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From the Cloudpeaks, it is a very long trip back to civilization. I decide to stop by Nashkel on my way back north.



I want to talk to Karaea and possibly buy some more boots. But when I get there, I can't find her anywhere!



I ask around and some people say that she went to Baldur's Gate. The city must be open again. I'll have to catch up with her later, I guess.

We gotta go back to the Jovial Juggler then. What else is there to do?



When we get there, Coran greets us boisterously and cheerily. He tells us of a wonderful place he's heard of, a place of mystery and intrigue, and of fantastical loot. He says we should go to Firewine Bridge! He even offers to lead us there. I can't say no to Coran, so we let Xzar go and get ready for adventure.



Your company was missed by all. Welcome back to the group.

Ah, old friends made new again. A pairing that cannot be beaten.

We give him the +3 Longbow Vibradeath. We also give him 3 long swords: Fire Biter, Varscona, and the Spiderbane. That will give him fire and ice damage should he require it, and the option for free action as well. He also gets the Cloak of the Assassin and an Amulet of Protection. Finally his armor is the Shadow Armor +3 from the Shadow Thieves of Amn. Coran is loaded for bear.



The very next morning we set out for Firewine Bridge.



It is a full 24 hours of traveling. When we arrive, we don't get to rest. Some strange, new monsters assault us just as we get within sight of the bridge.



As I begin to cast a spell, Imoen is hit with a poison arrow!



She drinks an antidote and is fine. I let loose my wild spell, which I hope to be Vile Word of Discord. It... isn't.



I guess that means I should lay off these poor, unfortunate souls. I grasp my staff and prepare for melee. Two desert trolls join the fight against Kagain.



Yeslick lets loose with a Chant, and the battle is truly on.



The two dwarves hold off one set of trolls and Finch holds off the other. But she is hit for her trouble.



Finch is hit again. She tries to heal herself.



Finch successfully heals herself and the first troll drops. But it doesn't die.



I know what to do, though. We studied trolls at Candlekeep, in Dungeoneering 210. They need to be hit with fire to fully be destroyed. I level my staff at it. I burn it and it drops. Then I rush in to help Finch on her front.



My Elemental Staff of Fire is able to drop the second troll as well.



A hobgoblin arrow poisons me. Damn those sniping bastards. I chug an antidote.



A repeat poisoning and antidote chug a few seconds later forces me to cast Mirror Images to get away from the poison arrows. At the same time, Finch takes out her second troll.



Then we all turn to take out the last threat, before starting on the annoyances.



The annoyances don't last long.



And after that, Coran starts kinda freaking us all out.



I... I do not see anyone. Do you, Coran?

Yes, I see... er... I saw her. To be more exact, I have seen her vanishing into the mists and heard her singing. She sounded sad. Perhaps she needs help. Let us go search for her - she went in that direction, eastwards.

I see... A ghostly damsel in distress. Let me know if you spot her again.

Wonderful! I wonder, what was her name?

We start to take a look around. We find a sign proclaiming this place to really be Firewine Bridge. It is a rather arid region.



There is also a cleric of Ilmater here.



No, none of us worship Ilmater.

So none of you venerate Ilmater. Well then, we must rectify this at once. Listen closely while I tell you the wonders that will come once you have converted to Ilmater's faith.

Now, as you've probably heard, Ilmater is the god of suffering. Most people immediately perceive this as the suffering one must endure themselves, but trust me, the stories you have heard are most likely wild and unrealistic. Suffering in the service of Ilmater does eventually come, but Lo! It is the most joyful of sensations, and opens your eyes to wisdom. Once you have suffered in the service of Ilmater, you will have your eyes opened to the evils of the world. Evils such as avarice, greed, lust, perversity, and most especially magic! By magic, I mean not the holy power granted by Ilmater, but rather the wicked powers wielded by sorcerers!

Hey!

Excuse us, but some of us are sorcerers.

Some of you are sorcerers! By all that's good and holy, you must stop your evil ways. Magic only leads to pain and misery, it is a wicked art I tell you... a wicked art. Though I find it painful to stand in the presence of such vile necromancers, I will continue my sermon.

Necromancers?!

All you have to do to become a faithful of Ilmater is to cast off your worldly possessions. You will wander the world, and suffer in the place of others. You will spread the word as I have spread it to you. Well, what think you? Will you cast off your possessions and become a faithful of Ilmater?

Sorry old man, but we have better things to do.

You are foolish in your decision; your minds obviously clouded by the numerous vices all of you must engage in. I pity the whole lot of you. Goodbye!

Give up my magic? The Weave is evil? The more I think about it the more upset I become. What the hell man? Why would he say such things!? I walk off in a bit of a huff, not caring where I'm going until I see vampiric wolf ahead of me.



