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The city of Luskan was a cesspool. Garbage stewed about the gutters and the streets, as smoke rose from piles of corpses as easily as chimneys, the air stale with death. Still, some called the place home. One man in particular had set sail many a time, but had always returned to his place. When he had been a boy, he had dressed in rags and prowled the streets. As a man, he wore dusty boots and breeches, accompanied by a faded white tunic, and a long red coat. The blade of a saber twinkled in the sparse torchlight, catching light from the buckles on his belt and the gold rings in his ears. Tied around his forehead was a scarlet bandana, and beneath them sat a pair of multi-colored eyes, one black as coal, the other the same bright orange of a tangerine.

"Is your name really 'Tiger Eyes'?" A young girl had asked him the other day as he visited the tavern, clutching her stuffed bear to her chest as she and the other refugee children listened to him tell tales of the sea.

"Aye, that be it." The smile on the pirate's scruffy face had been nothing short of wry. "Me mum didn' live long enough past me birth to give me a name, proper-like. The harlots and thieves I kept with and named me fine enough, on account o' me face."

The scholars and wizards lurking about the Hosttower would call him uneducated. But he had a store of knowledge rattling about in his skull. He knew to skulk about and keep hidden when all seemed idle, for strange things lurked in the shadows of this world, and it was better to join them then to be prey to the creatures that walked about open-like. He knew to scurry away from whatever cramped corner he claimed for a home when the rats began to die, for disease would soon come for the larger residents. He knew how the shine of a dagger and a few savvy words could be enough to escape a round or two of fists. He knew that the glint of gold was tempting, but never worth it without a proper plan or thought of how to get it. He knew that men with lights dancing about their fingers were not to be trifled with, and anyone showing about a holy symbol, a book of witchcraft, or even a silver pin, could not always be trusted to look after others. He knew his people were those that lurked everywhere, yet were never truly seen. The whores, the thieves, the beggars, the laborers, the mothers of children with tattered clothes and grimy fingers…no one cared for them, but they were his people. And he knew that they wished only one thing: To be left alone in peace, to live their lives, without the interference of higher powers. Lawless men had no need and no use for order, and would do better to be left to their own matters. Yet, those in powers either cared nothing for his people, or cared too much, and whispered sainted words that brought agony upon his people's heads. He would not allow that.

He knew of Kurth. A quick flash of his orange eye, and he saw countless battles, the man in the middle of them cutting down soldiers like rows of wheat, a frenzied smile decorating his bloodstained face during the carnage. Such a man would leave rivers of blood in the street. And his rival, a man with a gaunt, sallow face, gnarled teeth poking past his thin, chapped lips, and nails curled and long enough to pass for claws, was no better. He saw the man as a boy, skinny and underfed, living in the sewers and feasting off the same things the rats saw as treasures. He saw him cowering away from any real threat, but taking no issue in stealing a noble lady's lapdog, or a young lass's kitten, and soon enough, a mewling babe right out the arms of his mother, as a meal. This was a man with a pox batting about his skull, and a plague all his own upon Tiger's people. Neither of these men would make for suitable rulers.

Still, mad as those two captains were, it was the man with the sparkling fingers, locked away in his ivory tower, that would make a mess of things. Kurth's own carnage would pale in comparison to the ocean of blood Maugrim promised, and it would not just be the children snatched away from sight as Baram had planned…it would be the young and able, forced into armies to fight under a banner they cared nothing for. The old and the crippled would be fodder for sacrifice to a strange god. Even the dead would not rest. The dead would be taken from their rest, their weary bones made to stand and run, to throw fists and kicks as readily as any flesh-and-blood, breathing soldier. No, Tiger could not allow such a thing in his city. As poor a life was promised to his folk…they would fare much worse under any of these men.

A tinge of a smile quirked the corners of his lips. Perhaps it was time to pass a proper leadership unto a woman, silver pin or not.

Still, the question lingered about his mind: Would she be a good lass and watch over his fair city, or just another tyrant with a rapier and a captain's hat?

But, that was information that would come to him soon enough. In the meantime, A tune settled into the frame of Tiger's mind as he crossed his boots across the cobblestones, and he found himself putting it into words.

"Come me old one, come me fair one, come now unto me. Could you fancy a poor sailor lad who has just come from sea?"

"You are ragged, love, and you're dirty, love, and your clothes smell much of tar."

Tiger turned to see a familiar woman crossing out of the shadows, white hair swept over her head so as to allow only one wintergreen eye to peek out from her bangs, carrying a smile in their depths as sure as the one that set upon her dark lips.

"So be gone you, saucy sailor lad, so be gone you, jack tar." The woman finished, offering a hand to the pirate.

The pirate was quick to let a grin dash across his face, as he took her hand. "If I am ragged, love, and I am dirty, love, and me clothes much of tar, I have silver in me pocket, love, and gold in great store."

The woman returned that same grin, and continued, "And then when she heard him say so,
on her bended knee she fell, I will marry my dear Henry, for I love a sailor lad so well."

The pair began to dance, a silly thing to do out in the streets, to be sure, but Tiger cared little for the burning corpses about them. The two of them saw enough of death in their days that it deserved a song and a dance some times.

"Do you think that I am foolish love? Do you think that I am mad? For to wed with a poor country girl where no fortune's to be had?" He continued, giving her a twirl, and smiling at the delight streaming over her face. As much as she waded through death, he knew that dance was her passion. Best to give her a little something of it, given how much she'd doubtlessly been through in the past weeks.

Coarse, half-gloved fingers curled over her back, and drew her close, as they stepped together. "I will cross the briny ocean, I will whistle and sing. And since you've refused the offer love
some other girl shall wear the ring."

Easily following his lead, the woman finished, "I am frolicsome and I am easy, good tempered and free. And I don't give a single pin me boys what the world thinks of me."

The woman leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was a friendly thing, as their flirting was, but it would never progress past that. Time and circumstance had left a ghost floating in their hearts, a ghost that shared the name of her husband, and his best friend. Tiger, like any other sailor, was superstitious, and knew better than to taunt this ghost with the courtship of his wife. Plus…the thought of it replaced that shadow in his heart with an ache. If he and Lyme ever saw fit to court each other…there would be nothing between them but the shadow of a man they'd both cared for.

"Ye're a sight for sore eyes, lass." Tiger greeted, smiling as the petite woman pushed back her hood, showing off to the world the extent of dark elven heritage. "How'd yeh like Neverwinter, Lyme?"

"Eh. Hopeless, doomsayers on every corner where stacks of bodies aren't already taking residence, stray dogs laying down and dying in the streets, old men cowering behind stone walls while pretty elves run about, trying to save the place, no one pays income taxes anymore…Not to mention the children are filthy." Lyme shrugged. "All in all, not so different from here."

Tiger chuckled at the drow's description. "Did yeh get a good look at the ringleaders?"

"Yep. There's a helmite, an elven cleric, an elven paladin, old Nasher, and a blonde." Lyme informed him, before frowning. "And you know what else? There was another drow spying on everyone! She stole all my good hiding spots too! Didn't even ask if she could use them! The nerve! Is there no etiquette left in espionage these days? I mean, we could have met up, coordinated, taken shifts, compared notes…"

"And what notes migh' those be, lass?"

"Well, the plague is cured, that's the good part. But not without hassle." Lyme sighed. "The helmite was responsible, but the elven cleric supported him, and totally ran off and inadvertently made himself look like a traitorous asshole on the way out. So, the mob strung him up from a tree. Totally fucked the elven paladin right in the head, too. I mean, you should have seen the look on her face when he was hanging there. I…well…it wasn't pleasant."

One of the visions that had brought tears to Tiger's multi-colored eyes even after he was well and grown had been the sight of Lyme and her husband, and the last time they would be together. He'd seen his best friend and his wife torn right out of their home and brought to Luskan. Gabriel…his punishment had been quick, but brutal. A sentencing to the Prisoner's Carnival was a sick master, and Tiger's orange eyes had shown him Lyme screaming as Gabe's guts were torn clear from his mouth. But, the lass only caught a quick eyeful, before she herself was nailed to a plank of wood, and left to rot outside of Luskan, parched and bleeding in the hot sun, as the crows began to circle. And he was nowhere to be found, too far out in the sea of stars to get there in time to spirit them away. But Lyme…she was a lucky lass, and savvy as well. A good partnership, and one that had allowed her to break free from her prison, and press forward, stumbling through the streets of Luskan until she reached the Belladonna, collapsing on the pier, as he and his crew rushed to gather her up.

Still, that had been many years past, and Lyme was quick to pick herself up. She had her time of weeping, and she let go of it, remembering Gabe as she loved him, not as she'd lost him. And when she mourned him, she honored his loss through action, not words of despair.

And this showed, as Lyme was quick to breach a different subject. "Still, I get that she's all rattled and everything right now, but I think she could have done better. I mean the guy she was with, Fenthick…I'm gonna be honest, I totally thought he was slipping it to the helmite on the side. I mean, the paladin would fawn all over him if anyone ever asked about him, but if anyone asked about her, he'd just be like, 'Oh yeah, she's cool. Did you hear about Desther's blessings'? I totally thought that they were together, at least until I saw him cheat on the paladin with some brothel mistress. In fact, I saw the whole thing. Paladin wasn't missing out on much, truth be told. Her friend though, the blonde, was good about it. I mean, she was supportive and such, but she spoke her mind as well, and say things like, 'Oh my Eilistraee, dude, I totally get that you love Fenthick, but he's a trifling ho, and I know your mama taught you not to love these hos, but if you marry him that's your deal. Still though. Gross.' At least I think that's what she said. Don't quote me on that, I didn't have time to get it verbatim before the other drow started heading right for *my* shadow. Thief. And after all the time I spent staking it out, too."

