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masterghandalfThis is a repost from Das_sporking2. Previous installments of this sporking may be found here.
Warning: This chapter contains violence and some deaths.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s All Shadows Fled! Last time, Torm was a creep, some Malaugrym showed a surprising level of competence and forethought, and Jhessail killed a bunch of Zhents while treating her escort remarkably shabbily. Today, it’s time to check in with the Zhents themselves and also see what some of the some of the other Knights of Myth Drannor are up to (because I’m sure we’re all just so curious about that…). Joining us once again will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Three: The Dead and the Living Both Ride
Errezha: Hmm, is that a reference to that priest of Tempus raising the dead Zhents last time, to Sylune and her new body, or some other bit of inanity Greenwood has yet to introduce to us? I suppose we shall see. We open in Essembra, Battledale, early hours of Flamerule 16 as someone named Gostar is bored and struggling to stay awake while on the night watch. Suddenly, he hears a rumbling noise in the dark that gradually grows louder and finally realizes what it must be and yells for his companions to rouse the camp. One of his companions wonders why’d I risk a flogging to do that and, my dear man, you are a soldier, on watch, alerting your superiors to threats is your job and whatever punishment you might get to raising a false alarm, failing to raise an alarm when it’s needed will no doubt get you far worse, assuming whoever is coming doesn’t kill you first! Gostar insists that at least fifty horses are coming, and the rest of the guards draw their weapons and stand ready, while Rorst, the complainer, very pointedly does not just to show he doesn’t take orders from Gostar. *facepalms* Wonderful discipline. And that’s when the enemy cavalry charges out of the darkness, and Gostar gets a good look at them and realizes something is wrong. He recognizes the nearest rider as Estard, who is currently with a band of raiders in Mistledale, and while he’s trying to figure that out, the undead Estard runs him through and tramples him, and the scene comes to an end. And, once again, I can’t say I’m impressed at all by the competence or abilities of Greenwood’s villains.
Calassara: Nor does he go a good job of conveying the horror of attack by one’s undead comrades, I think (though now we do know what the chapter title is referring to; that was fast). We then cut to someone named Swordlord Amglar as he’s woken by the sound of screams in the night. He scrambles to his feet, fumbling for his weapon and realizing that, by the sounds, his command are under cavalry attack. As his squire is still asleep – oh, dear – the Swordlord is forced to stumble around in a daze getting ready, wondering who it could be.
The attack was from the north … Hillsfar? Who else could muster enough mounted swords to get through the road guard? Elves never fought from the saddle … and even if every farmer in Mistledale could find a horse, scarce more than a handful’d be able to stay on it while swinging a blade!
MG: Hillsfar, which I believe we last heard of in Shandril’s Saga, is if you’ll recall one of Zhentil Keep’s major rivals among the Moonsea city-states, along with Mulmaster. Though Hillsfar gets namedropped fairly often in works taking place around the Moonsea or the Heartlands, in my experience it never really developed much of an identity beyond “Zhentil Keep Lite.” Mulmaster has the same problem, honestly.
Calassara: Interesting! Well, Amglar finally gets armed and stumbles outside… to find what appears to be Zhent fighting Zhent. After spotting one of the attackers being dogpiled and repeatedly stabbed without dropping, however, he realizes the truth – these are their own men who were sent to Mistledale, where they died, were raised as undead, and sent back to attack their comrades. Amglar curses and goes charging through the camp, until he spots Ondeler, a Zhentarim wizard, who appears at the balcony of an inn near their camp. Ondeler also curses, and snarls for the young woman with him – a prostitute, I think? – to bring him his robe. Ondeler watches the battle a bit more before the girl returns, and as he pulls on the robe he tells her to go fetch Myarvuk, another mage with their company. She scurries off, and he’s left wondering why the ladies of the evening are more obedient and better disciplined than his own soldiers. *beat* While that certainly seems to be true, from what we’ve seen this chapter, I think that’s a problem with your people!
Errezha: *disgusted noise* I have said it before, but none of Greenwood’s Zhentarim would last a week in Cheliax. Ondeler briefly wonders whether he should recruit all of the town’s prostitutes as Zhentilar officers to replace the ones he’s bound to lose in this attack, then roots around in his pockets for spell components and casts a fireball, with a… curious incantation:
“By dung of bat and sulphur’s reek
And mystic words I now do speak—
Ashtyn orthruu angcoug laen—
Let empty air burst into—flame!”
