Banjo took Leadership. His sidekick is a drow bard...
“Well
this disappoints, yes? I thought you’d
be female.”
Banjo
looked up from the runes on Banrhialorg.
The speaker was a stunner of a drow, clad in what looked to his eye as
typical adventuring gear. He glanced
around the tavern to be sure his friends were about. Clint was ensconced at the bar, and met
Banjo’s gaze with a squinty-eyed glance from under his ridiculous hat. He didn’t see Thurstan but the great gray
Mister Wolf was nearby. There was no
sign of Dargoth.
He
leaned back in his chair, both to get a better regard of the woman and to give
himself time to consider offensive spells.
“You sound like my father,” he said.
“What do you want?”
She
smiled and gracefully took the chair opposite him. “I merely wish to serve.”
He
rolled his eyes. “You’ve picked the
wrong adventurer to play word games with.
Get to the point or piss off.” He
raised Banrhialorg upright and let the lightning and fire play about the head.
Her
eyes widened, regarding the miniature lighting playing about the eyes of the
dragon-headed staff. “This is a threat,
you give?”
He
shrugged, causing odd shadows to flicker and dance from the lightning and
firelight. “A little.”
She
smiled again and looked him in the eye.
“Good. It is a fear I have: that
because you are male your bowels be watery and spine all soft.”
“Ha!”
he snorted, grinning. “I have been
accused of being a bit too brash, if anything.
So what are you doing—“
“I have
been given vision by the Goddess,” she interrupted. “To aid you in your quest.”
His grin
vanished, replaced by a scowl. “The
Spider Queen bade you—“
“Why is
it when you surfacers hear a drow speak of Goddess, you think Spider Queen?”
“Because
it’s usually the case? What god, then?”
Her
smile turned seductive. “Calistria.”
He
frowned. He knew just enough about gods
to use their names in bawdy curses.
“Calistria is…?”
“Elvish
goddess of trickery, lust, and revenge,” Thurstan interjected, appearing on his
right. “Who’s yer friend?” he asked,
jerking his chin at the woman.
“Uh, she
didn’t—“
“My
name is Natalya,” she said. She regarded
Thurstan’s bearded countenance coolly.
“Who are you?”
“Your
goddess gave you a vision and you don’t know our names?” Banjo asked.
“The
Goddess gave me a vision of you, Bonjerus
Valerae,” she replied, stabbing the air with a small finger. She waved her hand dismissively. “Your servants are of minor consequence.”
“Servants?!”
Thurstan, Clint, and Dargoth interjected.
Clint and Dargoth appeared suddenly on his left, while Thurstan and his
great wolf stood on the right. Natalya
and Banjo were the only ones seated.
He
didn’t bother stifling his laughter.
“They are not my
servants. If they were, we’d all be a
lot richer,” he muttered, shooting a glare at Clint.
Clint
shrugged. “Or less rich, and still
recovering from our wounds,” he said coolly.
“Or dead.”
“Or
dead,” Dargoth agreed.
“Or
dead,” Thurstan grunted.
“Hey,
easy!” Banjo exclaimed. The men
chuckled.
Natalya smiled. “You surfacers are very funny, yes.”
“So let us get this straight,
ma’am,” Clint said. “Your Goddess gave
you a vision. In that vision, she told
you to follow Bonjerus Valerae and aid him in whatever manner you can. That about sum it up?”
She smiled again. “This is true, yes. Bonjerus Valerae only, nothing about his
servants—or companions.”
Clint turned from her and gave
Banjo a raised-eyebrow look, to say “it’s up to you.” He frowned and regarded the woman again. She certainly was nice to look at—but most
drow would use that to get you to let your guard down. On the other hand, it would be nice to have a
native guide here in the Underdark, since it seemed they were destined to go
deeper and deeper in.
On the other hand – he shrugged and
looked up at Thurstan. “What the hell?”
“Yeah what the hell,” Dargoth interjected. “The first guy she kills will be you and
that’ll be our warning!”
Banjo rolled his eyes.
“That is not true,” Natalya
said. “If I were to kill anyone, I would
save Bonjerus Valerae for last.”