Folding her arms over her small chest, the little drow quirked her head. "So are you ready to tell me what this is all about, Tiger? You know I trust you. I trust your visions, as they're yet to lead us astray. But…it'd be nice to know what your intentions are. Why the sudden interest in your city? Seems like you've been nothing but eager to sail out of Luskan and explore the world in previous years."

"That be true. But tis as I told ye: There be a plague in the south, affectin' the whole of Neverwinter. My eye's been itchin', tellin' me that'll it'll be 'ere soon enough."

"We have clerics. I can call up Rel. If there's a cure, she'll find it." Lyme offered as she walked with him.

"Aye, that be true, but 'tis the sickness in the heart that I worry fer, not the sickness in the breath." Tiger shook his head. "Stormclouds be settlin' over the city. They'll drift toward our own soon enough. I donnae plan ter lose this 'ere city ter a war that can' be won wit' swords."

"And here you are again, calling it 'your city', and claiming some sort of ownership." A smile quirked the corner of her lips. "So. Come on. What's the plan?"

"Sufferin' be painted in every corner o' this place." Tiger remarked quietly. "I saw it as a lad, I see it now as a grown man. The mages, sittin' in their gilded tower…they donnae bring life in ter the 'eart of the city. It be time fer new leadership. No more Prisoner's Carnivals for those that be thinkin' different like."

"Right." Lyme nodded with a scowl.

But it would not last for long, as such seriousness did not suit her.

"So. There's bound to be a lot of gold stored up in Kurth and Baram's lairs." Lyme smirked. "What do you suppose you're going to do with it? And all the gold you plan to accumulate once you rule this place?"

"Rum. Wenches. Me usual bit." Tiger replied, chuckling as Lyme swatted his shoulder.

"Don't give me that! Tiger, I know you better at this point."

"Aye, that ye do, lass." Tiger smiled softly, looking around the streets of Luskan. While his obsidian eye saw piles of corpses, garbage staining the sidewalks, and blood the cobblestones, his orange one saw small, clean buildings, with children about, parchment and quill clasped in their little fingers, rather than someone's purse strings, or a makeshift knife.

"Schools, lass." He murmured softly. "This place needs a mighty high number of places to serve the public. Only way now to get a bit o' schoolin' is ter 'ave gold or magic between yer fingers, and the wee ones with neither…well, I'm sure yeh noticed that I don' speak like a noble lad. Give the wee ones a bit o' schoolin'…and watch the world around yeh turn to gold."

Lyme smiled softly at the notion. "I think Gabe would have liked that idea too."

"Aye, lass, I'm sure he would. He'd be volunteerin' ter teach every class…and the wee ones o' Luskan would run him good n' ragged."

"Ha! He'd make it through though. He was tough like that." Lyme chuckled, and her smile softened once more at the thought of her fallen husband. "It would be the sort of thing that he could pour his heart into. He'd love it. Even if one of the kids did set his scrolls on the tenants of Ilmater on fire."

"Aye. And I cannae help wonderin' where they'd get such a bold thought."

"Well…that depends entirely on how long-winded Gabe's preaching about his crush on Ilmater got."

"You would have a bit o' tinder and flint ready after the first sentence."

"Would not! I'd let him crush on Ilmater for a good hour or two before I resorted to arson." Lyme laughed, her wintergreen eyes sparkling at the good memories. "He used to get so huffy whenever I accused him of having a crush on his god."

"T'was true enough, though he'd be loathe to admit it." Tiger grinned. "But I think yeh shared his heart sure enough."

"I know I did." Lyme's smile saddened for a bit, but she shook off the threat of bad memories, as she always did, and cast another grin at Tiger. "So schools. What comes next?"

"What comes first, yeh mean. The city ain't me own just yet, Missus Kiwi." Tiger tapped his chin. "In fact, I'm thinkin' it may be best to 'and it over to a more suitable candidate than meself."

"You had a vision?" Lyme queried. "I hope you're not talking about Kurth or Baram."

"Nay, neither of 'em. Tis a lady I be thinkin' of. A proper captain too, at that."

"You mean the one that's been squatting here for the last few months? The elf?" Lyme quirked a brow. "Good luck getting an audience. I hear she doesn't care much for men."

"Aye, but I have me methods of speakin' ter 'er." Tiger grinned at Lyme. "I be plannin' ter tell 'er that durin' one of me sails, me crewmates and meself crashed upon a pasha's land in Calimshan. Durin' that time, the pasha took a knife ter me belt and sliced me good and proper, so as ter look over 'is harem lasses. Even if I wished ter frighten 'er, I 'aven't the proper tools to do so. Should calm 'er a bit ter think that."

Lyme smirked, then burst into laughter. "A eunuch? Really? That's what you're going to tell her? Tiger, there's a fair amount of tavern wenches at the Cutlass that would argue differently."

"Paid the lot of 'em fer their silence." Tiger explained with a shrug. "Man has ter keep 'is reputation."

"I see. And if she finds out you're not a eunuch?"

"Well, if she ever finds 'erself gettin' an eyeful o' truth, I pray it'll be durin' a time when she'll be feelin' more grateful than angry."

"Otherwise, you may actually become a eunuch." Lyme smirked again. "I'd like to see how this all plays out."

As they walked, Tiger felt a strange itching sensation in his left eye, reaching up to rub the orange globe. But the itch did not recede.

In fact, even as he turned to reach for his saber, Lyme let out a screech of pain. She was an assassin trained, but she was not talented at the vocation, as a result, she was surprised when a group of Baram's men lurched forward from the shadows, her own domain, and blasted a spell of light right into her eyes, blinding her and causing her to stumble, even as Tiger ran his blade through the guts of a nearby cleric, severing his intestines as he worked to speak an incantation. The bottle of holy water he'd been holding fell to the ground, and a warrior companion of his with it.

While Tiger faced off against the enemies, Lyme reached for her knives, and lurched forward, cursing as she missed the nearby rogue. Before he could plant a knife in her back, she kicked backward, sending him into one of the empty crates that seemed to litter the whole of Luskan. She'd really need to look into that when she had time. Thankfully, he was slow to get to his feet, and Lyme was able to slash downward, cutting his throat in a quick gesture.

Even if she had no passion for it, she could certainly be a killer when needed.

Still, she was not good enough to turn and save Tiger as a rogue flitted through the shadows, plunging his shurikens into the two, as a mage chanted spells. A barrier of blades appeared, and ripped right through Tiger's skin, sending him to the ground in a puddle of red, rushing blood, while fire lanced up the length of Lyme's leg.

The assassin knew when she was cornered. She knew death, she knew when it was knocking at her door. After these two years, she would have welcomed its embrace with open arms, for she knew it was only another path, not an ending. But this time was different. She would not allow it to claim Tiger as well.

Dark, trembling fingers clasped over the pack of the fallen cleric, searching the contents and quickly drawing a vial of clear liquid, a silver smoke drifting hazily outside as soon as she uncorked the bottle. She was not powerful. Being the youngest of her siblings, she had grown up knowing this. She was not strong like Sol, nor cunning like Val, nor as good a healer as Rel, nor did she have Jhael, Adin, and Ili's capacity for magic, nor Shar's gift for words, nor Bel's capacity to stay out of trouble. She was not level headed like Jys, nor gifted with a manic ability to carve up bodies, as Gin was. Even her abilities as a shadow dancer, and an assassin, and a cleric, were mediocre at best.

But she did have her luck. And she had one last trick up her sleeve.

So, she lifted up the bottle, and poured the substance onto her open palm. The blessed water threatened to burn a hole clean through her skin, but she could feel it working as she let out a howl of utter rage, her wintergreen eyes blazing a fierce red, as claws shot forth from her hands, and fangs lengthened her teeth.

There was nothing of her carefree spirit in this moment. There was no rage, for she was not some crazed beast. Instead, there was a calculating smile, and speed, and tactics. She knew exactly what to do, when to dodge as the mage flung a round of spellfire in her direction. How to lunge forward, and sink her claws deep into his neck, long before he could even have a chance to grow gangs and talons of his own. It was not some enraged slash across his throat. It was surgical, precise, intended to induce as much pain as possible in a split second, before his arteries burst, and he collapsed, dead.

The diabolic part of her was unamused by the spray of blood that covered her face after the fatal blow was delivered. It was too messy, too riddled with error. She would not accept that next time. Next time, she would take care of the worthless ones, then spirit their leader to some dark place, torturing him until he was broken in mind and spirit, left nothing but a husk to serve her pleasure—

Wait. Wait, this wasn't what she wanted. Tiger was still there, and he was growing pale. He would die soon.

So? That was the response of the diabolical part of her. Forget his plans. She could have all of Luskan if she wished. To the pits of hell with Tiger! He did not deserve this city. She deserved it. She deserved pirate captains serving at her feet, and the heads of every host tower mage on a pike. Oh, it would take time, but she could create a plan, make every fool in this city cut the throats of their friends and family if she so wished. She would start first, in fact. It would be so easy to retrieve Tiger's fallen saber, and plant it firmly in his own chest. Better yet, she could use his corpse to her advantage. Make it look as though he had been a soldier of Kurth's, cut down by Baram. Yes, with some precise planning, that could be enough to draw them into open conflict, instead of these ridiculous skirmishes they held in the street. Yes, she could--

"Lass." Tiger's voice emerged as a croak, as he clutched his side in a weak gesture, doing all he could not to slip into unconsciousness. "Let it go."

Let it go. Yes. The schemes began to fade then, turning hazy as Lyme's claws receded, and her eyes drew back to their normal green. She did not have power, that much was true. But she had luck, and something even better. She had the ability to let go, and carry on with her life. And that was a blessing that had saved her soul a hundred times over.

And so, she let go of the past once more, and found herself focusing on the present, kneeling down despite a weariness that sank deep into her bones, and pressing glowing green fingers to Tiger's side.