Errezha: *arches an eyebrow* Now, I will confess… I am a sorcerer, not a wizard. Magic comes intuitively to me, and outside of diabolism, I’ve rarely studied, or had much patience for sitting through, the theory. But that sounds more like a parody of a spell than an actual one! Nonethless, it works; a fireball erupts in the street below, and by its light Ondeler notices that the attackers keep fighting despite being wounded and, in some cases, on fire, and also determines that they are undead. He then notices Amglar, who is apparently wearing only his boots – and not even a breechcloth? My, my – and yells at him for nearly setting the whole camp on fire. Ondeler notes it’s more effective than anything Amglar has done, and compliments him on his, ah, outfit. *rolls her eyes* If this is what the command staff is like to each other in public, I can see why this operation is like it is. Amglar makes a rude gesture, and then Myarvuk arrives to assist Ondeler. Ondeler tells him to get riding clothes, boots, and weapons for Belurastra, the girl he sent to fetch him, since she’ll be coming with them. Hmmm; I guess he was serious about recruiting the prostitutes, then!
Calassara: …on the one hand, I really wouldn’t expect a Greenwood villain to be so open-minded. On the other hand, he’s only doing this because the competence of his own soldiers is so abysmal. I’m torn. Belurastra herself is rather shocked, since she has no experience in war, but Ondeler says he’s sure, while offhandedly summoning a large boulder and crushing one of the undead with it. Amglar is just as glad he’s not using fireballs anymore, since his last one killed or removed from action at least seven of the Zhentilar – Savored Sting, can this man even aim? – but Ondeler is unconcerned, as he thinks their remaining numbers should be enough to handle the undead (whether they shank Ondeler himself in the middle of the night, however, presumably remains an open question…). And, from Amglar’s reaction – why do we keep jumping between Ondeler’s and Amglar’s points of view? – this sort of callousness is nothing new for him. Amglar does wonder if Ondeler would be acting this way if he knew that Amglar is expected to report to Draethe, steward of the Inner Circle on Ondeler’s behavior – and that he apparently has some very particular things he’s planning to say.
Errezha: *snorts* No doubt. Amglar says he’s given orders for the entire company to be roused, fed, and made ready to march on Mistledale – when did he have time to give that order – once all the undead are down, since he doesn’t want to lose time to this attack. Ondeler wonders if this order includes his magelings, and Amglar insists it does, holding up his sword, which bears Bane’s insignia on the pommel and is apparently the sign that he has absolute authority over this part of the invasion force, even over the mages. Ondeler grudgingly says he’s ready, then orders Myarvuk to prepare their apprentices for the march; once he leaves, Ondeler turns to Belurastra and tells her to change into the gear Myarvuk brought for her. “If you ride nude,” Ondeler told her coldly, “you’ll be raw before the sun is bright, and of no use to me.” *beat* What a… charming image. She asks if he’s determined, and he says he is, and he’ll have his apprentices practice their firewhips on her tonight if she questions him again. Charming man, isn’t he? Belurastra disrobes – right there, because of course – and starts putting on her new armor; Ondeler looks away and notes Amglar pretending to study his sword but actually watching her in the reflection. *she sighs* Greenwood. Why. Ondeler is amused at how all warriors seem to have brains in their codpieces and regrets that wizards have need of them – bold words from a man who was apparently making use of this woman’s, ah, services earlier tonight!
Calassara: Well, we learn that Amglar is professional enough to look away eventually, and so he misses it when this happens:
Smoothly, the most beautiful woman in Battledale, senior escort of the Bold Banners house, twisted and pulled on the wooden bedpost ball. It came away, and she reached into the hollow interior beneath it and snatched forth a slim poniard. Tossing the ball on the rumpled bed, she used her freed hand to strip away a wax-sealed sheath from the weapon as she raised it. In the lamplight, a dark green liquid gleamed on the needle-slim steel. Something—perhaps a momentary flash of reflection—alerted the wizard, and he whirled about to face Belurastra.
