![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_sporking2. Previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
Warning: This chapter contains deaths, violence against humans and animals, and Torm being gross.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s All Shadows Fled! Last time, Elminster, Sharantyr, Sylune and the Harpers got caught in a magical trap in order to clumsily timeskip them forward to the Battle of Shadowdale, some Malaugrym who we’ll never see again schemed and were generically evil, Elminster gave our heroes their assignments for the coming battle, and we learned that Torm of the Knights of Myth Drannor had, surprising no one, been acting like a creep with a construct copy of Sylune’s body. Sigh. Today, it’s time for Sylune to take possession of said body, and for the battle to begin. Joining us as usual will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Two: Bodies, Fresh and Otherwise
Errezha: Considering this is Greenwood writing, I’m going to assume we’ll be seeing rather more of “otherwise.” We open in Mistledale, Flamerule 15 as someone is coming to:
It was horribly dark and somehow dusty, followed by a whirling moment of wrenching pain that became a red agony in her chest, rising up to choke her. Threads of pain rolled down limbs stiff from disuse to an aching forest of fingertips … and then light and sound suddenly burst and swam all around her. The Witch of Shadowdale found herself blinking back tears. She had a body again!
Errezha: *flatly* Don’t get too excited; I somehow doubt it will last. Oh, and it turns out that this is A body Torm had obviously just finished dressing in a black lace cutaway gown that left her bare there and there and there.… *glances down at her own outfit, that covers everything below the neck* Now, I understand that most people are perhaps not as… uncomfortable… with such things as I am, but even so… can you kill him for me? Maim him, at least? I don’t even want to know what all he’s been doing to this body, a body he knows you’ll be using and is not his damned doll. But at least Sylune gets some revenge as she spots Torm facing away from her, admiring a red lace garter – I don’t even want to know – and she manages to get up, wrap her arms around him from behind, while whispering in his ear that she’s come for him. Which has a distinct lack of killing or maiming, alas, but does scare Torm enough that he shrieks and leaps into the air, so I suppose I’ll take it.
Calassara: You know, I doubt I’d mind wearing the outfit as described… but considering in context this is essentially Torm playing dress-up with what might as well be Sylune’s corpse (or at best her unconscious body – how lifelike is it without her spirit animating it, anyway?)… that is rather disturbing. But you’ll be pleased to know that as Torm whirls around Sylune knees him in the groin before plopping herself back down on the bed, feeling rather pleased with herself. Like my companion, I do approve… sadly, this scene seems to be being played entirely for laughs, so once again, I don’t think Greenwood quite realizes how gross his characters are actually acting… Finally Torm, in obvious pain, manages to sit up and asks if it really is Sylune, and she confirms it is, which is why he’s still alive (I don’t know, it being Sylune’s body he’s been using as a toy would seem to make her more likely to feel vengeful than a spirit who just possessed what happened to be available, in my eyes!). He does at least have the grace to apologize – not nearly enough, in my opinion! – and Sylune accepts, though she calls him lecherous scum. Which he is, but she seems to be meaning it oddly… affectionately? Or at least Torm takes it that way, as he laughs happily in response. Why can Greenwood characters never seem to react appropriately to anything?
Errezha: Do you really want an answer to that? Sylune asks Torm why he wasn’t wearing one of his flamboyant codpieces – oh, by the Prince – and he says he wasn’t dressed yet. Sylune gestures at herself and asks if that is his idea of “dressed,” and he replies she hasn’t complained before, and how is this still getting creepier, why was this man amusing himself with dressing what was effectively an unconscious woman in skimpy outfits? *narrows her eyes* I think I can guess; Sylune, you haven’t hurt him nearly enough. Sylune does say she’s complaining now and then, utterly inexplicably, orders Torm to undress her. And to give her a massage when he’s done, as her new body is stiff. Woman, you know what he is and what he’s done, and five minutes ago you were angry enough about it to knee him in the groin quite painfully for it, and now you want his hands all over you? Is there a relationship here of which I am blissfully unaware or are, as my companion has noted, Greenwood’s characters simply incapable of normal humanoid reactions to things? *buries her face in her hands* Let us say that if a man did this to a copy of my body that he knew my consciousness would soon be inhabiting… well, I would not be asking him to do this. I will leave what I would do to your imagination.