"It won't stop the bleeding, but it will slow it." The assassin assured the pirate, slinging an arm around his waist, and using what remained of her might to pull them both to their shaking feet. "And I'd be really bummed out if you dropped dead on the street, so let's get you someplace safe."

"Yer sainted, lass." Tiger chuckled, despite the searing pain in his gut. "Temple o' Tyr is nearby, though they may not take too kindly ter the sight o' a drow lass."

"Not a bad idea. I suppose I can just throw you on the steps, knock on the door, and run off, like some single mother and her unwanted child." Lyme chuckled. "Think it would help if I put you in a wicker basket and left a note?"

"Aye, it might. Though I can make it in ter the temple, and sneak ye a potion if ye can take to the shadows."

"I can manage it. Just need to bandage up a few wounds. I think bleeding all over the floors might give me away." Keeping her arms firmly around Tiger's waist, Lyme stepped forward, only to have a vicious cramp sieze her one leg, and a fresh wound on the other to open further, exposing raw calf muscle. "Holy whistling tits, that hurts!"

"Whose bloody tits do yeh know ter whistle?"

"Dunno. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that ever walked this plane, though."

"Aye." Tiger looked down, and saw that Lyme's footsteps were now dripping with blood. Thinking it best to keep her distracted from just how serious her wounds were becoming with each step, he asked, "What do yeh suppose is?"

"Cespenar." Lyme's answer was rapid fire and unhesitant.

"Lass, what be a--"

"Don't ask. Mask, just don't." The assassin sighed, then muttered under her breath, "Fucking imp always hitting on my husband…fucking imp and his fucking giant imp boner for Bhaalspawn…"

Tiger thought it best not to inquire as to that train of thought as they headed for the nearby temple.

---***---

The next day, a violet-eyed drow looked up from her guard post, watching as another dark elf materialized out of the shadows, lips puckered around a tiny stick.

With a slight pop, a hard, blueberry sphere of candy was produced, situated on the end of said stick.

"What the hell is that?"

"This? It's a lollipop." Lyme explained reasonably, pointing to the candied object. "Surfacer children go apeshit over these."

"So you're stealing candy from children now?"

"Of course not!" Lyme scoffed. "I traded him for it. One cup of whiskey."

"I'm sure his mother was delighted about that, assuming he has a mother." Ili replied in a dry voice, before catching sight of her sister's blue-stained lips and teeth. "Get rid of it. You look like you've been blowing a smurf."

The younger assassin blinked, and tossed it away, throwing it with enough force that it broke the window of a nearby house.

Thinking quickly, Lyme crouched behind one of the crates scattered about the street, leaving Ili out in the open as a gaunt-faced woman yelled through the hole, "Bloody idiot! You owe me for this window!"

But a quick flash of the wicked looking dagger pressed to Ili's belt was enough to make the woman pale, and scurry back inside her home, not eager to tempt the acerbic woman.

Shaking her head, Ili reached down to yank Lyme out from behind the crates. "I still don't understand how in the hell you managed to become a full fledged assassin. You have all the subtlety of a rampaging bull."

"You know, it's a funny story." Lyme remarked with a still blue grin, standing to her feet.

"If I have to hear it, then fix your face." Ili shook her head, taking out a pack of cigarettes.

Lyme eyed the carton as she took out her canteen. "Those are bad for you, you know."

"Oh really?" Ili quirked a brow, and snapped her fingers, purple light appearing as she lit the end of her cigarette. "What is that you're drinking?"

"Water."

"Fish shit in that."

Lyme immediately gagged as she took a swallow of the cool liquid, leading Ili to smirk as the latter glared. "Would you like to hear my story now?"

"If I must." Ili looked at Lyme, then reached into her pocket, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at Lyme's face, even as the latter scrambled to get away.

"Stop that!"

"You have just a little something--"

"Leave it!"

"You look ridiculous. Let me get it!"

"No! You're worse than Ivy!"

"Your old trainer couldn't have cared less about what was on your face." Ili pointed out, shaking her head. "I'm still amazed she let you graduate."

"It's funny you mention that." Lyme commented once she was far enough away. "The Skulls are a good deal like the Sisters. We take in a few initiates at a time, and we're encouraged to kill each other off."

"Standard."

"Indeed. Though we don't kill each other off until the very end. We have a death match that we prepare ourselves for over some years." Lyme informed her sister, wiping her mouth of the last of the blue substance.

"Still looks like you've been in a smurf gangbang."

"Shut up! Anyway, the night before the deathmatch, I got really stoned." Lyme blinked at the memory. "And I mean seriously stoned. Like, I started doing weed in a bar in Skullport, and woke up naked in a mushroom garden with two chickens and a goat circling me."

"Please tell me you didn't do anything illicit with any of those creatures."

"Of course not." Lyme rolled her eyes. "I don't know how to carve up a goat. Which is too bad, because I learned some great curry recipes when I was in Calimshan before the whole assassin bit. Anyway, I decided that one of my classmates probably knew how to carve it up, so I picked up the goat, and headed for the site of the deathmatch."

"Still stoned, I take it?"

"Trippin' balls." Lyme answered earnestly. "Every man, woman, and child had Elminster's face."

"Sounds interesting."

"It got boring after awhile. But anyway, by the time I made it to the killing grounds, everyone was dead except for one girl. Top of our class, anal-retentive, vindictive, seriously needed a hobby outside of school…sounds a bit like you, actually, Ili..."

"Get to the point, Lymeeari."

"Anway, I walked right past all the swinging blades and jets of fire, goat in hands. The little bastard kept struggling to get out of my arms. So, I'm trying to hold onto the goat, and I walk into the final room, where the spike pit is being held. And before I can even ask my classmate how to carve up the goat, she raises her knives. Now, I'm still out of my mind wasted, so I chucked the goat right at her. She reached out to catch it, and fell right into the pit below, impaled on the spike. Goat was fine though."

"So…you never technically killed her."

Lyme shrugged. "The trainers had graduate either me or the goat. They picked me. Didn't that sort of thing happen with the Red Sisters? Is that how Nathyrra graduated?"

"Why are you here?"

"You mean like right now, or in the deeper, philosophical, plane-walking sense? Because I was in hell for awhile, as Mom did turn out to be one of the false, and Lolth was none too happy about--"

"You. Right now. Why are you here?"

"Oh! Eva and Moriah are on a mission, and I don't have anything to do until Tiger summons me. So, I thought I'd pay my dear older sister a visit." Lyme responded with a grin that was now sparkling white. "So, let's catch up. I had cereal for breakfast this morning. What did you have?"

Ili stared at her youngest sister for a long moment. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? This inanity? Just to annoy me…"

"Am I?" Lyme shrugged, looking over to the window where she'd discarded her lollipop.. "The world may never know."

"Just…just leave." Ili groaned, pressing the tips of her fingers to her now throbbing forehead. "I can't deal with you right now."

---***---

The next day, Ili was in better spirits, and better prepared to handle Lyme.

"I hear that Tiger's hoping to meet with the other pirate captain soon. When it happens, I want you to take this, just in case." Ili informed her sister, pulling a rod of resurrection out of her pack. "I've only used it a few times. There should be enough charges left."

"Ew!" Lyme jumped back in disgust, eyes locked on the object. "I don't want that! Take your sex toys and play with them on your own time!"

Ili rolled her eyes. "You know what this is, yes?"

"Of course I know, you pervert! What kind of sick freak hands a used one of those to their sister and then tells them to have at it? Is that what they taught you in the Red Sisters? You're sick."

"It's a rod of resurrection, Lyme."

"Oh. I knew that." The younger drow straightened up with dignity, before casting the rod a suspicious glare. "You sure that's its only use?"

"As much as I'm tempted to suggest that you explore some new uses for it by yourself, it only has one." Ili quirked her brows, and smirked. "Though I suppose I could be lying to you, and you'd never know."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Yes, that is the question on hand, isn't it?" Ili grinned wickedly. "If you don't take it, you risk death."

Lyme stared at the object for a long time, before shuddering, and depositing it in her pack. "I really hope you're screwing with me."

"I wouldn't do that. That's what the rod's for."

"Ewwww." The junior assassin made a face, and quickly pocketed the device, before looking to Ili. "So do you have any thoughts on how to meet up with the captain? I mean, we can't just go knock on her door. Believe me, I suggested it many times."

"She has many women aboard her ship." Ili shrugged. "It wouldn't be hard to become one of them, I imagine."

"Huh." Lyme looked very suspicious, and Ili was loathe to ask what was going on in her convoluted head. "Any other thoughts?"

"She has a second." Ili shrugged once more. "Perhaps she could be sweet talked into it."

"A second? Drow? Wears a mask?" Lyme grinned at the thought. "I've seen her. I'd totally go for that. Flash a little leg, a little smile…you think she likes dancing? We could go dancing…"

"And how do you plan to pitch this to her?"

"I walk right up to her and say, 'There's a party in my pants and you have VIP access'." Seeing Ili's face, Lyme chuckled. "Oh, come on, Ili, I wouldn't seriously do that. If anything, I'd tell her that I've been told I'm fairly cute and entertaining, so she should spend a little time with me, if she wants. And I can pick things up with my toes. I know it sounds silly, but its actually very useful…"

Ili rolled her eyes once more. "Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?"

"Not sure. Honestly, I usually just sort of whing these things, and they go well despite everything." Lyme tapped her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "Any more thoughts? I mean, what if the meeting goes badly? What then?"

"Then you bury the other captain six feet under and tell the authorities that you're planting a bitch-garden." Ili's violet eyes flashed. "And eliminate the rest of the opposition to Tiger's rule."

Lyme couldn't help a chuckle. "Standard drow rules? I can live with that."