Calassara: …I was not expecting that. Belurastra announces that she can’t serve under any Zhentarim wizard (would a Zhentarim priest or mercenary be acceptable, then?) which makes me wonder just where her prior loyalties lie. *she sighs* Probably Harpers, since that’s the only ostensibly-heroic faction Greenwood seems to care about. She stabs Ondeler in the eye – not that he didn’t deserve it, but my, that’s a fast turnover, even for a Greenwood villain – as Amglar jumps at her and manages to wrench the blade away before she can kill herself with it. He compliments her bravery, but tells her it would be a waste to throw her life away now, and he promises not to kill her if she promises not to kill him, and tells her he won’t mention her name in his report to his superiors. She agrees, and he compliments her for doing something he couldn’t – freeing his men from having to put up with Ondeler. He then asks if the clothes Myarvuk brought her will fit him instead – I’d think probably not? Since I’d been imagining her as a rather small woman, and him as a rather large man – since she seems so averse to them, and he is, it happens, still naked, this whole time. Normally, isn’t it the women Greenwood writes into situations like this? How… surprisingly egalitarian of him?
Errezha: A moment later Myarvuk himself runs back in, stunned to see his comrade’s body; Amglar just says that a spell went wrong, and Myarvuk is in charge of the company’s mages now. Myarvuk is stunned and wants to know how he can be sure Amglar’s next report won’t accuse him of Ondeler’s murder. Amglar doesn’t think that Zhentil Keep would much care if Myarvuk was guilty – well, I guess nobody liked Ondeler, then. I wonder how he rose to such an important position? Maybe it had something to do with Shandril’s fairly recent mass slaughter of Zhentarim leaving a number of openings… Anyway, Amglar tells Myarvuk to salvage what he can of Ondeler’s magic, and as Myarvuk goes rifling through the body, Amglar makes him promise not to hurt Belurastra. Myarvuk agrees, and Amglar tells him they ride to Mistledale in the morning, and the scene comes to an end.
MG: Belurastra, by the way, is never mentioned by name again in the book, and I don’t believe it’s ever specified if she’s a Harper agent or something else (or if she just had a personal grudge against the Zhents), or why she just happened to have a concealed poisoned dagger with which to kill Ondeler as soon as she could take him by surprise.
Calassara: *sigh* Of course not. We cut to Ashabenford, Mistledale, Flamerule 16 as Florin Falconhand seems to be responding to Torm, asking what clever battle strategies a force of seventy Dalesfolk can use against seven thousand Zhents and mercenaries. Torm, in very melodramatic manner, exposits about how they’re all waiting for the great Florin to tell them exactly that (Torm, he was asking you…) and Florin testily tells him not to push it (thank you, Florin!) and sarcastically adds that with his reputation, they surely hold Mistledale with just sixty-nine, not even the full seventy. I… almost like Florin. He seems to be the only person somewhat aware of how insane their situation is, and he also doesn’t seem to have much patience for Torm. But the other Knights laugh, and Florin raises his sword and calls on the forces of Mistledale to ride forth.
More than one watching villager shook his head in disbelief at the calm manner of Mistledale’s defenders. One of the riders—the woman with silver hair, who’d sat asleep and nearly naked in the window of the Six Shields several nights running—even laughed merrily at something the thief said to her. The three rangers riding easily behind her exchanged glances and smiles, and spurred their horses to pass her by, giving the watching folk of Ashabenford cheerful waves. The villagers were not heartened.
Calassara: *coldly* Thank you for reminding me of that plot point, Greenwood! One of the villagers mutters that with these odds, they might as well make plans to flee the Dale and move to Cormyr, while a woman tells him there’s nowhere safe and she’d rather die on her feet defending her own home than fleeing. A noble sentiment; hopefully Greenwood won’t force you to put it to the test. The two villagers fall into an argument about the merits of fight versus flight, with another eventually chiming in and offering to flee to Cormyr with the first speaker, and several others nod. We then cut to the war band as they ride across Mistledale. The morning was chilly but clear, and as Florin looked around at his battle companions and the tranquil, sun-splashed farms on either side, he was happy. Much blood lay ahead—perhaps the ending of all their bright days—and yet he was doing what needed to be done, and folk needed him to do it. What more can anyone ask than to be needed and wanted and free to answer the call? Why, Florin. You’re almost… heroic. How did you get here, anyway?
