And I have written again. Yes I know, I am a bad person for writing new fics without finishing the old. Oh, well. I'm in a D&D mood.
Power is a Fragile Thing
A FR/HP crossover by Satori
Chapter 1: Part A
The best way to survive as an adventuring Magic-user, Xan had drilled into her, from the start, was to not appear to be one. The gaudy, magically patterned robes favored by so many wizards just tended to scream "CASTER! THREAT! KILL IT FIRST!" That was okay with her. She didn't want to wear robes anyway, Edwin's nattering about tradition and pride notwithstanding. Xan himself was careful to dress like a merely mundane scholar, exuding an aura of meekness and absentminded befuddlement. It was a good disguise, for him. Perhaps it was vanity, but Imoen preferred a more vibrant persona. Thus a finely cut linen jacket hid the Twilight Mithril Chain- not as obvious as the usual Robes of the Archmagi and Bracers of Armor, but something that still screamed "ARCANIST!" to those in the know, and the Headband of Intellect (which despite the name, most definitely did not make one smarter; the now-dead wizard she had gotten it off of was a first-class idiot), was buried beneath an array of ribbons in her hair. All in all, she might have passed for a vain townsperson or a street entertainer if not for the short sword at her waist and the bow slung across her back. Still, she looked like a roguish type- a girl of blade and trickery- not that she wasn't, but this mischief-maker was also a mage. The fact that her clothes were currently a bright cheery pink also helped. She found it made people fail to take her seriously; often much to their chagrin. It was also served to disguise her identity. People remembered the bright colors rather than her face.
Of course, she would need more than misdirection to complete her current mission: recovering an artifact from Durstyle Keep. She could probably bluff or sneak her way in the keep proper, but the catacombs below were defended by ages old traps and magical wards, rather than the less than impressive Brass Moon Guard. The Guard boasted spiffy uniforms but judging from the laxity of their patrol by the bridge, they hadn't fought anything but disorganized bandit bands in at least a decade. Ah, well, first things first: getting into town. She could already tell this would be fun; the old veteran manning the gate looked like he was actually competent.
The gatekeeper glared at her cheerful smile and casual stride. "Another damned Adventurer. Haven't you heard? The Duke's closed off the dungeons below the keep. He's had enough of you reckless hoodlums wandering down there and stealing everything."
"Dungeon?" Imoen allowed her eyes to widen in false surprise. "There's a dungeon here? And here I thought that was a quiet town, not one of those Wizard's Follies."
"So you're not here to go grave-robbing?" The soldier eyed her suspiciously.
Let him. Imoen knew all to well how to exploit her youthful face and childlike demeanor. "Grave Robbing! That sounds positively ghastly," she exclaimed. "No, I'd heard there were good prices for swords here, and I thought to unload the ones I collected from the Red Band." Duke Teibald was raising forces, and needed equipment; that would probably be enough incentive to get here in.
"You've been fighting the Red Band?" The veteran gate guard wasn't even skeptical. Who knew what the little slip of a girl might be? He'd seen Halfling warbands -and their skill at ambushes- and knew not to judge by appearance. And the fact that she didn't have a wagon behind her, yet intended to sell weapons, implied she was successful enough an Adventurer to have one of those magical bags. It was entirely credible that she had been hunting brigands in the forest.
"Certainly not by myself!" In truth Imoen could probably have dismantled the band of marauders on her own; but that would have taken too long. "I was with a party of bounty hunters -sell swords from Tethyr at a guess- and a Ranger along to track those highwaymen."
"And where are these mercenaries now?" The guardsman asked. He'd already decided to grant this girl -no, adventurer admittance, but his liege might have an interest in swords for hire.
"Well, after we raided the bandit's camp they decided to try and earn more bounties -collect a few more ears." Imoen allowed some of her revulsion at that to show. She had few qualms about killing to protect the defenseless, but hunting men as much for sport as anything; that was not something she could approve of. "I stayed behind to collect the equipment from the dead brigands- my share of the reward." She had also helped Renaul clean up the mess and restore harmony to the area; it was always paid to cultivate good relations with the Rangers and Druids who protected the land.
"Very well, you may enter. You'll find the Sutler in the northwest quarter; he's the one you want to talk to if you wish to sell weapons. I warn you, however, that we take the law seriously here. If you cause any trouble, you'll be out on your bum. And don't think I wont warn the constabulary to watch out for you. You've the look of a thief, and I'll have none of that."
"It's treasure hunter, sir," she replied, as she walked by.