---***---

"So. This Tina lady. How do you suppose she ended up with a harem full of so many women?" Lyme found herself asking not long after her last visit with her sister.

"Harem?" Ili repeated incredulously, as she and her sister walked along the dockside, their footsteps making no sound. "You think that's what it is?"

"I'm just saying. If there was a ship full of all women in the Underdark, people would get the same idea."

"You were in an all-female organization yourself." Ili pointed out, gesturing to the tattoo of a Blue Skull on Lyme's bicep, a prominent organization of assassins, based out of Ust Natha, and primarily exported to Skullport. At least, it had been, until the decimation of all its members, save one.

"And what do you think we did between missions?" Lyme retorted with a smirk.

"That would certainly prove quite a few theories I've had about how Ivy managed to train you." Ili noted in a dry tone, which Lyme was quick to ignore.

"I'm telling you, something is going on in The Star of the Northern Sea. All those women, trapped together at sea for months at a time, snuggled up in the same quarters, mixing up each other's underwear and pretending its an honest mistake, breathing the same air…"

Ili rolled her eyes at Lyme's remarks. "You know, brothels are full of women and have close living arrangements as well. Do you suppose that they're all molesting each other?"

"It's a brothel. They have to keep their skills sharp in the meantime." Lyme reasoned.

"I don't think that's how it works. Especially not on the surface."

"You say that now, but wait until we're stuck there a few days." Lyme suddenly paled. "You think they have communal showers? You think it's like prison rules? Do I need to make sure I never drop the soap?"

"Probably." The older assassin replied with a straight face. "In fact, I'd take a knife with me everytime I shower. Or just stop showering completely. That seems reasonable."

"Right. Good idea." Lyme tapped her angular chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I think I'm safe from Tina. She doesn't seem like the type to fondle the merchandise. Except for maybe K'arla. You think so?"

"Not sure." Ili had to hide her smirk. "You should probably ask K'arla about it back on the ship."

"Good idea. I should scope out the hierarchy." Lyme shook her head. "I'm telling you, Ili, there's just no other reason to keep so many women in close quarters unless you're forming a harem."

"You might just become part of that harem." Ili informed her little sister, face still perfectly straight, despite her rising desire to burst into laughter.

"Fat chance." Lyme snorted. "I've lived in Calimport, I know how this shit works. No way in hell I'm letting that pirate captain touch me."

"Well, you should make it very clear that you're not interested when she makes advances. In fact, you should verbalize your lack of interest in a very pointed manner."

"Yeah. Good idea. No way I'm joining her harem." Frustrated, Lyme kicked a rock into the ocean nearby. "You know what sucks, Ili? The moment I say I like both men and women, people automatically just assume that means I'm open for business. I do have standards, you know. They're very low, but they do exist! For instance, Tina is cute, but she's a Harper. I don't date Harpers. I mean, after all the trouble Gabe and Tala had with Galvalrey…it'd just be weird."

Cocking her head at her sister, Lyme queried, "Say…aren't you worried about being on the ship?"

"Not particularly. I'm too old and dried up to be of any use to Tina." Ili smirked. "You're still young and fresh though, so make sure you don't drop the soap."

Lyme went white as a sheet at the thought, but she did not remain silent for long. "You're not actually dried up, are you? South of the border, I mean."

"What? No, of course not!"

"Because I hear they make some really good creams for that…"

"I don't need them!"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Ili. Fresh water still flows from rusty pipes, after all…"

"Lyme, shut up, or I swear I'll push you off the docks."

"Alright, alright." Lyme scowled, muttering under her breath. "No way I'm touching her red panther…well, unless I get to be on top. Knowing her, she'd say a few sweet words, and it'd be all silk sheets and roses for a bit, and then tattered lingerie and broken hearts. Dastardly pirate. She'd sweep me right off my feet, too. She'd collect me just like she did that lady paladin and the blonde ranger! Well forget it! The Skulls did the same thing to me for too many years! I'm done with it! …Unless I get to be on top…I mean…Tina is pretty cute."

"It's good to know you have your priorities laid out." Ili replied in a dry tone. "In any case, you don't even know if Tina would take an interest in you. K'arla, on the other hand…"

"You think so?" Lyme's wintergreen eyes brightened at the thought of the other drow shadow dancer. "I wish. I'd drop my panties quicker than the amount of time it takes that barbarian to piss off the ranger. I could be on top, bottom, sideways, dismounted from a ceiling lamp…"

Ili could feel a headache forming, a typical symptom of long periods sent with Lyme. "Well, make sure you pitch this to her the next time we step aboard."

"Maybe. But Tina might want to join in, and that would totally mess with my swag." Lyme sighed. "Though K'arla might want her to. I guess we can compromise. But if we're going to make this relationship work, we're going to have to discuss just how involved Tina will be, because there are limits to how much I'm willing to share. I mean, what if she steals K'arla away from me completely? That's not cool."

"I think K'arla needs to know that you actually exist before you can start planning these things." Ili shrugged. "That seems standard."

"I guess." Lyme sighed. "Relationships are so hard."

"You're not even in one."

"Exactly." The younger assassin sighed. "Women."

In that moment, Ili decided that if her little sister actually brought up any of this inanity with the poor captain, she would be sure to lie to everyone aboard the Star of the Northern Sea and say that Lymeeari was cursed with madness. Or perhaps Tourettes Syndrome.

---***---

"So what does Tiger plan to do with Baram and Kurth?"

"Well, it's like I told Gabe when we went up against Irenius: 'You have to either kill him…or sleep with him'." Lyme shook her head. "I told Tiger it has to be one or the other."

"Gabriel was your husband, yes?"

Lyme stopped in her tracks, and cast Ili a suspicious look. "We invited you to the wedding. Not that you bothered to show up. Ass."

"I was dead!"

"So was I, for a time, and here I am now." Lyme blew a raspberry. "Lame excuse."

"Ivy took him from you." Ili pointed out, getting to her point with all the bluntness of a hammer. "She took him from you as easily as she took my eye all those years ago. Why isn't she dead?"

"Who else would--"

"Stop." Ili held up her hand. "No jokes, Lyme. I want the truth from you. Right now."

Lyme was serious then, though it did not suit her, and she couldn't help a sigh. "You don't get it, Ili. I don't want her dead."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't do anything. It won't bring Gabe back, it won't make me happy. Did killing Korve all those years ago bring you any satisfaction? Really?"

Ili was silent at the question, and Lyme nodded. "As I thought. Look, I was angry when Gabe first passed. That was two years ago, and I wanted to torch Ivy's cabin and the whole of the Hosttower for the part they played in it…but it won't do anything."

She chuckled as she remembered something. "Tiger put it well once, you know. He might have been drunk, or just pretending, like he does. People tend not to pay attention to guys who claim to predict the future if they seem drunk all the time, you know. It's a good strategy."

"I see. And just what did he tell you?"

The assassin cleared her throat, taking on an imitation of Tiger's rough, uneducated accent, "Aye, lass, ye need ter understand that everyone in this 'ere world is born in a puddle of sand. We take grains from the sand, and make ourselves a glass box ter live in, protect us from the storms an' such. But that box gets tears an' cracks, and sometimes, even shatters all about. So, we need to make ourselves a new box, and we use new pieces fer it. We cannae gather every piece and expect it ter fit back together perfect-like, fer some things be too small ter fit back together. So, we patch it back with new things. Ye cannae spend yer life searchin' fer pieces, but ye can build yerself a new box to live in. And perhaps, sometimes, yeh can step on a little piece o' the old glass. May cut yeh, may hit a callus, but no reason ter include it or not. It's yer choice, yer box."

Lyme smiled wryly. "My life shattered with Gabe's passing. Whose wouldn't, after the loss of a spouse? Especially after a murder like his. I could dwell with it, and swear vengeance, and whatever other angsty, angry thing pops into mind. Or, I could mourn him, and move on, and honor his memory by helping Tiger in his quest to bring some sort of stability to Luskan. I can help him with that, and know that Gabe would be proud of me. What he wouldn't want is for me to cause suffering unto others in his name. He'd hate that. And more importantly, I'd hate that. I want to live my life, Ili. I don't want to spend it mourning forever, because I'll see him again one day. And until then, I don't need to spend every waking minute missing him. That's not a life."

The assassin swallowed, looking down at her dark palms, and seeing the puncture scars that marked her flesh. "I mean, what if we'd had a child, Ili? We grew up with a mother that was always so angry, so bitter at the world for the cards it handed her. I wouldn't do the same to my daughter. I just wouldn't."

Ili quirked her head at Lyme's slip of the tongue. "What would you have named this daughter?"

"Envy." Lyme's smile became wistful, and her fingers gently brushed over her leather-clad stomach. "We would have named her, 'Envy'."

---

"So, I get that Ili is bored, and has nothing better to do with herself, but why are you here, Sol?" Lyme found herself asking as she walked with her sister, every one of her strides matching two of the tall warrior's. "I mean, don't you need to look after Kylee?"

"Daeghun is just as capable as I am." Sol pointed out, eyes forward as she walked, and hands never too far from her sword belt.

"Yeah, but she's not exactly close to him. She's imprinted on you." Lyme cocked her head at Sol. "She's the reason you're here, isn't she? Is she getting ready to leave the nest?"

Surprised that her normally asinine sister was so perceptive, Sol turned to look at her. "She is only sixteen."

"And knowing her, she heard about Aribeth's call to the academy, and immediately wanted to join." Lyme pointed out. "It's the first clue that she's adopted, you know. No heroes in the Barrindars."

"She is too young." Sol stated simply. "She will be ready to leave soon, and make her own path. Until then, she is studying at a temple of Sune not too far from here. That is a suitable environment for her to study. Neverwinter was not."

"And now its plague-damaged, and on the brink of war." Lyme commented.