MG: …I doubt you’d like him as much if you read the Knights of Myth Drannor prequel trilogy…
Errezha: *sighs* Of course not. The captain of the militia, a woman named Nelyssa, rides up to Florin, expressing her worry that while she knows what they need to do, she fears they’ve left the town undefended if a Zhent raiding party sneaks around them and strikes at it. Florin tells her – calling her Lady of Chauntea, so I suppose she’s either a cleric or paladin of the goddess of the earth, then? – that the answer is, of course, Harpers. *rolls her eyes* Around twenty of them are in hiding around the village, and will fight to defend it even if the riders fall, and have magic to call on more aid (which is why they’re hiding back from the fighting and not actually helping with it, clearly…). Nelyssa – who is a paladin, as it happens – actually acknowledges the Time of Troubles for once and points out that magic has become unreliable lately, but Sylune just says not all magic is, or she wouldn’t be here now. *rolls her eyes* Of course not. You’re special. Torm then takes this as cue to flirt with Sylune (oh stop it) and Rathan, for once, does the right thing and tells him to stop. You’re worse than a boar in heat! *arches her eyebrow* Boars, being male, don’t generally go into “heat” …though I get the idea. Torm makes a rude gesture at Rathan, and Rathan prays to Tymora and promises to force Torm to do penance, while Torm says he’ll have to catch him first. And then hides behind Sylune, because of course he does. *disgusted noise*
Calassara: Nelyssa then asks if Torm is really as fast as she’s heard, and Florin says that, in retreat, few things are swifter than he is. Which is not an endorsement! Brave Sir Torm ran away… he bravely ran away, away! …when danger reared it’s ugly head he bravely turned his tail and fled… the bravest of the brave, Sir Torm! Ahem. Not sure where that came from – something just… came over me. Torm then makes a rude gesture at Nelyssa, she wonders how he’s stayed alive this long, and Florin says he has lots of practice outrunning jilted husbands. And that, I can believe. And then Torm grins lecherously at Nelyssa before running off to scout, and by the gods, lady knight, if you kill him by “accident” during the battle, I don’t think anyone will mourn! Sharantyr, Belkram and Itharr – who are all there too, apparently – ride off after Torm to keep him out of trouble, with Belkram and Itharr literally speaking in stereo as they say they’ll go with her. Savored Sting, are they literally merging into one character, now? Sylune then goes after them, and Nelyssa asks Florin if all the Knights are like this; he says they’re usually worse, gods help us all!
Errezha: Well, it seems we’re getting a sign from someone as the ground starts rumbling, and then Nelyssa whoops and rides off. By the Prince, is Florin going to have anyone left under his command in time for the battle? Florin then notes to Rathan that they seem to have this effect on people (I wonder why…) and Rathan says he’s sure Tymora is happy and wishes Florin her blessing (however much that counts for right now). Then he rides off (where are you all going?) leaving Florin alone with the fighters from Mistledale. Florin tries to reassure them, implying the gods will watch over them, but one of the militia fearfully asks if the gods will actually be at the battle. At this point, I’d hardly be surprised… An older rider reassures him, and they end up agreeing to hold a competition to see who can kill the most Zhents (well, it’s not as if the Zhents stand any chance of actually winning, the way Greenwood writes them…). Then the young rider faints, though Florin catches him and helps several of the others get him back into his saddle. They banter a bit more until the young rider awakens, looks around at everyone… and then faints again, ha, ha, as the chapter ends.
MG: And so it does. This one honestly feels mostly like setup, though we do get the fallout from the undead Zhent attack that was set up last chapter, and we also meet Amglor (who’ll be a major antagonist for the rest of the “Battle of Shadowdale” plotline and is at least moderately interesting) and get some Zhent intrigue (that mostly doesn’t go anywhere, save for killing off Interchangeable Zhent Wizard #256, and doesn’t even fully explain the motivations or roles of everyone involved) and we got some more “comedy” with the Knights, that mostly serves to reinforce how insufferable they all are (Florin’s the best of the lot, but after his showing in the prequels, let’s say I find it really hard to appreciate him unreservedly…). Not a lot else to talk about here. Next time… more Knights, more Zhents, more of the Dales, and some of the Malaugrym make their first move! We’ll see you then!