Calassara: *sighs* Oh, why must you tease me so… Ahem. Well, it turns out that Torm has been brushing Sylune’s hair, and she compliments him on how well he’s been taking care of it. I… suppose that’s nice? And then he starts waxing poetic about how much he just loves the Seven Sisters’ silver hair and has always wanted to touch it but never dared ask any of them… and now we’re back to this being remarkably creepy. I feel like I’m repeating myself, but these women are not your dolls, Torm! But Sylune is flattered, and Torm says that it was an honor caring for your body and oh, is that what they call it now? And then Sylune reminds him to get back to work, as he strips her – why can’t she do this herself, again? – though at least he points out that the stone that lets her control the body is in her arm (which prompts her to pray for the gods to bless Elminster, because of course it does). She refuses to pray for Torm, when he asks… but she does kiss him, deeply, with tongue. I… am finding myself increasingly confused by the dynamic of this relationship. Possibly because Greenwood just wanted to write this… curious sequence of events… and didn’t give a damn what characters he was forcing to act it out. Sylune does admit she only did it because it’s been so long since she’s had a body to kiss anyone with, which I suppose is fair… but even so, I’m sure she can do better!
Errezha: And this scene, which is short but feels like it drags on, continues as Sylune complains about how Torm’s mouth tastes, and he wonders what she’s even doing here if she thinks he tastes so bad (need I remind you that her body was here? And you were doing… things… with it?) while going through a wardrobe looking for clothes, since he doesn’t think she wants to go outside naked. *flatly* With Greenwood writing, you never can be certain… Sylune doesn’t think that would damage her reputation any more, after what Torm’s been doing, and asks if Illistyl knows about this. Illistyl… that was Jhessail’s apprentice, I believe? And I do seem to recall she and Torm may have been an item… which somehow makes his behavior all the more disturbing, since this is a man with an actual girlfriend… They lock gazes, and Torm is suddenly reminded that this woman is centuries older than him and is appropriately intimidated. He promises to give her that neck rub and says she can fight Zhents naked if she wants (I’m sure it’s what her author wants…) and Sylune says she won’t if everyone is looking at her like he's been, and why is this still going on? Torm then starts giving her the massage; Sylune wonders how he knows she loves the scent of cloves (which is relevant… how, exactly?) and if Elminster told him; he corrects her that he’s a thief, and I remain unclear what that has to do about him knowing what smells she likes. But Sylune bursts out laughing, and the scene finally comes to an end. Thank the Prince.
Calassara: …I wouldn’t be thanking anyone just yet; the chapter is, after all, far from done! We cut to Daggerdale, still on Flamerule 15, where we find ourselves in a quite different place:
Valaster’s Stand had thrust lancelike into the eastern Daggerdale sky for an age and more, and bid fair to do so for a long time to come. Long before Valaster had chosen to die there, the stand had been an arrowhead-shaped ridge that rose sharply upward as it ran northwest, to end in a jagged, overhanging point of rock under which many a traveler had camped. Wiser folk kept to the thick stand of shadowtop trees that marched up its back, and so stayed hidden from the eyes of predators. The trees on the edge of the rocky point were dead or dying. Their bare branches thrust up into the sky like the gnarled fingers of a dead man, a popular roost for birds of prey. Two large and dusty buzzards sat side by side there now. Many another raptor circled, squalling at the buzzards’ refusal to leave, and then flew off in search of other perches.
Calassara: And it happens the buzzards don’t leave because they’re deep in conversation with one another, confirming that these are not buzzards at all, but rather Malaugrym. What a twist! One of them is complaining that they need a mage to return to the Plane of Shadows (weren’t all the Malaugrym meant to be powerful mages themselves?) while the other is worried that any mage they might find and coerce might betray them. Not to mention that the elders might not be happy if they allowed a mortal to open a way back to the castle. The Malaugrym continue arguing about how to go about finding a mage and the difficulties inherent in infiltrating human cities when they know so little of human culture, at which point we learn that one of them is Atari and the other Yinthrim. Suddenly, they’re interrupted by the approach of another bird, a large eagle; Atari wonders if eagles eat buzzards, but the eagle suddenly speaks as well, wondering if they intend to do anything but sit around feeling sorry for themselves. And the eagle, of course, is none other than Ahorga… son of Yerga.
Errezha: And father of Huerbara… will we be seeing her again, I wonder, or has Greenwood forgotten her, too? But Ahorga reveals he’s been listening in on their conversation and wonders if this is all they mean to do; Yinthrim would rather sit and make plans than go blundering into the Red Wizards, the Zhentarim, or Elminster and his friends, which meets with Ahorga’s approval. And mine; Greenwood villains rarely have such foresight. I wonder how long it will take him to ruin it? Atari wants to know how many of them came through with them – Ahorga doesn’t know of any others, but thinks that some may have their other, separate ways to Faerun. Didn’t we know that already? I think we noted last time that the Malaugrym have never seemed to have difficulty traversing the planes before, it was only Dhalgrave’s decrees and fear of Elminster that kept the away. Atari wonders if any of them would be interested in joining them to seek revenge on the three rangers or Elminster, but Ahorga says they will not, and he won’t, either. He thinks that rushing headlong into battle will just get them killed, and he wants to explore Faerun for a while first before making his move. And this is different from Yinthrim’s original plan how, exactly?