"Neverwinter is unsuitable to fight, given that most of its forces have been decimated by sickness, and its top general is missing. They will be hungry for clerics to join their ranks, and keep what soldiers they do have alive, and on the front lines." The warrior replied in her usual calm, dry tone. "I suspect that Kylee harbors some notion that she will grow up to become the next Arwen Moondream. Such ideals are natural for one so young, but I will do what I can if it means that she will not see war before the age of twenty."

Coming from Sol, that may as well have been an admission of unconditional love. Lyme couldn't help a smile at her ever cool, ever rational, eldest sister. "You know, I think I can fight for that too. And I think I can help you out along the way."

"Good." Sol cast her gaze towards the ship in the distance. "The Belladonna, yes? Tiger's flagship?"

"That's it." Lyme smiled as they neared the boat. "Why? Are you worried about getting seasick again? Look, if you want to stay locked up in your room all day, I won't tell anyone. Though you really should stay on deck, even if it means throwing up over the side, in front of everyone. Because otherwise--"

"It is not fortified." Sol remarked in a grave voice. "A single large hole would be enough to destroy your forces, and your plans."

"It's been magicked, don't worry." Lyme assured her. "The Hosttower mages think its just another merchant vessel trapped during the war."

"I see. And how do you prevent raids?"

"Oh, the pirates wouldn't dare." Lyme chuckled, thinking of what a superstitious lot they were. Even Tiger, with all his sage wisdom, was known to walk a full block in the opposite direction just to ensure that a black cat did not cross his path. "We have a priestess of Umberlee aboard."

"Rel is here as well?"

Lyme nodded. "Apparently, the other captains haven't been paying enough tribute to Umberlee. So, she's here to exact a little revenge on Kurth and Baram for neglecting their duties."

"And I suppose Tiger has had the foresight to continue tributes to the Bitch Queen, otherwise Rel would not be staying aboard his ship." Sol concluded, nodding. "Presently, it is a good time, but I hope you are thinking of something more long-term."

"Well, now that you're here, I imagine we'll have some new ideas on gathering allies and ending the civil war to put on the table." Lyme chuckled.

Sol did not crack a smile, but something familiar flashed in her eyes. "I can certainly work something out, if Tiger requires tactical thought, in addition to extra muscle."

Lyme smirked as they headed toward the dock. "And he'll be delighted when he learns that you carry both in spades."

Sol nodded, and cut straight to business, asking Lyme, "Do we have any potential allies?"

"It's tricky." Lyme sighed, and began telling her eldest sister all she knew of Captain Tina Grant, and her forces, knowing that Solafae would quickly create a strategy, or at least the beginnings of one.

"…And as far as we know, Aribeth de'Tylmarande has been there for some days. Moondream too. I watched them in the streets some time ago, Sol. The lady paladin collapsed, and clutched her head. It was almost like a--"

"—Psionic attack." Sol finished immediately, nodding. "Then we have a bartering tool."

"How so?"

"A creature that can wear down the mind of an elven paladin of Aribeth's standing is powerful." Sol tapped the gold circlet upon her forehead. "You know what that is?"

"Honestly, I always thought you just wore it to make yourself look a little less scary. It didn't work, Sol."

The warrior couldn't help a roll of her eyes. "Items that block powerful psionic attacks are difficult to come by. After growing up subject to our mother's attacks, I thought it wise to wear something that can block even the worst of psionics, and I had this item crafted by mind flayers in Zorvak'Mur. Needless to say, it is powerful enough to withstand many powerful mental attacks, and has successfully guarded me against them in the past."

"And you're willing to give it up?" Lyme quirked a brow. "I don't think the paladin can spend the rest of her days with a circlet on her head. It'd be difficult to sleep, to say the least."

"It would be a temporary solution, until her mental shield can be restored fully. Rel can help with that, as can Val, if it becomes necessary to call upon an actual psionicist." Sol responded calmly. "Therefore, it is an excellent bartering tool for an alliance."

"Yeah, but what will stop whatever's going after the paladin from attacking you?"

"That is irrelevant. I am not an iconic figure of Neverwinter, and my mind is in much better shape, and better prepared to fend off a psionic attack." Sol replied, her crimson gaze falling upon the dagger at Lyme's waist. "I am expendable, Lyme. Aribeth de'Tylmarande is not. I trust you will do what is necessary if anything happens."

Lyme frowned, always a little off-put by her sister's fatalism. "If I can't, Ili certainly will."

"Ili is here? Good." Sol looked toward the Hosttower in the distance. "The abilities of a warlock will come in handy later. Until then, let us find this pirate captain of yours. Tiger and I have much to discuss."

Description
The city of Luskan was a cesspool. Garbage stewed about the gutters and the streets, as smoke rose from piles of corpses as easily as chimneys, the air stale with death. Still, some called the place home. One man in particular had set sail many a time, but had always returned to his place. When he had been a boy, he had dressed in rags and prowled the streets. As a man, he wore dusty boots and breeches, accompanied by a faded white tunic, and a long red coat. The blade of a saber twinkled in the sparse torchlight, catching light from the buckles on his belt and the gold rings in his ears. Tied around his forehead was a scarlet bandana, and beneath them sat a pair of multi-colored eyes, one black as coal, the other the same bright orange of a tangerine.

"Is your name really 'Tiger Eyes'?" A young girl had asked him the other day as he visited the tavern, clutching her stuffed bear to her chest as she and the other refugee children listened to him tell tales of the sea.

"Aye, that be it." The smile on the pirate's scruffy face had been nothing short of wry. "Me mum didn' live long enough past me birth to give me a name, proper-like. The harlots and thieves I kept with and named me fine enough, on account o' me face."

The scholars and wizards lurking about the Hosttower would call him uneducated. But he had a store of knowledge rattling about in his skull. He knew to skulk about and keep hidden when all seemed idle, for strange things lurked in the shadows of this world, and it was better to join them then to be prey to the creatures that walked about open-like. He knew to scurry away from whatever cramped corner he claimed for a home when the rats began to die, for disease would soon come for the larger residents. He knew how the shine of a dagger and a few savvy words could be enough to escape a round or two of fists. He knew that the glint of gold was tempting, but never worth it without a proper plan or thought of how to get it. He knew that men with lights dancing about their fingers were not to be trifled with, and anyone showing about a holy symbol, a book of witchcraft, or even a silver pin, could not always be trusted to look after others. He knew his people were those that lurked everywhere, yet were never truly seen. The whores, the thieves, the beggars, the laborers, the mothers of children with tattered clothes and grimy fingers…no one cared for them, but they were his people. And he knew that they wished only one thing: To be left alone in peace, to live their lives, without the interference of higher powers. Lawless men had no need and no use for order, and would do better to be left to their own matters. Yet, those in powers either cared nothing for his people, or cared too much, and whispered sainted words that brought agony upon his people's heads. He would not allow that.

He knew of Kurth. A quick flash of his orange eye, and he saw countless battles, the man in the middle of them cutting down soldiers like rows of wheat, a frenzied smile decorating his bloodstained face during the carnage. Such a man would leave rivers of blood in the street. And his rival, a man with a gaunt, sallow face, gnarled teeth poking past his thin, chapped lips, and nails curled and long enough to pass for claws, was no better. He saw the man as a boy, skinny and underfed, living in the sewers and feasting off the same things the rats saw as treasures. He saw him cowering away from any real threat, but taking no issue in stealing a noble lady's lapdog, or a young lass's kitten, and soon enough, a mewling babe right out the arms of his mother, as a meal. This was a man with a pox batting about his skull, and a plague all his own upon Tiger's people. Neither of these men would make for suitable rulers.

Still, mad as those two captains were, it was the man with the sparkling fingers, locked away in his ivory tower, that would make a mess of things. Kurth's own carnage would pale in comparison to the ocean of blood Maugrim promised, and it would not just be the children snatched away from sight as Baram had planned…it would be the young and able, forced into armies to fight under a banner they cared nothing for. The old and the crippled would be fodder for sacrifice to a strange god. Even the dead would not rest. The dead would be taken from their rest, their weary bones made to stand and run, to throw fists and kicks as readily as any flesh-and-blood, breathing soldier. No, Tiger could not allow such a thing in his city. As poor a life was promised to his folk…they would fare much worse under any of these men.

A tinge of a smile quirked the corners of his lips. Perhaps it was time to pass a proper leadership unto a woman, silver pin or not.

Still, the question lingered about his mind: Would she be a good lass and watch over his fair city, or just another tyrant with a rapier and a captain's hat?

But, that was information that would come to him soon enough. In the meantime, A tune settled into the frame of Tiger's mind as he crossed his boots across the cobblestones, and he found himself putting it into words.

"Come me old one, come me fair one, come now unto me. Could you fancy a poor sailor lad who has just come from sea?"

"You are ragged, love, and you're dirty, love, and your clothes smell much of tar."

Tiger turned to see a familiar woman crossing out of the shadows, white hair swept over her head so as to allow only one wintergreen eye to peek out from her bangs, carrying a smile in their depths as sure as the one that set upon her dark lips.

"So be gone you, saucy sailor lad, so be gone you, jack tar." The woman finished, offering a hand to the pirate.

The pirate was quick to let a grin dash across his face, as he took her hand. "If I am ragged, love, and I am dirty, love, and me clothes much of tar, I have silver in me pocket, love, and gold in great store."

The woman returned that same grin, and continued, "And then when she heard him say so,
on her bended knee she fell, I will marry my dear Henry, for I love a sailor lad so well."

The pair began to dance, a silly thing to do out in the streets, to be sure, but Tiger cared little for the burning corpses about them. The two of them saw enough of death in their days that it deserved a song and a dance some times.

