and was surprised with the lack of foot and equestrian traffic on this street. As the two friends continued westward, they came to a stand of trees that paralleled the riverbank.                                                                           

Their circle took them out of the stand of trees, and north of a field by a barn. They were north of the Moon Sea Ride. Beyond the field to the south as the two adventurers peered around the east side of the barn, were a field, and a tannery beyond that. Several slick toughs party, could be made out standing on the west side of the river. It was assumed a guard was on the north side of the road, next to the tannery, like the guard by the mill was safe.

Kjellinger tapped Lindisfjarn on the shoulder. The ranger saw the bard motioning him back.

In the trees, the two friends considered each others observations. “Is the distance from the west side of the river too far for night vision?” Kjellinger asked.

“I think so.” The ranger said.

“Then the guards have to be eliminated early. The northern group will engage from the east after they enter the street from the tannery.” Kjellinger said as he drew a quick map in the dirt.

“A night attack, we take them by surprise.” Lindisfjarn said with a grin.

“Then we press the attack with our Zhentarim friends.” The skald added.

“Come on! I am buying!” Lindisfjarn said with enthusiasm.

When the two friends returned, their companions were in a foul mood. Gathered, Dinnel and Boldar revealed their concern. “About ten more can be added to the number of our friends.” The warrior priest said.

“Where are they now?” Xarno asked.

“Can we get a map?” Boldar asked.

The bard waved his hand, and a two-dimensional picture, looking down, of the city from what the bard had seen became visible on a wall.

“Excellent.” The Warrior Priest said as he approached the map.

Lindisfjarn pointed out all the known positions, and the easiest way to get to the mill and the tannery. Dinnel pointed out the Zhentarim points of interest, and Boldar added a few of his own.

“Okay, I am out first.” Kjellinger said.

“Why?” Asked Xarno.

“We need a distraction to cover our rear. So I am elected. I will grab Dinnel on my way back to the ford. You wait here.” The bard said as he looked at Dinnel and tapped the area where the front doors of the Ashabanford Arms Inn should be.

“What about the remainder of the party?” Xarno asked.

“We need to decide who is going where?” Lindisfjarn said.

“The ranger and I will take the south side of the Moon Sea Ride. Lindisfjarn knows the interior of the mill.” Said Xarno.

“Elf-friend, that leaves you with me and Erewan on the north side.” Garntay said to Boldar. 

“Good, I will draw the surprise off, and secure our rear. Xarno and Lindisfjarn, you work your way around the Inn, east, and then south by the way we went before. Okay.” Said Kjellinger, looking at the ranger, who nodded in return.

“Garntay, you and Boldar cross here, and work your way to this street. You have further to travel, but fewer obstructions. So you should make the east side of the tannery about the same time they reach the mill. Erewan, you are with Boldar, and stay out of the way. Let them work, and please, please keep Quillan quiet.” The bard said. Everyone nodded.

“Boldar, you get a visual on your guard, and then get a visual on Lindisfjarn. Lindisfjarn, you go on Boldar’s move. We have to be fast people. The guards have to be liquidated. When I catch up, I will spring the trap on our friends. Erewan, you stand right behind me when the fireworks start. You will be protected from missiles and spells. When I am covered by a yellow ball, advance with what you got. Make it stick. Mages and clerics are the major points of interest. Secure our rear, and our flanks before we cross the ford. Make the west shore an ugly place to stand for the opposition. Make sure they know they do not want to be there. Impress them. If Mages or clerics are still operating after our first barrage, focus on them with extreme prejudice.” Kjellinger said as he looked from face to face. He received nervous nods in return.

“We go at one bell after midnight. Prepare your gear, and get some rest.” Xarno said. The mage pulled Kjellinger aside. “I liked the map.  It was an effective idea.”

“It was the only way I could deliver my idea. Thenedain liked it too.” The bard replied.

Lindisfjarn poured the bard a mug of ale, and both smiled.

Armor was tended to.  Weapons were cleaned, and inventoried. Dinnel and Garntay consulted each other about spell usage, and their initial attacks. They decided to alternate spells, and walked away from each other in agreement.

The mage spoke with Dinnel, and gave him the elven chain mail the mage had been carrying for so many decades. The chain fit perfectly on the warrior priest, who was smiling at the new armor he sported.

They ate together in silence, and consumed a light meal. No ale was passed about, and no one smiled. Their thoughts were to themselves, and to the mission they were about to do. Water was sipped, and food was nibbled.