Oh, a vampiric wolf LORD. Crap!



I do NOT want to deal with constant fear. I goop him.



Then I try to follow it up with a Chromatic Orb.



I try again, this time with Magic Missile.



I don't think it was me turned to stone. Perhaps the jelly? I try again.



My magic missiles slam into Yeslick!



I do what I should have done first - Chaos Shield.



My next cast the Weave flows through me and into all of our weapons, giving them a magical glow.



We are just simply not able to damage the vampiric wolf lord enough through magical means, and the spell wears off. It immediately calls the dead to aid it.



Shade wolves appear!



One of them starts munching on my back, so I cast Gymlainac's Lightbend to compensate. At the same time, Finch kills the vampiric wolf lord.



The shade wolves are actually pretty easy to kill. Imoen is the only injury there.



We continue our search for a ghost woman for Coran to woo. Why am I even doing this? Imoen spots another troll.



The first one is down in a moment.



The others in a moment more.



Trolls are just not a threat to us who have plenty of fire-damage weapons. We succeed in exploring all of the outer lip of this area. It looks like it used to be a river, but is now just part of another arid region.



We decide to explore the dried-out riverbed next. The sun goes down as we are descending into the area. Ominous. But the only thing we run into is a pack of kobolds. They are all bunched up and dying for a Fireball, so I try to give them one.



Instead, the Weave turns me into a wolf. A wolf with fleas!



Fine. Melee it is! The rest of us join in the attack on the kobolds. Their shaman confuses Kagain.



Then, in the next spell, he confuses Coran. I rush towards him to take him out. I am a full-on wolf after all! But he is protected by two greater ghouls?!



Finch takes time out from her busy schedule of pounding kobolds into mush to Silence the kobold scribe.



The greater ghouls start hurting me, so I rush back to the group. But the group is in disarray! Three people seem to be missing. I am only taking the ghouls towards Imoen! I turn back to head them off and get a vicious swipe at my muzzle.



I run south to try to distract the ghouls. Imoen reaches for her neck... her necklace!



One ghoul immediately attacks the wyvern but barely injures it.



I can run pretty fast still as a wolf, so I loop back around and get the ghoul that is following me interested in the wyvern instead.



I can't believe the kobold scribe is still alive and casting spells. I can't believe it keeps doing that while being completely protected under a Sanctuary. I grasp my Wand of Fire in my jaws and blast him real quick.



Finch is retreating from her fight with her own greater ghoul, and rushes by the wyvern. The wyvern manages to twist around in the air and obliterate the greater ghoul in one blow.



That's when I hear a shout of dismay from Imoen. She is ambushed by three trolls!



The wyvern finishes with the greater ghoul and moves towards the trolls. I and Finch try to heal ourselves. The other party members are still confused and wandering these wastes. Well, all except for Coran. He's taking potshots at Imoen!



An almost dead kobold captain comes limping up to me. At least this I can handle. I whack him over the head and he drops. But then I see the kobold scribe, apparently decked out in double fire shields. Holy Weaveus what is going on here?!



A chromatic orb flies at me from him and hits me. Ouch!



Then Yeslick comes back to his senses and I think everything is going to be alright.



Coran too!



The Book of Rhialto is enough to dispel this jumped-up kobold's protections, and I move in for the kill. I will mash this bastard's head in.



It casts Chromatic Orb at me again, but I don't even care.



Yeslick begins making everything alright.



The little bastard begins to run, but it doesn't save him.



Back at the main battle, the last of the trolls are dead. Go team Syvishtara!

We explore the rest of the dry riverbed, but don't find anything else.



There is nothing left to do but explore the bridge itself.



Imoen is in awe.



I'm still wondering how they built it.

Um... yeah...

*grumble* 'Tisn't so grand. We Dwarves've been buildin' grander bridges'n this centuries afore this were supposed ta be built. Why, I'd be none too surprised ta find that many a Dwarven mason were hired fer the job.

Wow. So did your clan ever build something like this?

O' course they did lass! Jus' cos our holds're underground don't mean we don't need bridges! Why, when our clan first settled, our minin' uncovered an open cavern, five thousand feet across, easy! And it be goin' down at least a thousand in the shallow parts. No way to cross it, either... no way to gets ta the ore that were surely beyond, nor bring it back. So we got our best stonemason ta build a bridge, an' glory below, what a bridge it was.

Five thousand feet?? That's... wow. How'd he do it?

'Twas such a grand achievement, 'twas made into a short saga as part o' th' histories o' th' clan... but the tellin'd best wait till night, over th' campfire, where I can tell parts at a time.

Why? How long is it?

Oh, not long at all. If I leave out all the technical details, it'd take little less than a week...

As we cross the bridge, I notice two people standing about. One of them looks like a caster, and one like a fighter. I approach the caster, cautiously.