Calassara: *shrugs* Don’t ask me to fathom the workings of a Greenwood character’s mind – I’m quite lost already! He goes on to tell Atari to go after the rangers if he must, but to make sure he gathers plenty of spells and magic items first, and practice impersonating humans so he doesn’t get caught. And if he underestimates mortal mages, that’s probably what will happen. Ahorga then excuses himself, promising to see them again if they survive, and warns them that ambush is their best – and, against Elminster, only – tactic. Like Errezha, I find myself amazed at this level of foresight and can only speculate as to when and how it will go wrong. Yinthrim promises to practice ambushes on unsuspecting targets, again meeting Ahorga’s approval; he then flies off, and Atari wonders if human wizards are really as dangerous as Ahorga said, while Yinthrim thinks they’re not, but Ahorga just wanted them to be careful. Considering what we’ve already seen the likes of Elminster and the Simbul do, I would have to say… no, he wasn’t really exaggerating at all. Unfortunately. Atari grows a tentacle just long enough to make a rude gesture in Ahorga’s direction, then flies off to find something to ambush, both for practice and because he’s hungry, and the scene ends there.
Errezha: And so, we do not get a time and location stamp for this scene, and no, I do not know why. There seems little consistency for what is labelled, and what is not. We do, however, get some descriptions:
Verdant farms stretched away on both sides of the road, which ran like a sword blade down the length of Mistledale. Along the backs of those prosperous steadings stood the unbroken green wall of the encircling Elven Court woods. On this bright morning Mistledale was a beautiful place to ride, with a good mount moving strongly beneath the saddle—even if the rider rode in the midst of a solid ring of ebon-armored warriors, who took care to keep their armored forms between her and any possible attack.
Errezha: What a charming rural scene, riders and all! Well, we soon learn that the character in the midst of all these riders is the mage Jhessail of the Knights of Myth Drannor, and her apprentice Illistyl is muttering irritably behind her (I can relate…). We also learn that Torm apparently supplied Jhessail with a new riding outfit and breeches… why is Torm suddenly the expert in fashion this chapter? From how he treated Sylune, Jhessail should count herself lucky her new clothes are decent for public view! Suddenly, the riders around them call for a stop with their weapons out, while Jhessail is unamused.
“Thank you for your kind concern, Gentlesirs,” she said as the horses slowed to a rather jarring trot, “but both Illistyl and I find it rather hard to do any scouting or become familiar with the land around us—land you gallants already know well, but which we’ve seen only once or twice in passing—through a solid wall of plate armor.”
Errezha: And if you are actually under attack, or about to be, then these people will be the only thing standing between you and death, so perhaps let them do their jobs? The patrol leader, Kuthe, rightly points out that Jhessail is unarmed and unarmored, but she just says she needs to scout the area and can’t do that while they’re all clustered around her, and she’s saving her scrying spells for the battle. Why Jhessail, of all people, is scouting at all – I believe the Knights have several very qualified rangers among their ranks? – I remain unsure on. Jhessail goes on to claim that as an adventurer she’s taken far worse risks than this, and I remain unmoved. Kuthe tries to point out the little lass, meaning Illistyl, and she threatens to punch out his teeth if he calls her that again. And once again, from where I stand, this man is trying to do his job, which is to keep the two of you alive, and I am not certain what they’re actually trying to accomplish. I promise you, I only threaten to punch the teeth out of a man’s mouth when he’s done something to deserve it.
Calassara: Perhaps it’s simply that they dare to mildly inconvenience the great Knights of Myth Drannor? For some reason, all of Kuthe’s men laugh at the teeth-punching threats, and then one of them points out that a rider is coming; Jhessail recognizes her husband Merith, which apparently is the sign that the reinforcements Elminster was sending them (which is to say, our merry band of bunglers) have arrived. When Kuthe asks how many reinforcements, Jhessail just says four and then everyone laughs at his confusion. Seriously, what has this man done to earn everyone’s animosity? One of the riders, though, suddenly points to the edge of the nearby trees, where a small merchant company has emerged, fleeing from someone shooting crossbow bolts at them from behind. Jhessail watches one of the merchants – who, for some reason, Greenwood feels the need to point out is fat – get shot, along with one of the horses, and then she and the riders charge. But as Kuthe is calling for the merchants to get out of the way, she tells him to stop – of course! – and that she has a plan.