Warning: This chapter contains violence and some deaths.
MG: Well, everyone, it’s time to continue our journey through Ed Greenwood’s All Shadows Fled! Last time, Torm was a creep, some Malaugrym showed a surprising level of competence and forethought, and Jhessail killed a bunch of Zhents while treating her escort remarkably shabbily. Today, it’s time to check in with the Zhents themselves and also see what some of the some of the other Knights of Myth Drannor are up to (because I’m sure we’re all just so curious about that…). Joining us once again will be Errezha and Calassara!
Chapter Three: The Dead and the Living Both Ride
Errezha: Hmm, is that a reference to that priest of Tempus raising the dead Zhents last time, to Sylune and her new body, or some other bit of inanity Greenwood has yet to introduce to us? I suppose we shall see. We open in Essembra, Battledale, early hours of Flamerule 16 as someone named Gostar is bored and struggling to stay awake while on the night watch. Suddenly, he hears a rumbling noise in the dark that gradually grows louder and finally realizes what it must be and yells for his companions to rouse the camp. One of his companions wonders why’d I risk a flogging to do that and, my dear man, you are a soldier, on watch, alerting your superiors to threats is your job and whatever punishment you might get to raising a false alarm, failing to raise an alarm when it’s needed will no doubt get you far worse, assuming whoever is coming doesn’t kill you first! Gostar insists that at least fifty horses are coming, and the rest of the guards draw their weapons and stand ready, while Rorst, the complainer, very pointedly does not just to show he doesn’t take orders from Gostar. *facepalms* Wonderful discipline. And that’s when the enemy cavalry charges out of the darkness, and Gostar gets a good look at them and realizes something is wrong. He recognizes the nearest rider as Estard, who is currently with a band of raiders in Mistledale, and while he’s trying to figure that out, the undead Estard runs him through and tramples him, and the scene comes to an end. And, once again, I can’t say I’m impressed at all by the competence or abilities of Greenwood’s villains.
Calassara: Nor does he go a good job of conveying the horror of attack by one’s undead comrades, I think (though now we do know what the chapter title is referring to; that was fast). We then cut to someone named Swordlord Amglar as he’s woken by the sound of screams in the night. He scrambles to his feet, fumbling for his weapon and realizing that, by the sounds, his command are under cavalry attack. As his squire is still asleep – oh, dear – the Swordlord is forced to stumble around in a daze getting ready, wondering who it could be.
The attack was from the north … Hillsfar? Who else could muster enough mounted swords to get through the road guard? Elves never fought from the saddle … and even if every farmer in Mistledale could find a horse, scarce more than a handful’d be able to stay on it while swinging a blade!
MG: Hillsfar, which I believe we last heard of in Shandril’s Saga, is if you’ll recall one of Zhentil Keep’s major rivals among the Moonsea city-states, along with Mulmaster. Though Hillsfar gets namedropped fairly often in works taking place around the Moonsea or the Heartlands, in my experience it never really developed much of an identity beyond “Zhentil Keep Lite.” Mulmaster has the same problem, honestly.
Calassara: Interesting! Well, Amglar finally gets armed and stumbles outside… to find what appears to be Zhent fighting Zhent. After spotting one of the attackers being dogpiled and repeatedly stabbed without dropping, however, he realizes the truth – these are their own men who were sent to Mistledale, where they died, were raised as undead, and sent back to attack their comrades. Amglar curses and goes charging through the camp, until he spots Ondeler, a Zhentarim wizard, who appears at the balcony of an inn near their camp. Ondeler also curses, and snarls for the young woman with him – a prostitute, I think? – to bring him his robe. Ondeler watches the battle a bit more before the girl returns, and as he pulls on the robe he tells her to go fetch Myarvuk, another mage with their company. She scurries off, and he’s left wondering why the ladies of the evening are more obedient and better disciplined than his own soldiers. *beat* While that certainly seems to be true, from what we’ve seen this chapter, I think that’s a problem with your people!
Errezha: *disgusted noise* I have said it before, but none of Greenwood’s Zhentarim would last a week in Cheliax. Ondeler briefly wonders whether he should recruit all of the town’s prostitutes as Zhentilar officers to replace the ones he’s bound to lose in this attack, then roots around in his pockets for spell components and casts a fireball, with a… curious incantation:
“By dung of bat and sulphur’s reek
And mystic words I now do speak—
Ashtyn orthruu angcoug laen—
Let empty air burst into—flame!”