Aye, it would be a fine time to hear your tale. Sing on, young bard.

Wonderful! Stand relaxed and I shall relate it to you! It was a poetic treatise I should like to call "The Knights of Days Hence." Ehh... I know the title needs work, but the soul of the piece is right and true!

I've a tale, a tale to tell
of Knights so bold and dungeon hell and slumber broke upon the shore
of nightmare's reef when dawn no more.

A story true of courage lack,
and footing lost on virtue's track and trailing far but near to fear
a vengeance scream through night to ear.

The swordsmen came by two and four
to take their fight to evil's core with confidence in might and right
went bravely forward spreading light.

But light alone canst clear the path
when suffers all a hellish wrath from deep below whence fires came,
still none above dare speak the name.

Together fought, together fell
'til good had won, though stories tell the cursed tale of treachery
when evil stole the victory.

Heroes bold betrayed behind
from friend made foe with gold in mind to take and plunder riches won.
'Twas evil new, though old undone.

In glory slept the hero knights
but knife to throat did snuff the lights behind their eyes, a simple deed.
'Twas honor dead as killed by greed.

Strong enough to break a vow,
alone with gold he struggled now to leave his dungeon deed and hide.
Alone he fell; alone he died.

Widows weep and orphans cry
and bards oft sing as maidens sigh for want of heroes lost below
that haunt in sleep with ghostly glow.

On guard the guard eternal stand
though neither see nor sense the land before their eyes beyond their age
they wait with unbelieving rage.

When one for all turns all for one
the injured souls take solace none in death's release so stand they will,
'til honor's need someone dost fill.

Together enter, together fall.
'Tis as the vow agreed by all and all must stand and wait in time
for one that ran to face the crime.

I have not been, but have been told
of Knights of days gone past so bold to warrant heartfelt prayers from thee,
that rogue's return might set them free.

Bard, your ballad brought to my mind the story of Elf-King Echtellion and the Songstress Inga Highwing.

I would fancy to hear this tale, Master Elf.

There is a small settlement of Belgarden in Cormyr, on the lands that now are claimed by humans, but of old, they were Elven. One cruel battle was fought there thousands of years ago, ere the Crown Wars. And in it, the fairest and mightiest elf, King Echtellion, was slain - in some noble fashion, of course.

To commemorate him, Alaundalion the artist carved a statue to put on his grave. He was said to be in love with Echtellion's sister, and therefore, to please her, he did her bidding and made the statue very lifelike, against the Elven tradition - for we all know that Elves have little talent for the exact depicting of the features, as they ever try to capture the spirit.

The sister of the King, wise Ogneda, was enamored with Alaundalion's work, and she quite often came to honor her brother and lay flowers by the statue's feet. It is believed that Ogneda later became mad, convincing herself that the dead stone was her brother. The magic was strong in her, and aided by her insanity, she turned into a banshee.

The centuries passed, and even Elves, with their long memories, now have little recollection of King Echtellion and his deeds. Yet the statue stood, as whole as it was on the day of its carving. Many a person came, throughout the years, to see the monument, and went away in wonder.

Inga Highwing stayed.

The image of the long-dead King captivated her so much that she wanted to know all there was to know about him. She pieced together what shreds of lore she could find, but that was an unsatisfactory harvest. In her love for the King, Inga wrote her own songs about him, and came to his statue every day, at sunrise, to sing to his stone image.

One night, when she was in the middle of a particularly moving ballad, oh, wonder! The statue stepped down from the column on which it stood and walked over to Inga. Echtellion lived again!

The small crowd that gathered round went so quiet that a snowflake's fall would have broken the silence. Echtellion's voice had not grown hoarse with disuse, and the whole gathering hearkened to the words he said to Inga Highwing:

"Seldarine, have mercy on me! You wail worse than my sister!"

Wh-what?

I wince. Coran is such an ass sometimes.

Do not despair, bard. Bad poetry has the power to turn stone to flesh and raise dead...

Now, Syvishtara, were you going to say something?

And it better be g-good.

I have pity on the poor bard. He just got emotionally eviscerated by Coran.

A rousing tale! Please, take this 10 gold that I might finance your further travels.

You are certainly too kind. A VERY good day to you on your travels!

I turn away from the bard, and look for the fighter. He seems to be pacing back and forth. I catch him mid-pace.



I-- I killed him. But he's out there, he's coming this way, I can f-- feel it.

I was a paladin, once. I fought on the side of good but it all comes to naught... I-- I killed him, my brother in the faith... I was jealous, I was... foolish. When he comes, let him be. At least there will be justice then.

Are we talking vengeful ghosts here? I'm not sure how comfortable I am with letting ghosts get the upper hand on the living. They might get uppity - get ideas. They might start charging protection money. We'll have to see.