Errezha: *muttering* Whatever Mistledale is paying this man… he deserves more. But Kuthe calls his men to halt and asks Jhessail what she’s up to – while the merchants are still dying up ahead, wonderful – and she asks for room. She and Illistyl ride forward, raising their hands and chanting incantations. And nothing happens. Kuthe demands to know if they’ve seen enough, but Jhessail thinks they need to wait for the Zhents to come out, rather than go charging into their line of fire. And, sure enough, a group of around sixty black-armored Zhentilar warriors come riding out of the trees shortly after. The merchants, by the way, are all dead now. I’m sure they’re just so thankful for Jhessail stopping Kuthe from charging so she could enact her little scheme! Jhessail tells Kuthe to hold his men steady until she gives the word. One of the riders asks who she is to give them orders – an excellent question – and she just says they’ll die if they ride forward now. Kuthe says they’ll wait and tells his men to raise their shields. The Zhents start shooting, and then Jhessail casts her spell.
Abruptly the air in front of the Riders was full of shadowy, moving forms—images that suddenly grew dark and solid; the gleaming black armored backs of Riders on horseback, charging away with lances lowered. More than one mount under the real Riders surged forward to join them, and had to be reined in, hard. The ground shook under the thunder of phantom hooves, and dust rose in a cloud as thirty dark horsemen raced away east.
Calassara: …illusions are all well and good (I’m rather fond of them, actually – nothing quite goes with a song or recitation like a good illusion!) but I was expecting something a bit more… dramatic here. And while one of the riders thinks they look real, Kuthe still wonders how they can kill Zhents. Merith says that’s the next spell, passes his bow to one of the riders, and then joins in the casting himself. And suddenly the illusion is filled with a cloud of green mist… and when the Zhents charge into it, they don’t come out again. Men or horses! And though Illistyl admits she hates doing it to horses, her voice is described as being cold, which does not seem to imply much guilt to me…Suddenly, Merith calls Jhessail’s name, grabs his bow, and shoots an arrow in the sky. And Jhessail, stretching her arm across Kuthe’s saddle – and we have to know it’s shapely, of course – casts another spell, splitting the arrow into a dozen as it falls among the Zhents who didn’t ride into the cloud, killing all but two. Kuthe orders his men to ride down those survivors. Well. That was easy. And, like Errezha, I think it must be cold comfort to those merchants who died for this plan! Jhessail comments that she thinks killing like this is unfair, but Kuthe reminds her that there are still thousands of Zhents out there, and they won’t turn back.
Errezha: One of the other riders says he has a plan to thin their numbers a bit more and removes his helm to reveal he’s an old man and wearing somewhat older and fancier armor than the others. This is Baergil, and everyone treats him like he’s a famed veteran commander even though I’ve literally never heard of him before today. But Merith does remember him; apparently, they fought together years ago. *rolling her eyes* How nice for them. Apparently, Baergil was the former leader of the riders of Mistledale, before he retired to become a priest of Tempus. Illistyl doesn’t think they’ll need him, since the Zhents are all dead, but Baergil claims he knows a spell to raise them – my, my, I wasn’t aware priests of war dabbled in necromancy. Perhaps I’ve just not talked to the right ones? But he claims that tomorrow night, sixty undead Zhents will attack the camp of their living comrades, killing as many as they can – they won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t fight back, but Zhents being Zhents, Baergil doubts there will be many of those. Everyone laughs at this – really! – and Illistyl tells him to do it, and we’re told she is delighted. That is usually not a common reaction to raising undead warriors, in my experience! What do they get up to in the Dales? Baergil thinks it will buy them time to prepare defenses in Mistledale, at least, and Jhessail at least feels chilled at how everyone else is laughing at this. Merith gives her a hug, and Kuthe, fully converted now, compliments her skills and says he’ll see her at the fortifications as he rides off. The happy couple kiss, and then Illistyl rides up and starts making small talk about the weather, ugh. The two Knights don’t care, so Illistyl turns back to watch Baergil raising the undead Zhents; she does shiver this time (weren’t you delighted about this just minutes ago?) then turns to ride away, thinking wryly about seeing the Realms and finding adventure, as the chapter comes to an end.
MG: This one… didn’t have a lot of substance, really. The opening scene is more of Greenwood’s trademarked inappropriately timed sex comedy, this time in a context that seems completely oblivious to just how creepy it is that Torm was, at bare minimum, dressing up in provocative clothes and displaying for his own amusement what amounts to Sylune’s unconscious body, without her consent. Yeesh. The Malaugrym conversation was pretty forgettable, honestly, and mostly just seemed there so we wouldn’t forget about them and have some idea what they’re up to. The Zhent skirmish mostly seemed to be there so we’ll be reminded that Jhessail is Better Than You (and defeats sixty Zhentilar warriors with minimal fuss) but she mostly comes off as rather prickly and ill-tempered, and disturbingly unconcerned about the merchants she let die so her plan could go off. Some heroine! Missing in action – all of our actual main characters, unless you count Sylune. Next time… more Zhents, more Knights. Yaaay. We’ll see you then!