Errezha: *arches an eyebrow* Now, I will confess… I am a sorcerer, not a wizard. Magic comes intuitively to me, and outside of diabolism, I’ve rarely studied, or had much patience for sitting through, the theory. But that sounds more like a parody of a spell than an actual one! Nonethless, it works; a fireball erupts in the street below, and by its light Ondeler notices that the attackers keep fighting despite being wounded and, in some cases, on fire, and also determines that they are undead. He then notices Amglar, who is apparently wearing only his boots – and not even a breechcloth? My, my – and yells at him for nearly setting the whole camp on fire. Ondeler notes it’s more effective than anything Amglar has done, and compliments him on his, ah, outfit. *rolls her eyes* If this is what the command staff is like to each other in public, I can see why this operation is like it is. Amglar makes a rude gesture, and then Myarvuk arrives to assist Ondeler. Ondeler tells him to get riding clothes, boots, and weapons for Belurastra, the girl he sent to fetch him, since she’ll be coming with them. Hmmm; I guess he was serious about recruiting the prostitutes, then!
Calassara: …on the one hand, I really wouldn’t expect a Greenwood villain to be so open-minded. On the other hand, he’s only doing this because the competence of his own soldiers is so abysmal. I’m torn. Belurastra herself is rather shocked, since she has no experience in war, but Ondeler says he’s sure, while offhandedly summoning a large boulder and crushing one of the undead with it. Amglar is just as glad he’s not using fireballs anymore, since his last one killed or removed from action at least seven of the Zhentilar – Savored Sting, can this man even aim? – but Ondeler is unconcerned, as he thinks their remaining numbers should be enough to handle the undead (whether they shank Ondeler himself in the middle of the night, however, presumably remains an open question…). And, from Amglar’s reaction – why do we keep jumping between Ondeler’s and Amglar’s points of view? – this sort of callousness is nothing new for him. Amglar does wonder if Ondeler would be acting this way if he knew that Amglar is expected to report to Draethe, steward of the Inner Circle on Ondeler’s behavior – and that he apparently has some very particular things he’s planning to say.
Errezha: *snorts* No doubt. Amglar says he’s given orders for the entire company to be roused, fed, and made ready to march on Mistledale – when did he have time to give that order – once all the undead are down, since he doesn’t want to lose time to this attack. Ondeler wonders if this order includes his magelings, and Amglar insists it does, holding up his sword, which bears Bane’s insignia on the pommel and is apparently the sign that he has absolute authority over this part of the invasion force, even over the mages. Ondeler grudgingly says he’s ready, then orders Myarvuk to prepare their apprentices for the march; once he leaves, Ondeler turns to Belurastra and tells her to change into the gear Myarvuk brought for her. “If you ride nude,” Ondeler told her coldly, “you’ll be raw before the sun is bright, and of no use to me.” *beat* What a… charming image. She asks if he’s determined, and he says he is, and he’ll have his apprentices practice their firewhips on her tonight if she questions him again. Charming man, isn’t he? Belurastra disrobes – right there, because of course – and starts putting on her new armor; Ondeler looks away and notes Amglar pretending to study his sword but actually watching her in the reflection. *she sighs* Greenwood. Why. Ondeler is amused at how all warriors seem to have brains in their codpieces and regrets that wizards have need of them – bold words from a man who was apparently making use of this woman’s, ah, services earlier tonight!
Calassara: Well, we learn that Amglar is professional enough to look away eventually, and so he misses it when this happens:
Smoothly, the most beautiful woman in Battledale, senior escort of the Bold Banners house, twisted and pulled on the wooden bedpost ball. It came away, and she reached into the hollow interior beneath it and snatched forth a slim poniard. Tossing the ball on the rumpled bed, she used her freed hand to strip away a wax-sealed sheath from the weapon as she raised it. In the lamplight, a dark green liquid gleamed on the needle-slim steel. Something—perhaps a momentary flash of reflection—alerted the wizard, and he whirled about to face Belurastra.
