4. The Friendly Arm Inn

Jaheira's face is streaked with dirt and even some darker smears of blood, but even her grim face brightens at the sight of Aiwe and Stella. She leans forward in her chair. "Is it true the iron ore coming out of Nashkel was poisoned? And that your group put a stop to the ordeal, fighting through a horde of evil priests and their summoned demons?"

"That's...what I was afraid of...So now we have the Chill, Blacktalons, aaand a Cult of Shar all there." Stella bemoans. "Maybe that's another element we can use to destabilize things?" She smiles tiredly up at Bently. "Thank you for your help."

She pokes at her food, then takes another bite as Khalid and Jaheira approach. Chewing on some bacon, Stella gives them a weak smile and nods, then swallows.

It seemed her message didn't make it to them. Even though it was hidden with an illusion, she had instructed Noctalia to toss it in a fire if she couldn't find the contacts. At least now they could discuss with certainty.

"One evil priest of Cyric, and 'kobolds', not demons," she explains. "Though they might as well have been demons..." she scratches as her abdomen where a kobold's flaming arrow had shot her.

She and Aiwë start to fill them in on what happened with Mayor Ghastkill, the poison, the gnolls and Red Wizard, the job with Aldous Silvershield, the assassins in Beregost, Ajantis' betrayal of Aldous, their failed attempt to rescue him, and their current goals regarding taking down the multi-faceted mercenary camp (that may or may not also involve cultists now).

Dieter struts out of the Fist office relieved to have his Martial ability finally respected.

Fighting men and woman Dieter thought to himself he knew now that when engaged in mortal combat he wasn’t fighting his enemy but himself, his own weakness and desires. To be the best he would overcome his natural man, Combat was just comparing discipline and revealing your true nature.

Smelling food he realizes he’s hungry "we should eat, you’re probably wanting some real cooked food rather than travelling rations,Ida. I know I am.

Jaheira's frown deepens with each added detail of the Nashkel plot, but her half-elven eyes glitter as she takes in the information, her Harper's mind already sorting through the implications.

Khalid is no less eager for details, but he's a much better listener. He's appropriately surprised and impressed at Stella's retelling of the party's challenges and findings thus far.

(Insight: Each time Viconia is mentioned, though, the two Harpers adopt near-identical masks of emotionless disinterest. They know more about this drow than they're letting on at the moment.)

Jaheira shrugs at the mention of the Sharran cult. "Remember that when a gnome says something happened a long time ago, he speaks on a scale of centuries. The Harpers put down that Sharran cult two hundred years ago." She accepts Khalid's weathered hand as he places it over her own. "It's much more likely that this priestess of the Lady of Loss is a lone asset to whoever's pulling the strings on the Sword Coast."

At some point while Runeson's in the common room, Bentley Mirrorshade stops by his table to hand him an envelope. "Courier brought this by last week, said I'd hold onto it for you." The gnome proprietor reaches up to pat Runeson's shoulder in a friendly manner, then wanders off seeing to other customers.

The envelope has Runeson's name written on it. The handwriting is elegant and graceful.

Stella frowns and nods. Well that was a relief, at least. "What else do you know about this priestess?" Stella asks them, finishing up her mashed potatoes, purposely and clearly trying to adopt the uninterested look Jaheira and Khalid had donned.

She wasn't sure she wanted to mention how they had helped this drow escape the Fists. If anyone else wanted to bring it up, they could do so, she decided.

Khalid sighs at Stella's question, while Jaheira breathes out sharply through her nose. They exchange a glance, and then Jaheira speaks.

"Viconia DeVir was a friend of sorts once. Renegade drow who forsake the ways of their kin and come to the surface seeking sanctuary and acceptance are rare. Drizzt Do'Urden himself would be one on a very short list. Viconia is... not on that list. Not really. When she emerged from the Underdark, the Harpers kept tabs on her, as we do all such drow. At the time she was a cleric without a god, not knowing to whom she should dedicate her faith. She was bereft of all but the simplest cantrips. When she suffered at the hands of humans and other surface-dwellers, we intervened and offered aid, hoping that she might choose a beneficent surface deity to worship, or even Eilistraee, the goddess of redeemed drow."

Jaheira runs a hand through her hair. "But her time among her kin left dark stains on her heart, and she was unable to come to terms with any acceptable doctrine. That's when she turned her allegiance to Shar, to hide her deepest wounds and fears in the impenetrable darkness offered by the Lady of Loss." The druid's voice is tinged with bitterness. "She engaged in acts just as vile as those she'd left behind in the Underdark. We had to put a stop to her, and so we did. But when the time came for the killing blow..."

Khalid covers his face with a hand, hiding his eyes. Jaheira sighs and rubs a hand on his back. "Peace, Khalid. Compassion is one of the many traits I admire in you."

She turns back to Stella and Aiwe, her steel voice at odds a sharp contrast to the comforting tone she just used with Khalid. "Well. We wounded Viconia's ambition as much as anything. She fled the Sword Coast, and passed beyond our network of Harper eyes and ears. We'd heard nothing of her again until now."

Jaheira puts a hand firmly onto the tabletop as she looks into the eyes of each party member. "I can't tell you what you should do with her, should you come across her again... But be wary! She possesses great cunning, and is capable of even greater cruelty."

"I helped her escape Beregost," Aiwë sighs. "The guards couldn't tell me anything she had actually done wrong, so when we came across her, I distracted them so she could escape. What I should do next time is clear, and she knows it."

She looks between the two Harpers. "Whatever Viconia is up to with Lord Silvershield she's involved in the larger plot with the Iron Crisis, I'm certain. Even if not, his hours are numbered. Can you offer any other assistance before we leave?"

"W-we sent some of our agents to look into the assassins you met on the road out of Candlekeep." Khalid clears his throat. "Several of these allies have... disappeared. Which in our line of work means captured or... k-killed."

He absently tightens a strap on his vambrace. "All H-harpers know the risks. We stand r-ready to give our l-l-lives for the greater... good." The half-elf looks up. "I jus-just thought you'd like to be aware. Of their sacrifice, I mean."

Aiwë glances sideways at Stella, wondering how she will take the news.

"Thank you, Khalid, and my thanks to the Harpers. May Torm bring justice to their killers, if his mercy cannot bring them home." She drums twice on the table to seal her prayer, then stands.

"Perhaps we can be that mercy or justice. We need to follow the lead Master Mirrorshade gave us. Hopefully we will see you again in our way back through."

Aiwë was right. Helping Viconia was a joint effort and decision. And it seemed Jaheira saw compassion as a strength, not foolishness. Stella couldn't blame herself.

It still sickened her, though, to think about people getting captured and killed for looking into their assassins. She pokes at the remains of her food, and decides she's had her fill. She pushes her chair back and stands without a word, expression equal parts tired and distraught. Unlike Kreguuk, those Harpers likely wouldn't be found and brought back to life.

She nods politely at Jaheira and Khalid. "Thank you. I'm...going to find Ida and see Miss Mirrorshade about some potions and scrolls."

Ida nods "Properly cooked food sounds good. Hopefully, the others had success in the tasks that they set out to work on" Ida works her way to the inn with Deiter