Warning: This chapter contains deaths, violence against humans and animals, and Torm being gross.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s All Shadows Fled! Last time, Elminster, Sharantyr, Sylune and the Harpers got caught in a magical trap in order to clumsily timeskip them forward to the Battle of Shadowdale, some Malaugrym who we’ll never see again schemed and were generically evil, Elminster gave our heroes their assignments for the coming battle, and we learned that Torm of the Knights of Myth Drannor had, surprising no one, been acting like a creep with a construct copy of Sylune’s body. Sigh. Today, it’s time for Sylune to take possession of said body, and for the battle to begin. Joining us as usual will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Two: Bodies, Fresh and Otherwise
Errezha: Considering this is Greenwood writing, I’m going to assume we’ll be seeing rather more of “otherwise.” We open in Mistledale, Flamerule 15 as someone is coming to:
It was horribly dark and somehow dusty, followed by a whirling moment of wrenching pain that became a red agony in her chest, rising up to choke her. Threads of pain rolled down limbs stiff from disuse to an aching forest of fingertips … and then light and sound suddenly burst and swam all around her. The Witch of Shadowdale found herself blinking back tears. She had a body again!
Errezha: *flatly* Don’t get too excited; I somehow doubt it will last. Oh, and it turns out that this is A body Torm had obviously just finished dressing in a black lace cutaway gown that left her bare there and there and there.… *glances down at her own outfit, that covers everything below the neck* Now, I understand that most people are perhaps not as… uncomfortable… with such things as I am, but even so… can you kill him for me? Maim him, at least? I don’t even want to know what all he’s been doing to this body, a body he knows you’ll be using and is not his damned doll. But at least Sylune gets some revenge as she spots Torm facing away from her, admiring a red lace garter – I don’t even want to know – and she manages to get up, wrap her arms around him from behind, while whispering in his ear that she’s come for him. Which has a distinct lack of killing or maiming, alas, but does scare Torm enough that he shrieks and leaps into the air, so I suppose I’ll take it.
Calassara: You know, I doubt I’d mind wearing the outfit as described… but considering in context this is essentially Torm playing dress-up with what might as well be Sylune’s corpse (or at best her unconscious body – how lifelike is it without her spirit animating it, anyway?)… that is rather disturbing. But you’ll be pleased to know that as Torm whirls around Sylune knees him in the groin before plopping herself back down on the bed, feeling rather pleased with herself. Like my companion, I do approve… sadly, this scene seems to be being played entirely for laughs, so once again, I don’t think Greenwood quite realizes how gross his characters are actually acting… Finally Torm, in obvious pain, manages to sit up and asks if it really is Sylune, and she confirms it is, which is why he’s still alive (I don’t know, it being Sylune’s body he’s been using as a toy would seem to make her more likely to feel vengeful than a spirit who just possessed what happened to be available, in my eyes!). He does at least have the grace to apologize – not nearly enough, in my opinion! – and Sylune accepts, though she calls him lecherous scum. Which he is, but she seems to be meaning it oddly… affectionately? Or at least Torm takes it that way, as he laughs happily in response. Why can Greenwood characters never seem to react appropriately to anything?
Errezha: Do you really want an answer to that? Sylune asks Torm why he wasn’t wearing one of his flamboyant codpieces – oh, by the Prince – and he says he wasn’t dressed yet. Sylune gestures at herself and asks if that is his idea of “dressed,” and he replies she hasn’t complained before, and how is this still getting creepier, why was this man amusing himself with dressing what was effectively an unconscious woman in skimpy outfits? *narrows her eyes* I think I can guess; Sylune, you haven’t hurt him nearly enough. Sylune does say she’s complaining now and then, utterly inexplicably, orders Torm to undress her. And to give her a massage when he’s done, as her new body is stiff. Woman, you know what he is and what he’s done, and five minutes ago you were angry enough about it to knee him in the groin quite painfully for it, and now you want his hands all over you? Is there a relationship here of which I am blissfully unaware or are, as my companion has noted, Greenwood’s characters simply incapable of normal humanoid reactions to things? *buries her face in her hands* Let us say that if a man did this to a copy of my body that he knew my consciousness would soon be inhabiting… well, I would not be asking him to do this. I will leave what I would do to your imagination.