Calassara: …I was not expecting that. Belurastra announces that she can’t serve under any Zhentarim wizard (would a Zhentarim priest or mercenary be acceptable, then?) which makes me wonder just where her prior loyalties lie. *she sighs* Probably Harpers, since that’s the only ostensibly-heroic faction Greenwood seems to care about. She stabs Ondeler in the eye – not that he didn’t deserve it, but my, that’s a fast turnover, even for a Greenwood villain – as Amglar jumps at her and manages to wrench the blade away before she can kill herself with it. He compliments her bravery, but tells her it would be a waste to throw her life away now, and he promises not to kill her if she promises not to kill him, and tells her he won’t mention her name in his report to his superiors. She agrees, and he compliments her for doing something he couldn’t – freeing his men from having to put up with Ondeler. He then asks if the clothes Myarvuk brought her will fit him instead – I’d think probably not? Since I’d been imagining her as a rather small woman, and him as a rather large man – since she seems so averse to them, and he is, it happens, still naked, this whole time. Normally, isn’t it the women Greenwood writes into situations like this? How… surprisingly egalitarian of him?
Errezha: A moment later Myarvuk himself runs back in, stunned to see his comrade’s body; Amglar just says that a spell went wrong, and Myarvuk is in charge of the company’s mages now. Myarvuk is stunned and wants to know how he can be sure Amglar’s next report won’t accuse him of Ondeler’s murder. Amglar doesn’t think that Zhentil Keep would much care if Myarvuk was guilty – well, I guess nobody liked Ondeler, then. I wonder how he rose to such an important position? Maybe it had something to do with Shandril’s fairly recent mass slaughter of Zhentarim leaving a number of openings… Anyway, Amglar tells Myarvuk to salvage what he can of Ondeler’s magic, and as Myarvuk goes rifling through the body, Amglar makes him promise not to hurt Belurastra. Myarvuk agrees, and Amglar tells him they ride to Mistledale in the morning, and the scene comes to an end.
MG: Belurastra, by the way, is never mentioned by name again in the book, and I don’t believe it’s ever specified if she’s a Harper agent or something else (or if she just had a personal grudge against the Zhents), or why she just happened to have a concealed poisoned dagger with which to kill Ondeler as soon as she could take him by surprise.
Calassara: *sigh* Of course not. We cut to Ashabenford, Mistledale, Flamerule 16 as Florin Falconhand seems to be responding to Torm, asking what clever battle strategies a force of seventy Dalesfolk can use against seven thousand Zhents and mercenaries. Torm, in very melodramatic manner, exposits about how they’re all waiting for the great Florin to tell them exactly that (Torm, he was asking you…) and Florin testily tells him not to push it (thank you, Florin!) and sarcastically adds that with his reputation, they surely hold Mistledale with just sixty-nine, not even the full seventy. I… almost like Florin. He seems to be the only person somewhat aware of how insane their situation is, and he also doesn’t seem to have much patience for Torm. But the other Knights laugh, and Florin raises his sword and calls on the forces of Mistledale to ride forth.
More than one watching villager shook his head in disbelief at the calm manner of Mistledale’s defenders. One of the riders—the woman with silver hair, who’d sat asleep and nearly naked in the window of the Six Shields several nights running—even laughed merrily at something the thief said to her. The three rangers riding easily behind her exchanged glances and smiles, and spurred their horses to pass her by, giving the watching folk of Ashabenford cheerful waves. The villagers were not heartened.
Calassara: *coldly* Thank you for reminding me of that plot point, Greenwood! One of the villagers mutters that with these odds, they might as well make plans to flee the Dale and move to Cormyr, while a woman tells him there’s nowhere safe and she’d rather die on her feet defending her own home than fleeing. A noble sentiment; hopefully Greenwood won’t force you to put it to the test. The two villagers fall into an argument about the merits of fight versus flight, with another eventually chiming in and offering to flee to Cormyr with the first speaker, and several others nod. We then cut to the war band as they ride across Mistledale. The morning was chilly but clear, and as Florin looked around at his battle companions and the tranquil, sun-splashed farms on either side, he was happy. Much blood lay ahead—perhaps the ending of all their bright days—and yet he was doing what needed to be done, and folk needed him to do it. What more can anyone ask than to be needed and wanted and free to answer the call? Why, Florin. You’re almost… heroic. How did you get here, anyway?