After eating they kept to themselves, and mentally prepared, or rested. The anxiety was thick enough to cut with a knife. By late in the evening, the party was resting with Kjellinger covering the hallway. He could not sleep. The thought of failure was ever present, but success was around the corner. The party had just started their journey, and the interference by the most powerful evil element on Toril, was disheartening. A victory here would bolster the party’s morale, and serve a warning to those who wished to interfere.

A bell sounded twelve times in the distance. Kjellinger went inside the room, and woke everyone quietly.  After clearing the sleep from their heads, final arrangements were made for equipment. Quivers were shouldered, and bows put to the carry. Swords and axes were strapped in close for an easy draw in combat.

Xarno looked about himself, and took in the faces of his comrades. They were well disciplined, and ready. Determination wore like a map on their visages. “Okay Boldar, you call it.” The mage said.

Boldar stepped into the middle of the room, and raised his fist toward the ceiling. The party placed open palms on each other’s hands, and Boldar’s fist “For Quillan! Our rightful King of Scardale!” The dwarf said loudly.

Everyone in the party replied with, “Victory!”

They moved toward the door, and Boldar took the hall first with his bow out. Moving down the left side of the hall in a bounding-over watch, Kjellinger and Lindisfjarn led with Xarno and Erewan covering the rear. At the front door of the inn, a rear guard was established, and Kjellinger winked out of sight.

Silently, the bard peered through the door, and saw the ten warriors lining both sides of the Moon Sea Ride. With a twitch of his finger, the skald sent an illusion of himself out the door, and into the street.                                       

“That’s him! Get him!” A voice said, and arrows thunked into the front of the inn.

Under the cloak of invisibility, Kjellinger sent the illusion down the street toward Hillsfar. Then he turned the figure, and waved at his would be attackers. “You can’t catch me!” The illusion said, and the figure turned and ran toward Hillsfar.

The attackers followed the illusion long enough for Kjellinger to extract a wand out of his sleeve. He pressed a small activating button six times, and said “Rainbow.” As he did so, curtains of colored light similar to a rainbow blocked the street. The curtain comprised colors of the rainbow. Each color in their own individual bands. Its width and height were wider than the street, and taller than the surrounding buildings.

Kjellinger, still invisible, whistled and the illusion stood beside him. The pursuers changed direction, and moved to engage the luminous figure that was making disgusting gestures at the group of Zhentilar.

Three of the pursuers contacted the wall, and proved the dread power of the colored curtain. Two died, and the third became a gibbering fool.

“Go!” Kjellinger hissed, and the members of the party went to their assigned positions.

Kjellinger replaced the wand back into his sleeve pocket, and ran to where Dinnel stood amazed at the events that had just occurred. “Let us go brother!” He said to the warrior priest.

The warrior priest was unsure where he should step for fear of injuring the bard he could not see. “Boldar’s in position.” The warrior priest said.

Both adventurers looked to the mill, and saw Lindisfjarn silently slide a board out of his way. They looked at Boldar who crept silently behind his victim. The dwarf’s dagger buried in his intended victims inner thigh severing the main artery in the man’s leg.

With a scream that was cut short the man fell gurgling as Boldar mercilessly pounded his target with his battle axe. His comrade began to move toward the disturbance and yell as the ranger clamped a hand across his hapless victim’s throat, and buried his dagger into the man’s ear. Lindisfjarn disposed of the body at his feet, and moved toward the river.

The party could see the opposition on the other side of the ford with their night vision. Kjellinger yelled. “Hit ‘em!”

Boldar and Lindisfjarn began loosing arrows at individual targets, supposedly support warriors. The bard cast a stinking cloud spell as a barrier across the river. The High Priest began summoning a call lightning spell. Dinnel cast a spike growth spell on the enemy’s left flank, while the half elven mage Xarno released a fireball that blossomed with a bright orange flame amid the grouped enemy. Knocking some opposition members to the ground.

Lindisfjarn and Boldar again released missiles at their intended targets, taking both targets to the ground. Kjellinger cast a protection from normal missiles’ spell upon himself, and began looking for Erewan who stood dutifully behind the bard. The High Priest’s call lightning spell began, and the battlefield was eerily illuminated in a white-blue light as a Zhentilar warrior crumpled under the energy of the blast. Dinnel cast continual light onto a stone. The mage released a lightning bolt into the poorly disciplined Zhentilar.