Calassara: *sighs* Oh, why must you tease me so… Ahem. Well, it turns out that Torm has been brushing Sylune’s hair, and she compliments him on how well he’s been taking care of it. I… suppose that’s nice? And then he starts waxing poetic about how much he just loves the Seven Sisters’ silver hair and has always wanted to touch it but never dared ask any of them… and now we’re back to this being remarkably creepy. I feel like I’m repeating myself, but these women are not your dolls, Torm! But Sylune is flattered, and Torm says that it was an honor caring for your body and oh, is that what they call it now? And then Sylune reminds him to get back to work, as he strips her – why can’t she do this herself, again? – though at least he points out that the stone that lets her control the body is in her arm (which prompts her to pray for the gods to bless Elminster, because of course it does). She refuses to pray for Torm, when he asks… but she does kiss him, deeply, with tongue. I… am finding myself increasingly confused by the dynamic of this relationship. Possibly because Greenwood just wanted to write this… curious sequence of events… and didn’t give a damn what characters he was forcing to act it out. Sylune does admit she only did it because it’s been so long since she’s had a body to kiss anyone with, which I suppose is fair… but even so, I’m sure she can do better!
Errezha: And this scene, which is short but feels like it drags on, continues as Sylune complains about how Torm’s mouth tastes, and he wonders what she’s even doing here if she thinks he tastes so bad (need I remind you that her body was here? And you were doing… things… with it?) while going through a wardrobe looking for clothes, since he doesn’t think she wants to go outside naked. *flatly* With Greenwood writing, you never can be certain… Sylune doesn’t think that would damage her reputation any more, after what Torm’s been doing, and asks if Illistyl knows about this. Illistyl… that was Jhessail’s apprentice, I believe? And I do seem to recall she and Torm may have been an item… which somehow makes his behavior all the more disturbing, since this is a man with an actual girlfriend… They lock gazes, and Torm is suddenly reminded that this woman is centuries older than him and is appropriately intimidated. He promises to give her that neck rub and says she can fight Zhents naked if she wants (I’m sure it’s what her author wants…) and Sylune says she won’t if everyone is looking at her like he's been, and why is this still going on? Torm then starts giving her the massage; Sylune wonders how he knows she loves the scent of cloves (which is relevant… how, exactly?) and if Elminster told him; he corrects her that he’s a thief, and I remain unclear what that has to do about him knowing what smells she likes. But Sylune bursts out laughing, and the scene finally comes to an end. Thank the Prince.
Calassara: …I wouldn’t be thanking anyone just yet; the chapter is, after all, far from done! We cut to Daggerdale, still on Flamerule 15, where we find ourselves in a quite different place:
Valaster’s Stand had thrust lancelike into the eastern Daggerdale sky for an age and more, and bid fair to do so for a long time to come. Long before Valaster had chosen to die there, the stand had been an arrowhead-shaped ridge that rose sharply upward as it ran northwest, to end in a jagged, overhanging point of rock under which many a traveler had camped. Wiser folk kept to the thick stand of shadowtop trees that marched up its back, and so stayed hidden from the eyes of predators. The trees on the edge of the rocky point were dead or dying. Their bare branches thrust up into the sky like the gnarled fingers of a dead man, a popular roost for birds of prey. Two large and dusty buzzards sat side by side there now. Many another raptor circled, squalling at the buzzards’ refusal to leave, and then flew off in search of other perches.
Calassara: And it happens the buzzards don’t leave because they’re deep in conversation with one another, confirming that these are not buzzards at all, but rather Malaugrym. What a twist! One of them is complaining that they need a mage to return to the Plane of Shadows (weren’t all the Malaugrym meant to be powerful mages themselves?) while the other is worried that any mage they might find and coerce might betray them. Not to mention that the elders might not be happy if they allowed a mortal to open a way back to the castle. The Malaugrym continue arguing about how to go about finding a mage and the difficulties inherent in infiltrating human cities when they know so little of human culture, at which point we learn that one of them is Atari and the other Yinthrim. Suddenly, they’re interrupted by the approach of another bird, a large eagle; Atari wonders if eagles eat buzzards, but the eagle suddenly speaks as well, wondering if they intend to do anything but sit around feeling sorry for themselves. And the eagle, of course, is none other than Ahorga… son of Yerga.
Errezha: And father of Huerbara… will we be seeing her again, I wonder, or has Greenwood forgotten her, too? But Ahorga reveals he’s been listening in on their conversation and wonders if this is all they mean to do; Yinthrim would rather sit and make plans than go blundering into the Red Wizards, the Zhentarim, or Elminster and his friends, which meets with Ahorga’s approval. And mine; Greenwood villains rarely have such foresight. I wonder how long it will take him to ruin it? Atari wants to know how many of them came through with them – Ahorga doesn’t know of any others, but thinks that some may have their other, separate ways to Faerun. Didn’t we know that already? I think we noted last time that the Malaugrym have never seemed to have difficulty traversing the planes before, it was only Dhalgrave’s decrees and fear of Elminster that kept the away. Atari wonders if any of them would be interested in joining them to seek revenge on the three rangers or Elminster, but Ahorga says they will not, and he won’t, either. He thinks that rushing headlong into battle will just get them killed, and he wants to explore Faerun for a while first before making his move. And this is different from Yinthrim’s original plan how, exactly?