MG: …I doubt you’d like him as much if you read the Knights of Myth Drannor prequel trilogy…
Errezha: *sighs* Of course not. The captain of the militia, a woman named Nelyssa, rides up to Florin, expressing her worry that while she knows what they need to do, she fears they’ve left the town undefended if a Zhent raiding party sneaks around them and strikes at it. Florin tells her – calling her Lady of Chauntea, so I suppose she’s either a cleric or paladin of the goddess of the earth, then? – that the answer is, of course, Harpers. *rolls her eyes* Around twenty of them are in hiding around the village, and will fight to defend it even if the riders fall, and have magic to call on more aid (which is why they’re hiding back from the fighting and not actually helping with it, clearly…). Nelyssa – who is a paladin, as it happens – actually acknowledges the Time of Troubles for once and points out that magic has become unreliable lately, but Sylune just says not all magic is, or she wouldn’t be here now. *rolls her eyes* Of course not. You’re special. Torm then takes this as cue to flirt with Sylune (oh stop it) and Rathan, for once, does the right thing and tells him to stop. You’re worse than a boar in heat! *arches her eyebrow* Boars, being male, don’t generally go into “heat” …though I get the idea. Torm makes a rude gesture at Rathan, and Rathan prays to Tymora and promises to force Torm to do penance, while Torm says he’ll have to catch him first. And then hides behind Sylune, because of course he does. *disgusted noise*
Calassara: Nelyssa then asks if Torm is really as fast as she’s heard, and Florin says that, in retreat, few things are swifter than he is. Which is not an endorsement! Brave Sir Torm ran away… he bravely ran away, away! …when danger reared it’s ugly head he bravely turned his tail and fled… the bravest of the brave, Sir Torm! Ahem. Not sure where that came from – something just… came over me. Torm then makes a rude gesture at Nelyssa, she wonders how he’s stayed alive this long, and Florin says he has lots of practice outrunning jilted husbands. And that, I can believe. And then Torm grins lecherously at Nelyssa before running off to scout, and by the gods, lady knight, if you kill him by “accident” during the battle, I don’t think anyone will mourn! Sharantyr, Belkram and Itharr – who are all there too, apparently – ride off after Torm to keep him out of trouble, with Belkram and Itharr literally speaking in stereo as they say they’ll go with her. Savored Sting, are they literally merging into one character, now? Sylune then goes after them, and Nelyssa asks Florin if all the Knights are like this; he says they’re usually worse, gods help us all!
Errezha: Well, it seems we’re getting a sign from someone as the ground starts rumbling, and then Nelyssa whoops and rides off. By the Prince, is Florin going to have anyone left under his command in time for the battle? Florin then notes to Rathan that they seem to have this effect on people (I wonder why…) and Rathan says he’s sure Tymora is happy and wishes Florin her blessing (however much that counts for right now). Then he rides off (where are you all going?) leaving Florin alone with the fighters from Mistledale. Florin tries to reassure them, implying the gods will watch over them, but one of the militia fearfully asks if the gods will actually be at the battle. At this point, I’d hardly be surprised… An older rider reassures him, and they end up agreeing to hold a competition to see who can kill the most Zhents (well, it’s not as if the Zhents stand any chance of actually winning, the way Greenwood writes them…). Then the young rider faints, though Florin catches him and helps several of the others get him back into his saddle. They banter a bit more until the young rider awakens, looks around at everyone… and then faints again, ha, ha, as the chapter ends.
MG: And so it does. This one honestly feels mostly like setup, though we do get the fallout from the undead Zhent attack that was set up last chapter, and we also meet Amglor (who’ll be a major antagonist for the rest of the “Battle of Shadowdale” plotline and is at least moderately interesting) and get some Zhent intrigue (that mostly doesn’t go anywhere, save for killing off Interchangeable Zhent Wizard #256, and doesn’t even fully explain the motivations or roles of everyone involved) and we got some more “comedy” with the Knights, that mostly serves to reinforce how insufferable they all are (Florin’s the best of the lot, but after his showing in the prequels, let’s say I find it really hard to appreciate him unreservedly…). Not a lot else to talk about here. Next time… more Knights, more Zhents, more of the Dales, and some of the Malaugrym make their first move! We’ll see you then!