Ranger and dwarf launched missiles from their bows, as their arrows crossed the river seeking new targets. Garntay cast a rock to mud spell on a rocky shelf that protected the enemy’s right flank. As the High Priest watched a man become inundated by a wall of mud, which whisked the man into the river. The warrior priest threw the now glowing rock, into the midst of the Zhentilar. This illuminated the old mage from the inn, who could be seen beginning to cast a spell. Xarno blasted the old man, with a magic missile.

Dinnel joined the ranger, and the dwarf with a missile barrage, all focused on the elderly mage across the river. The skald cast a minor globe of invulnerability on himself. Garntay unleashed a pillar of fire onto the elderly mage who collapsed into a cinder. The woman Boldar kicked in the stomach ran forward, and tried to cross the river. Xarno unleashed his last fireball at the woman who was now choking in the stinking cloud, and she was incinerated.

The bard pointed to Erewan “Stay with Dinnel.” He advanced to the river where his stinking cloud spell was beginning to dissipate. A tall figure loomed on the far shore of the river as the bard began crossing the river.

“I will kill you all!” The figure yelled.

Kjellinger stood, and stared at the tall human. “Pray what is your name human, before I kill you, and rid this world of your pestilence.” He said.

“I am Tarek, and since you are unarmored I will make quick work of you!”

The bard cast stone skin on himself.

“You wish to prove yourself against me little half-breed?” Tarek said menacingly.

“Yes, I do!” The skald said as he glared at his opponent. “For Thenedain!” Kjellinger yelled, and drew a throwing axe.

Tarek closed the distance, and Kjellinger drew a throwing dagger.

The tall warrior attacked, and the bard parried the warrior’s blow. Then Kjellinger rolled out from the attack, and launched his throwing dagger that buried in the tall warrior’s wooden shield. Both combatants crashed into each other, and weapons sparked as they parried blows. The bard-controlled center, and forced the tall warrior back. Tarek pressed home his attack, and made harmless contact with the bard. Magic from the stone skin spell protected the bard’s life. The tall warrior again charged Kjellinger, but the bard ducked the attack sending the tall warrior flying over the skald’s shoulder. Tarek landed hard, sprawling on the shore of the river.

The skald whirled, and launched his axe and throwing dagger. The throwing axe was high, but the throwing dagger hit Tarek in the arm. Tarek flinched as the dagger buried in his forearm. He quickly yanked the weapon free of his arm, and smeared his blood on his armor. Kjellinger drew his long sword, and Tarek stood up ready to charge.  Kjellinger was loose, and ready to fight. He had enough of this display, and readied himself to receive the attack.

The tall warrior charged in with a swirling display of swordsmanship. The bard parried the blows from the tall warrior with ease, and stepped forward for a better position. Tarek countered by applying power to his furious blows. Kjellinger blocked a blow with his arm, at Tarek’s wrist, and took control of the warrior’s body, pushing Tarek away from him as Kjellinger slid the long sword between the warrior’s ribs.

A spasm wracked the tall warrior, as Kjellinger’s blade stole his life. The tall warrior’s breath escaped his lungs, and a hissing squeal of pain and blood passed his lips as the warrior dropped his weapon, and slid off the bard’s sword onto the beach. His blood running warm and lifelessly into the sand.

Kjellinger wiped his sword blade off on Tarek’s clothing. A scream came from behind the party as seven Zhentilar warriors charged toward the party from the rear. Xarno spun around, and sized the situation. Then he cast a purely offensive spell, and a jet of icy wind blasted forth from his fingers. A cone of cold ripped into the Zhentilar, and two men fell. The dwarf, Dinnel, and Lindisfjarn joined against the charging rabble, and launched their missiles at the remaining five. Xarno released a lightning bolt in the midst of the foes, and the center three men fell toasted to cinders.

The dwarf, warrior priest, and ranger discarded their bows, and engaged in melee combat. Boldar ducked under a blow, and cross bodied his attacker. Dinnel parried a blow, and let the attacker taste the warrior priest’s elbow. Lindisfjarn simply parried his attacker’s blow, and punched the attacker in the nose. Taking the attackers life at the first opportunity, Boldar used his immense strength to break his opponent’s neck.

Dinnel continued to attack his opponent aggressively. With a move taught by Thenedain, the warrior priest rotated the left wrist of his opponent, and stepped backwards by stepping back on his right foot. The opponent was sent to the ground face first. As the Zhentilar tried to stand, Dinnel broke the elbow with a quick bash to the straightened limb.