"Do you think that I am foolish love? Do you think that I am mad? For to wed with a poor country girl where no fortune's to be had?" He continued, giving her a twirl, and smiling at the delight streaming over her face. As much as she waded through death, he knew that dance was her passion. Best to give her a little something of it, given how much she'd doubtlessly been through in the past weeks.

Coarse, half-gloved fingers curled over her back, and drew her close, as they stepped together. "I will cross the briny ocean, I will whistle and sing. And since you've refused the offer love
some other girl shall wear the ring."

Easily following his lead, the woman finished, "I am frolicsome and I am easy, good tempered and free. And I don't give a single pin me boys what the world thinks of me."

The woman leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was a friendly thing, as their flirting was, but it would never progress past that. Time and circumstance had left a ghost floating in their hearts, a ghost that shared the name of her husband, and his best friend. Tiger, like any other sailor, was superstitious, and knew better than to taunt this ghost with the courtship of his wife. Plus…the thought of it replaced that shadow in his heart with an ache. If he and Lyme ever saw fit to court each other…there would be nothing between them but the shadow of a man they'd both cared for.

"Ye're a sight for sore eyes, lass." Tiger greeted, smiling as the petite woman pushed back her hood, showing off to the world the extent of dark elven heritage. "How'd yeh like Neverwinter, Lyme?"

"Eh. Hopeless, doomsayers on every corner where stacks of bodies aren't already taking residence, stray dogs laying down and dying in the streets, old men cowering behind stone walls while pretty elves run about, trying to save the place, no one pays income taxes anymore…Not to mention the children are filthy." Lyme shrugged. "All in all, not so different from here."

Tiger chuckled at the drow's description. "Did yeh get a good look at the ringleaders?"

"Yep. There's a helmite, an elven cleric, an elven paladin, old Nasher, and a blonde." Lyme informed him, before frowning. "And you know what else? There was another drow spying on everyone! She stole all my good hiding spots too! Didn't even ask if she could use them! The nerve! Is there no etiquette left in espionage these days? I mean, we could have met up, coordinated, taken shifts, compared notes…"

"And what notes migh' those be, lass?"

"Well, the plague is cured, that's the good part. But not without hassle." Lyme sighed. "The helmite was responsible, but the elven cleric supported him, and totally ran off and inadvertently made himself look like a traitorous asshole on the way out. So, the mob strung him up from a tree. Totally fucked the elven paladin right in the head, too. I mean, you should have seen the look on her face when he was hanging there. I…well…it wasn't pleasant."

One of the visions that had brought tears to Tiger's multi-colored eyes even after he was well and grown had been the sight of Lyme and her husband, and the last time they would be together. He'd seen his best friend and his wife torn right out of their home and brought to Luskan. Gabriel…his punishment had been quick, but brutal. A sentencing to the Prisoner's Carnival was a sick master, and Tiger's orange eyes had shown him Lyme screaming as Gabe's guts were torn clear from his mouth. But, the lass only caught a quick eyeful, before she herself was nailed to a plank of wood, and left to rot outside of Luskan, parched and bleeding in the hot sun, as the crows began to circle. And he was nowhere to be found, too far out in the sea of stars to get there in time to spirit them away. But Lyme…she was a lucky lass, and savvy as well. A good partnership, and one that had allowed her to break free from her prison, and press forward, stumbling through the streets of Luskan until she reached the Belladonna, collapsing on the pier, as he and his crew rushed to gather her up.

Still, that had been many years past, and Lyme was quick to pick herself up. She had her time of weeping, and she let go of it, remembering Gabe as she loved him, not as she'd lost him. And when she mourned him, she honored his loss through action, not words of despair.

And this showed, as Lyme was quick to breach a different subject. "Still, I get that she's all rattled and everything right now, but I think she could have done better. I mean the guy she was with, Fenthick…I'm gonna be honest, I totally thought he was slipping it to the helmite on the side. I mean, the paladin would fawn all over him if anyone ever asked about him, but if anyone asked about her, he'd just be like, 'Oh yeah, she's cool. Did you hear about Desther's blessings'? I totally thought that they were together, at least until I saw him cheat on the paladin with some brothel mistress. In fact, I saw the whole thing. Paladin wasn't missing out on much, truth be told. Her friend though, the blonde, was good about it. I mean, she was supportive and such, but she spoke her mind as well, and say things like, 'Oh my Eilistraee, dude, I totally get that you love Fenthick, but he's a trifling ho, and I know your mama taught you not to love these hos, but if you marry him that's your deal. Still though. Gross.' At least I think that's what she said. Don't quote me on that, I didn't have time to get it verbatim before the other drow started heading right for *my* shadow. Thief. And after all the time I spent staking it out, too."

Folding her arms over her small chest, the little drow quirked her head. "So are you ready to tell me what this is all about, Tiger? You know I trust you. I trust your visions, as they're yet to lead us astray. But…it'd be nice to know what your intentions are. Why the sudden interest in your city? Seems like you've been nothing but eager to sail out of Luskan and explore the world in previous years."

"That be true. But tis as I told ye: There be a plague in the south, affectin' the whole of Neverwinter. My eye's been itchin', tellin' me that'll it'll be 'ere soon enough."

"We have clerics. I can call up Rel. If there's a cure, she'll find it." Lyme offered as she walked with him.

"Aye, that be true, but 'tis the sickness in the heart that I worry fer, not the sickness in the breath." Tiger shook his head. "Stormclouds be settlin' over the city. They'll drift toward our own soon enough. I donnae plan ter lose this 'ere city ter a war that can' be won wit' swords."

"And here you are again, calling it 'your city', and claiming some sort of ownership." A smile quirked the corner of her lips. "So. Come on. What's the plan?"

"Sufferin' be painted in every corner o' this place." Tiger remarked quietly. "I saw it as a lad, I see it now as a grown man. The mages, sittin' in their gilded tower…they donnae bring life in ter the 'eart of the city. It be time fer new leadership. No more Prisoner's Carnivals for those that be thinkin' different like."

"Right." Lyme nodded with a scowl.

But it would not last for long, as such seriousness did not suit her.

"So. There's bound to be a lot of gold stored up in Kurth and Baram's lairs." Lyme smirked. "What do you suppose you're going to do with it? And all the gold you plan to accumulate once you rule this place?"

"Rum. Wenches. Me usual bit." Tiger replied, chuckling as Lyme swatted his shoulder.

"Don't give me that! Tiger, I know you better at this point."

"Aye, that ye do, lass." Tiger smiled softly, looking around the streets of Luskan. While his obsidian eye saw piles of corpses, garbage staining the sidewalks, and blood the cobblestones, his orange one saw small, clean buildings, with children about, parchment and quill clasped in their little fingers, rather than someone's purse strings, or a makeshift knife.

"Schools, lass." He murmured softly. "This place needs a mighty high number of places to serve the public. Only way now to get a bit o' schoolin' is ter 'ave gold or magic between yer fingers, and the wee ones with neither…well, I'm sure yeh noticed that I don' speak like a noble lad. Give the wee ones a bit o' schoolin'…and watch the world around yeh turn to gold."

Lyme smiled softly at the notion. "I think Gabe would have liked that idea too."

"Aye, lass, I'm sure he would. He'd be volunteerin' ter teach every class…and the wee ones o' Luskan would run him good n' ragged."

"Ha! He'd make it through though. He was tough like that." Lyme chuckled, and her smile softened once more at the thought of her fallen husband. "It would be the sort of thing that he could pour his heart into. He'd love it. Even if one of the kids did set his scrolls on the tenants of Ilmater on fire."

"Aye. And I cannae help wonderin' where they'd get such a bold thought."

"Well…that depends entirely on how long-winded Gabe's preaching about his crush on Ilmater got."

"You would have a bit o' tinder and flint ready after the first sentence."

"Would not! I'd let him crush on Ilmater for a good hour or two before I resorted to arson." Lyme laughed, her wintergreen eyes sparkling at the good memories. "He used to get so huffy whenever I accused him of having a crush on his god."

"T'was true enough, though he'd be loathe to admit it." Tiger grinned. "But I think yeh shared his heart sure enough."

"I know I did." Lyme's smile saddened for a bit, but she shook off the threat of bad memories, as she always did, and cast another grin at Tiger. "So schools. What comes next?"

"What comes first, yeh mean. The city ain't me own just yet, Missus Kiwi." Tiger tapped his chin. "In fact, I'm thinkin' it may be best to 'and it over to a more suitable candidate than meself."

"You had a vision?" Lyme queried. "I hope you're not talking about Kurth or Baram."

"Nay, neither of 'em. Tis a lady I be thinkin' of. A proper captain too, at that."

"You mean the one that's been squatting here for the last few months? The elf?" Lyme quirked a brow. "Good luck getting an audience. I hear she doesn't care much for men."

"Aye, but I have me methods of speakin' ter 'er." Tiger grinned at Lyme. "I be plannin' ter tell 'er that durin' one of me sails, me crewmates and meself crashed upon a pasha's land in Calimshan. Durin' that time, the pasha took a knife ter me belt and sliced me good and proper, so as ter look over 'is harem lasses. Even if I wished ter frighten 'er, I 'aven't the proper tools to do so. Should calm 'er a bit ter think that."

Lyme smirked, then burst into laughter. "A eunuch? Really? That's what you're going to tell her? Tiger, there's a fair amount of tavern wenches at the Cutlass that would argue differently."

"Paid the lot of 'em fer their silence." Tiger explained with a shrug. "Man has ter keep 'is reputation."

"I see. And if she finds out you're not a eunuch?"

"Well, if she ever finds 'erself gettin' an eyeful o' truth, I pray it'll be durin' a time when she'll be feelin' more grateful than angry."

"Otherwise, you may actually become a eunuch." Lyme smirked again. "I'd like to see how this all plays out."

As they walked, Tiger felt a strange itching sensation in his left eye, reaching up to rub the orange globe. But the itch did not recede.