"Treasure hunter. Sure."
Power is a Fragile Thing
A FR/HP crossover by Satori
Chapter 1: Part A
The best way to survive as an adventuring Magic-user, Xan had drilled into her, from the start, was to not appear to be one. The gaudy, magically patterned robes favored by so many wizards just tended to scream "CASTER! THREAT! KILL IT FIRST!" That was okay with her. She didn't want to wear robes anyway, Edwin's nattering about tradition and pride notwithstanding. Xan himself was careful to dress like a merely mundane scholar, exuding an aura of meekness and absentminded befuddlement. It was a good disguise, for him. Perhaps it was vanity, but Imoen preferred a more vibrant persona. Thus a finely cut linen jacket hid the Twilight Mithril Chain- not as obvious as the usual Robes of the Archmagi and Bracers of Armor, but something that still screamed "ARCANIST!" to those in the know, and the Headband of Intellect (which despite the name, most definitely did not make one smarter; the now-dead wizard she had gotten it off of was a first-class idiot), was buried beneath an array of ribbons in her hair. All in all, she might have passed for a vain townsperson or a street entertainer if not for the short sword at her waist and the bow slung across her back. Still, she looked like a roguish type- a girl of blade and trickery- not that she wasn't, but this mischief-maker was also a mage. The fact that her clothes were currently a bright cheery pink also helped. She found it made people fail to take her seriously; often much to their chagrin. It was also served to disguise her identity. People remembered the bright colors rather than her face.
Of course, she would need more than misdirection to complete her current mission: recovering an artifact from Durstyle Keep. She could probably bluff or sneak her way in the keep proper, but the catacombs below were defended by ages old traps and magical wards, rather than the less than impressive Brass Moon Guard. The Guard boasted spiffy uniforms but judging from the laxity of their patrol by the bridge, they hadn't fought anything but disorganized bandit bands in at least a decade. Ah, well, first things first: getting into town. She could already tell this would be fun; the old veteran manning the gate looked like he was actually competent.
The gatekeeper glared at her cheerful smile and casual stride. "Another damned Adventurer. Haven't you heard? The Duke's closed off the dungeons below the keep. He's had enough of you reckless hoodlums wandering down there and stealing everything."
"Dungeon?" Imoen allowed her eyes to widen in false surprise. "There's a dungeon here? And here I thought that was a quiet town, not one of those Wizard's Follies."
"So you're not here to go grave-robbing?" The soldier eyed her suspiciously.
Let him. Imoen knew all to well how to exploit her youthful face and childlike demeanor. "Grave Robbing! That sounds positively ghastly," she exclaimed. "No, I'd heard there were good prices for swords here, and I thought to unload the ones I collected from the Red Band." Duke Teibald was raising forces, and needed equipment; that would probably be enough incentive to get here in.
"You've been fighting the Red Band?" The veteran gate guard wasn't even skeptical. Who knew what the little slip of a girl might be? He'd seen Halfling warbands -and their skill at ambushes- and knew not to judge by appearance. And the fact that she didn't have a wagon behind her, yet intended to sell weapons, implied she was successful enough an Adventurer to have one of those magical bags. It was entirely credible that she had been hunting brigands in the forest.
"Certainly not by myself!" In truth Imoen could probably have dismantled the band of marauders on her own; but that would have taken too long. "I was with a party of bounty hunters -sell swords from Tethyr at a guess- and a Ranger along to track those highwaymen."
"And where are these mercenaries now?" The guardsman asked. He'd already decided to grant this girl -no, adventurer admittance, but his liege might have an interest in swords for hire.
"Well, after we raided the bandit's camp they decided to try and earn more bounties -collect a few more ears." Imoen allowed some of her revulsion at that to show. She had few qualms about killing to protect the defenseless, but hunting men as much for sport as anything; that was not something she could approve of. "I stayed behind to collect the equipment from the dead brigands- my share of the reward." She had also helped Renaul clean up the mess and restore harmony to the area; it was always paid to cultivate good relations with the Rangers and Druids who protected the land.
"Very well, you may enter. You'll find the Sutler in the northwest quarter; he's the one you want to talk to if you wish to sell weapons. I warn you, however, that we take the law seriously here. If you cause any trouble, you'll be out on your bum. And don't think I wont warn the constabulary to watch out for you. You've the look of a thief, and I'll have none of that."
"It's treasure hunter, sir," she replied, as she walked by.
"Treasure hunter. Sure."