Calassara: *shrugs* Don’t ask me to fathom the workings of a Greenwood character’s mind – I’m quite lost already! He goes on to tell Atari to go after the rangers if he must, but to make sure he gathers plenty of spells and magic items first, and practice impersonating humans so he doesn’t get caught. And if he underestimates mortal mages, that’s probably what will happen. Ahorga then excuses himself, promising to see them again if they survive, and warns them that ambush is their best – and, against Elminster, only – tactic. Like Errezha, I find myself amazed at this level of foresight and can only speculate as to when and how it will go wrong. Yinthrim promises to practice ambushes on unsuspecting targets, again meeting Ahorga’s approval; he then flies off, and Atari wonders if human wizards are really as dangerous as Ahorga said, while Yinthrim thinks they’re not, but Ahorga just wanted them to be careful. Considering what we’ve already seen the likes of Elminster and the Simbul do, I would have to say… no, he wasn’t really exaggerating at all. Unfortunately. Atari grows a tentacle just long enough to make a rude gesture in Ahorga’s direction, then flies off to find something to ambush, both for practice and because he’s hungry, and the scene ends there.
Errezha: And so, we do not get a time and location stamp for this scene, and no, I do not know why. There seems little consistency for what is labelled, and what is not. We do, however, get some descriptions:
Verdant farms stretched away on both sides of the road, which ran like a sword blade down the length of Mistledale. Along the backs of those prosperous steadings stood the unbroken green wall of the encircling Elven Court woods. On this bright morning Mistledale was a beautiful place to ride, with a good mount moving strongly beneath the saddle—even if the rider rode in the midst of a solid ring of ebon-armored warriors, who took care to keep their armored forms between her and any possible attack.
Errezha: What a charming rural scene, riders and all! Well, we soon learn that the character in the midst of all these riders is the mage Jhessail of the Knights of Myth Drannor, and her apprentice Illistyl is muttering irritably behind her (I can relate…). We also learn that Torm apparently supplied Jhessail with a new riding outfit and breeches… why is Torm suddenly the expert in fashion this chapter? From how he treated Sylune, Jhessail should count herself lucky her new clothes are decent for public view! Suddenly, the riders around them call for a stop with their weapons out, while Jhessail is unamused.
“Thank you for your kind concern, Gentlesirs,” she said as the horses slowed to a rather jarring trot, “but both Illistyl and I find it rather hard to do any scouting or become familiar with the land around us—land you gallants already know well, but which we’ve seen only once or twice in passing—through a solid wall of plate armor.”
Errezha: And if you are actually under attack, or about to be, then these people will be the only thing standing between you and death, so perhaps let them do their jobs? The patrol leader, Kuthe, rightly points out that Jhessail is unarmed and unarmored, but she just says she needs to scout the area and can’t do that while they’re all clustered around her, and she’s saving her scrying spells for the battle. Why Jhessail, of all people, is scouting at all – I believe the Knights have several very qualified rangers among their ranks? – I remain unsure on. Jhessail goes on to claim that as an adventurer she’s taken far worse risks than this, and I remain unmoved. Kuthe tries to point out the little lass, meaning Illistyl, and she threatens to punch out his teeth if he calls her that again. And once again, from where I stand, this man is trying to do his job, which is to keep the two of you alive, and I am not certain what they’re actually trying to accomplish. I promise you, I only threaten to punch the teeth out of a man’s mouth when he’s done something to deserve it.
Calassara: Perhaps it’s simply that they dare to mildly inconvenience the great Knights of Myth Drannor? For some reason, all of Kuthe’s men laugh at the teeth-punching threats, and then one of them points out that a rider is coming; Jhessail recognizes her husband Merith, which apparently is the sign that the reinforcements Elminster was sending them (which is to say, our merry band of bunglers) have arrived. When Kuthe asks how many reinforcements, Jhessail just says four and then everyone laughs at his confusion. Seriously, what has this man done to earn everyone’s animosity? One of the riders, though, suddenly points to the edge of the nearby trees, where a small merchant company has emerged, fleeing from someone shooting crossbow bolts at them from behind. Jhessail watches one of the merchants – who, for some reason, Greenwood feels the need to point out is fat – get shot, along with one of the horses, and then she and the riders charge. But as Kuthe is calling for the merchants to get out of the way, she tells him to stop – of course! – and that she has a plan.