In fact, even as he turned to reach for his saber, Lyme let out a screech of pain. She was an assassin trained, but she was not talented at the vocation, as a result, she was surprised when a group of Baram's men lurched forward from the shadows, her own domain, and blasted a spell of light right into her eyes, blinding her and causing her to stumble, even as Tiger ran his blade through the guts of a nearby cleric, severing his intestines as he worked to speak an incantation. The bottle of holy water he'd been holding fell to the ground, and a warrior companion of his with it.

While Tiger faced off against the enemies, Lyme reached for her knives, and lurched forward, cursing as she missed the nearby rogue. Before he could plant a knife in her back, she kicked backward, sending him into one of the empty crates that seemed to litter the whole of Luskan. She'd really need to look into that when she had time. Thankfully, he was slow to get to his feet, and Lyme was able to slash downward, cutting his throat in a quick gesture.

Even if she had no passion for it, she could certainly be a killer when needed.

Still, she was not good enough to turn and save Tiger as a rogue flitted through the shadows, plunging his shurikens into the two, as a mage chanted spells. A barrier of blades appeared, and ripped right through Tiger's skin, sending him to the ground in a puddle of red, rushing blood, while fire lanced up the length of Lyme's leg.

The assassin knew when she was cornered. She knew death, she knew when it was knocking at her door. After these two years, she would have welcomed its embrace with open arms, for she knew it was only another path, not an ending. But this time was different. She would not allow it to claim Tiger as well.

Dark, trembling fingers clasped over the pack of the fallen cleric, searching the contents and quickly drawing a vial of clear liquid, a silver smoke drifting hazily outside as soon as she uncorked the bottle. She was not powerful. Being the youngest of her siblings, she had grown up knowing this. She was not strong like Sol, nor cunning like Val, nor as good a healer as Rel, nor did she have Jhael, Adin, and Ili's capacity for magic, nor Shar's gift for words, nor Bel's capacity to stay out of trouble. She was not level headed like Jys, nor gifted with a manic ability to carve up bodies, as Gin was. Even her abilities as a shadow dancer, and an assassin, and a cleric, were mediocre at best.

But she did have her luck. And she had one last trick up her sleeve.

So, she lifted up the bottle, and poured the substance onto her open palm. The blessed water threatened to burn a hole clean through her skin, but she could feel it working as she let out a howl of utter rage, her wintergreen eyes blazing a fierce red, as claws shot forth from her hands, and fangs lengthened her teeth.

There was nothing of her carefree spirit in this moment. There was no rage, for she was not some crazed beast. Instead, there was a calculating smile, and speed, and tactics. She knew exactly what to do, when to dodge as the mage flung a round of spellfire in her direction. How to lunge forward, and sink her claws deep into his neck, long before he could even have a chance to grow gangs and talons of his own. It was not some enraged slash across his throat. It was surgical, precise, intended to induce as much pain as possible in a split second, before his arteries burst, and he collapsed, dead.

The diabolic part of her was unamused by the spray of blood that covered her face after the fatal blow was delivered. It was too messy, too riddled with error. She would not accept that next time. Next time, she would take care of the worthless ones, then spirit their leader to some dark place, torturing him until he was broken in mind and spirit, left nothing but a husk to serve her pleasure—

Wait. Wait, this wasn't what she wanted. Tiger was still there, and he was growing pale. He would die soon.

So? That was the response of the diabolical part of her. Forget his plans. She could have all of Luskan if she wished. To the pits of hell with Tiger! He did not deserve this city. She deserved it. She deserved pirate captains serving at her feet, and the heads of every host tower mage on a pike. Oh, it would take time, but she could create a plan, make every fool in this city cut the throats of their friends and family if she so wished. She would start first, in fact. It would be so easy to retrieve Tiger's fallen saber, and plant it firmly in his own chest. Better yet, she could use his corpse to her advantage. Make it look as though he had been a soldier of Kurth's, cut down by Baram. Yes, with some precise planning, that could be enough to draw them into open conflict, instead of these ridiculous skirmishes they held in the street. Yes, she could--

"Lass." Tiger's voice emerged as a croak, as he clutched his side in a weak gesture, doing all he could not to slip into unconsciousness. "Let it go."

Let it go. Yes. The schemes began to fade then, turning hazy as Lyme's claws receded, and her eyes drew back to their normal green. She did not have power, that much was true. But she had luck, and something even better. She had the ability to let go, and carry on with her life. And that was a blessing that had saved her soul a hundred times over.

And so, she let go of the past once more, and found herself focusing on the present, kneeling down despite a weariness that sank deep into her bones, and pressing glowing green fingers to Tiger's side.

"It won't stop the bleeding, but it will slow it." The assassin assured the pirate, slinging an arm around his waist, and using what remained of her might to pull them both to their shaking feet. "And I'd be really bummed out if you dropped dead on the street, so let's get you someplace safe."

"Yer sainted, lass." Tiger chuckled, despite the searing pain in his gut. "Temple o' Tyr is nearby, though they may not take too kindly ter the sight o' a drow lass."

"Not a bad idea. I suppose I can just throw you on the steps, knock on the door, and run off, like some single mother and her unwanted child." Lyme chuckled. "Think it would help if I put you in a wicker basket and left a note?"

"Aye, it might. Though I can make it in ter the temple, and sneak ye a potion if ye can take to the shadows."

"I can manage it. Just need to bandage up a few wounds. I think bleeding all over the floors might give me away." Keeping her arms firmly around Tiger's waist, Lyme stepped forward, only to have a vicious cramp sieze her one leg, and a fresh wound on the other to open further, exposing raw calf muscle. "Holy whistling tits, that hurts!"

"Whose bloody tits do yeh know ter whistle?"

"Dunno. It wouldn't be the weirdest thing that ever walked this plane, though."

"Aye." Tiger looked down, and saw that Lyme's footsteps were now dripping with blood. Thinking it best to keep her distracted from just how serious her wounds were becoming with each step, he asked, "What do yeh suppose is?"

"Cespenar." Lyme's answer was rapid fire and unhesitant.

"Lass, what be a--"

"Don't ask. Mask, just don't." The assassin sighed, then muttered under her breath, "Fucking imp always hitting on my husband…fucking imp and his fucking giant imp boner for Bhaalspawn…"

Tiger thought it best not to inquire as to that train of thought as they headed for the nearby temple.

---***---

The next day, a violet-eyed drow looked up from her guard post, watching as another dark elf materialized out of the shadows, lips puckered around a tiny stick.

With a slight pop, a hard, blueberry sphere of candy was produced, situated on the end of said stick.

"What the hell is that?"

"This? It's a lollipop." Lyme explained reasonably, pointing to the candied object. "Surfacer children go apeshit over these."

"So you're stealing candy from children now?"

"Of course not!" Lyme scoffed. "I traded him for it. One cup of whiskey."

"I'm sure his mother was delighted about that, assuming he has a mother." Ili replied in a dry voice, before catching sight of her sister's blue-stained lips and teeth. "Get rid of it. You look like you've been blowing a smurf."

The younger assassin blinked, and tossed it away, throwing it with enough force that it broke the window of a nearby house.

Thinking quickly, Lyme crouched behind one of the crates scattered about the street, leaving Ili out in the open as a gaunt-faced woman yelled through the hole, "Bloody idiot! You owe me for this window!"

But a quick flash of the wicked looking dagger pressed to Ili's belt was enough to make the woman pale, and scurry back inside her home, not eager to tempt the acerbic woman.

Shaking her head, Ili reached down to yank Lyme out from behind the crates. "I still don't understand how in the hell you managed to become a full fledged assassin. You have all the subtlety of a rampaging bull."

"You know, it's a funny story." Lyme remarked with a still blue grin, standing to her feet.

"If I have to hear it, then fix your face." Ili shook her head, taking out a pack of cigarettes.

Lyme eyed the carton as she took out her canteen. "Those are bad for you, you know."

"Oh really?" Ili quirked a brow, and snapped her fingers, purple light appearing as she lit the end of her cigarette. "What is that you're drinking?"

"Water."

"Fish shit in that."

Lyme immediately gagged as she took a swallow of the cool liquid, leading Ili to smirk as the latter glared. "Would you like to hear my story now?"

"If I must." Ili looked at Lyme, then reached into her pocket, taking out a handkerchief and dabbing at Lyme's face, even as the latter scrambled to get away.

"Stop that!"

"You have just a little something--"

"Leave it!"

"You look ridiculous. Let me get it!"

"No! You're worse than Ivy!"

"Your old trainer couldn't have cared less about what was on your face." Ili pointed out, shaking her head. "I'm still amazed she let you graduate."

"It's funny you mention that." Lyme commented once she was far enough away. "The Skulls are a good deal like the Sisters. We take in a few initiates at a time, and we're encouraged to kill each other off."

"Standard."

"Indeed. Though we don't kill each other off until the very end. We have a death match that we prepare ourselves for over some years." Lyme informed her sister, wiping her mouth of the last of the blue substance.

"Still looks like you've been in a smurf gangbang."

"Shut up! Anyway, the night before the deathmatch, I got really stoned." Lyme blinked at the memory. "And I mean seriously stoned. Like, I started doing weed in a bar in Skullport, and woke up naked in a mushroom garden with two chickens and a goat circling me."

"Please tell me you didn't do anything illicit with any of those creatures."

"Of course not." Lyme rolled her eyes. "I don't know how to carve up a goat. Which is too bad, because I learned some great curry recipes when I was in Calimshan before the whole assassin bit. Anyway, I decided that one of my classmates probably knew how to carve it up, so I picked up the goat, and headed for the site of the deathmatch."

"Still stoned, I take it?"

"Trippin' balls." Lyme answered earnestly. "Every man, woman, and child had Elminster's face."