Errezha: *muttering* Whatever Mistledale is paying this man… he deserves more. But Kuthe calls his men to halt and asks Jhessail what she’s up to – while the merchants are still dying up ahead, wonderful – and she asks for room. She and Illistyl ride forward, raising their hands and chanting incantations. And nothing happens. Kuthe demands to know if they’ve seen enough, but Jhessail thinks they need to wait for the Zhents to come out, rather than go charging into their line of fire. And, sure enough, a group of around sixty black-armored Zhentilar warriors come riding out of the trees shortly after. The merchants, by the way, are all dead now. I’m sure they’re just so thankful for Jhessail stopping Kuthe from charging so she could enact her little scheme! Jhessail tells Kuthe to hold his men steady until she gives the word. One of the riders asks who she is to give them orders – an excellent question – and she just says they’ll die if they ride forward now. Kuthe says they’ll wait and tells his men to raise their shields. The Zhents start shooting, and then Jhessail casts her spell.
Abruptly the air in front of the Riders was full of shadowy, moving forms—images that suddenly grew dark and solid; the gleaming black armored backs of Riders on horseback, charging away with lances lowered. More than one mount under the real Riders surged forward to join them, and had to be reined in, hard. The ground shook under the thunder of phantom hooves, and dust rose in a cloud as thirty dark horsemen raced away east.
Calassara: …illusions are all well and good (I’m rather fond of them, actually – nothing quite goes with a song or recitation like a good illusion!) but I was expecting something a bit more… dramatic here. And while one of the riders thinks they look real, Kuthe still wonders how they can kill Zhents. Merith says that’s the next spell, passes his bow to one of the riders, and then joins in the casting himself. And suddenly the illusion is filled with a cloud of green mist… and when the Zhents charge into it, they don’t come out again. Men or horses! And though Illistyl admits she hates doing it to horses, her voice is described as being cold, which does not seem to imply much guilt to me…Suddenly, Merith calls Jhessail’s name, grabs his bow, and shoots an arrow in the sky. And Jhessail, stretching her arm across Kuthe’s saddle – and we have to know it’s shapely, of course – casts another spell, splitting the arrow into a dozen as it falls among the Zhents who didn’t ride into the cloud, killing all but two. Kuthe orders his men to ride down those survivors. Well. That was easy. And, like Errezha, I think it must be cold comfort to those merchants who died for this plan! Jhessail comments that she thinks killing like this is unfair, but Kuthe reminds her that there are still thousands of Zhents out there, and they won’t turn back.
Errezha: One of the other riders says he has a plan to thin their numbers a bit more and removes his helm to reveal he’s an old man and wearing somewhat older and fancier armor than the others. This is Baergil, and everyone treats him like he’s a famed veteran commander even though I’ve literally never heard of him before today. But Merith does remember him; apparently, they fought together years ago. *rolling her eyes* How nice for them. Apparently, Baergil was the former leader of the riders of Mistledale, before he retired to become a priest of Tempus. Illistyl doesn’t think they’ll need him, since the Zhents are all dead, but Baergil claims he knows a spell to raise them – my, my, I wasn’t aware priests of war dabbled in necromancy. Perhaps I’ve just not talked to the right ones? But he claims that tomorrow night, sixty undead Zhents will attack the camp of their living comrades, killing as many as they can – they won’t hurt anyone who doesn’t fight back, but Zhents being Zhents, Baergil doubts there will be many of those. Everyone laughs at this – really! – and Illistyl tells him to do it, and we’re told she is delighted. That is usually not a common reaction to raising undead warriors, in my experience! What do they get up to in the Dales? Baergil thinks it will buy them time to prepare defenses in Mistledale, at least, and Jhessail at least feels chilled at how everyone else is laughing at this. Merith gives her a hug, and Kuthe, fully converted now, compliments her skills and says he’ll see her at the fortifications as he rides off. The happy couple kiss, and then Illistyl rides up and starts making small talk about the weather, ugh. The two Knights don’t care, so Illistyl turns back to watch Baergil raising the undead Zhents; she does shiver this time (weren’t you delighted about this just minutes ago?) then turns to ride away, thinking wryly about seeing the Realms and finding adventure, as the chapter comes to an end.
MG: This one… didn’t have a lot of substance, really. The opening scene is more of Greenwood’s trademarked inappropriately timed sex comedy, this time in a context that seems completely oblivious to just how creepy it is that Torm was, at bare minimum, dressing up in provocative clothes and displaying for his own amusement what amounts to Sylune’s unconscious body, without her consent. Yeesh. The Malaugrym conversation was pretty forgettable, honestly, and mostly just seemed there so we wouldn’t forget about them and have some idea what they’re up to. The Zhent skirmish mostly seemed to be there so we’ll be reminded that Jhessail is Better Than You (and defeats sixty Zhentilar warriors with minimal fuss) but she mostly comes off as rather prickly and ill-tempered, and disturbingly unconcerned about the merchants she let die so her plan could go off. Some heroine! Missing in action – all of our actual main characters, unless you count Sylune. Next time… more Zhents, more Knights. Yaaay. We’ll see you then!