"Sounds interesting."

"It got boring after awhile. But anyway, by the time I made it to the killing grounds, everyone was dead except for one girl. Top of our class, anal-retentive, vindictive, seriously needed a hobby outside of school…sounds a bit like you, actually, Ili..."

"Get to the point, Lymeeari."

"Anway, I walked right past all the swinging blades and jets of fire, goat in hands. The little bastard kept struggling to get out of my arms. So, I'm trying to hold onto the goat, and I walk into the final room, where the spike pit is being held. And before I can even ask my classmate how to carve up the goat, she raises her knives. Now, I'm still out of my mind wasted, so I chucked the goat right at her. She reached out to catch it, and fell right into the pit below, impaled on the spike. Goat was fine though."

"So…you never technically killed her."

Lyme shrugged. "The trainers had graduate either me or the goat. They picked me. Didn't that sort of thing happen with the Red Sisters? Is that how Nathyrra graduated?"

"Why are you here?"

"You mean like right now, or in the deeper, philosophical, plane-walking sense? Because I was in hell for awhile, as Mom did turn out to be one of the false, and Lolth was none too happy about--"

"You. Right now. Why are you here?"

"Oh! Eva and Moriah are on a mission, and I don't have anything to do until Tiger summons me. So, I thought I'd pay my dear older sister a visit." Lyme responded with a grin that was now sparkling white. "So, let's catch up. I had cereal for breakfast this morning. What did you have?"

Ili stared at her youngest sister for a long moment. "You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? This inanity? Just to annoy me…"

"Am I?" Lyme shrugged, looking over to the window where she'd discarded her lollipop.. "The world may never know."

"Just…just leave." Ili groaned, pressing the tips of her fingers to her now throbbing forehead. "I can't deal with you right now."

---***---

The next day, Ili was in better spirits, and better prepared to handle Lyme.

"I hear that Tiger's hoping to meet with the other pirate captain soon. When it happens, I want you to take this, just in case." Ili informed her sister, pulling a rod of resurrection out of her pack. "I've only used it a few times. There should be enough charges left."

"Ew!" Lyme jumped back in disgust, eyes locked on the object. "I don't want that! Take your sex toys and play with them on your own time!"

Ili rolled her eyes. "You know what this is, yes?"

"Of course I know, you pervert! What kind of sick freak hands a used one of those to their sister and then tells them to have at it? Is that what they taught you in the Red Sisters? You're sick."

"It's a rod of resurrection, Lyme."

"Oh. I knew that." The younger drow straightened up with dignity, before casting the rod a suspicious glare. "You sure that's its only use?"

"As much as I'm tempted to suggest that you explore some new uses for it by yourself, it only has one." Ili quirked her brows, and smirked. "Though I suppose I could be lying to you, and you'd never know."

"Go fuck yourself."

"Yes, that is the question on hand, isn't it?" Ili grinned wickedly. "If you don't take it, you risk death."

Lyme stared at the object for a long time, before shuddering, and depositing it in her pack. "I really hope you're screwing with me."

"I wouldn't do that. That's what the rod's for."

"Ewwww." The junior assassin made a face, and quickly pocketed the device, before looking to Ili. "So do you have any thoughts on how to meet up with the captain? I mean, we can't just go knock on her door. Believe me, I suggested it many times."

"She has many women aboard her ship." Ili shrugged. "It wouldn't be hard to become one of them, I imagine."

"Huh." Lyme looked very suspicious, and Ili was loathe to ask what was going on in her convoluted head. "Any other thoughts?"

"She has a second." Ili shrugged once more. "Perhaps she could be sweet talked into it."

"A second? Drow? Wears a mask?" Lyme grinned at the thought. "I've seen her. I'd totally go for that. Flash a little leg, a little smile…you think she likes dancing? We could go dancing…"

"And how do you plan to pitch this to her?"

"I walk right up to her and say, 'There's a party in my pants and you have VIP access'." Seeing Ili's face, Lyme chuckled. "Oh, come on, Ili, I wouldn't seriously do that. If anything, I'd tell her that I've been told I'm fairly cute and entertaining, so she should spend a little time with me, if she wants. And I can pick things up with my toes. I know it sounds silly, but its actually very useful…"

Ili rolled her eyes once more. "Is there anything else you'd like to ask me?"

"Not sure. Honestly, I usually just sort of whing these things, and they go well despite everything." Lyme tapped her chin in a thoughtful gesture. "Any more thoughts? I mean, what if the meeting goes badly? What then?"

"Then you bury the other captain six feet under and tell the authorities that you're planting a bitch-garden." Ili's violet eyes flashed. "And eliminate the rest of the opposition to Tiger's rule."

Lyme couldn't help a chuckle. "Standard drow rules? I can live with that."

---***---

"So. This Tina lady. How do you suppose she ended up with a harem full of so many women?" Lyme found herself asking not long after her last visit with her sister.

"Harem?" Ili repeated incredulously, as she and her sister walked along the dockside, their footsteps making no sound. "You think that's what it is?"

"I'm just saying. If there was a ship full of all women in the Underdark, people would get the same idea."

"You were in an all-female organization yourself." Ili pointed out, gesturing to the tattoo of a Blue Skull on Lyme's bicep, a prominent organization of assassins, based out of Ust Natha, and primarily exported to Skullport. At least, it had been, until the decimation of all its members, save one.

"And what do you think we did between missions?" Lyme retorted with a smirk.

"That would certainly prove quite a few theories I've had about how Ivy managed to train you." Ili noted in a dry tone, which Lyme was quick to ignore.

"I'm telling you, something is going on in The Star of the Northern Sea. All those women, trapped together at sea for months at a time, snuggled up in the same quarters, mixing up each other's underwear and pretending its an honest mistake, breathing the same air…"

Ili rolled her eyes at Lyme's remarks. "You know, brothels are full of women and have close living arrangements as well. Do you suppose that they're all molesting each other?"

"It's a brothel. They have to keep their skills sharp in the meantime." Lyme reasoned.

"I don't think that's how it works. Especially not on the surface."

"You say that now, but wait until we're stuck there a few days." Lyme suddenly paled. "You think they have communal showers? You think it's like prison rules? Do I need to make sure I never drop the soap?"

"Probably." The older assassin replied with a straight face. "In fact, I'd take a knife with me everytime I shower. Or just stop showering completely. That seems reasonable."

"Right. Good idea." Lyme tapped her angular chin in a thoughtful gesture. "I think I'm safe from Tina. She doesn't seem like the type to fondle the merchandise. Except for maybe K'arla. You think so?"

"Not sure." Ili had to hide her smirk. "You should probably ask K'arla about it back on the ship."

"Good idea. I should scope out the hierarchy." Lyme shook her head. "I'm telling you, Ili, there's just no other reason to keep so many women in close quarters unless you're forming a harem."

"You might just become part of that harem." Ili informed her little sister, face still perfectly straight, despite her rising desire to burst into laughter.

"Fat chance." Lyme snorted. "I've lived in Calimport, I know how this shit works. No way in hell I'm letting that pirate captain touch me."

"Well, you should make it very clear that you're not interested when she makes advances. In fact, you should verbalize your lack of interest in a very pointed manner."

"Yeah. Good idea. No way I'm joining her harem." Frustrated, Lyme kicked a rock into the ocean nearby. "You know what sucks, Ili? The moment I say I like both men and women, people automatically just assume that means I'm open for business. I do have standards, you know. They're very low, but they do exist! For instance, Tina is cute, but she's a Harper. I don't date Harpers. I mean, after all the trouble Gabe and Tala had with Galvalrey…it'd just be weird."

Cocking her head at her sister, Lyme queried, "Say…aren't you worried about being on the ship?"

"Not particularly. I'm too old and dried up to be of any use to Tina." Ili smirked. "You're still young and fresh though, so make sure you don't drop the soap."

Lyme went white as a sheet at the thought, but she did not remain silent for long. "You're not actually dried up, are you? South of the border, I mean."

"What? No, of course not!"

"Because I hear they make some really good creams for that…"

"I don't need them!"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, Ili. Fresh water still flows from rusty pipes, after all…"

"Lyme, shut up, or I swear I'll push you off the docks."

"Alright, alright." Lyme scowled, muttering under her breath. "No way I'm touching her red panther…well, unless I get to be on top. Knowing her, she'd say a few sweet words, and it'd be all silk sheets and roses for a bit, and then tattered lingerie and broken hearts. Dastardly pirate. She'd sweep me right off my feet, too. She'd collect me just like she did that lady paladin and the blonde ranger! Well forget it! The Skulls did the same thing to me for too many years! I'm done with it! …Unless I get to be on top…I mean…Tina is pretty cute."

"It's good to know you have your priorities laid out." Ili replied in a dry tone. "In any case, you don't even know if Tina would take an interest in you. K'arla, on the other hand…"

"You think so?" Lyme's wintergreen eyes brightened at the thought of the other drow shadow dancer. "I wish. I'd drop my panties quicker than the amount of time it takes that barbarian to piss off the ranger. I could be on top, bottom, sideways, dismounted from a ceiling lamp…"

Ili could feel a headache forming, a typical symptom of long periods sent with Lyme. "Well, make sure you pitch this to her the next time we step aboard."

"Maybe. But Tina might want to join in, and that would totally mess with my swag." Lyme sighed. "Though K'arla might want her to. I guess we can compromise. But if we're going to make this relationship work, we're going to have to discuss just how involved Tina will be, because there are limits to how much I'm willing to share. I mean, what if she steals K'arla away from me completely? That's not cool."

"I think K'arla needs to know that you actually exist before you can start planning these things." Ili shrugged. "That seems standard."

"I guess." Lyme sighed. "Relationships are so hard."

"You're not even in one."

"Exactly." The younger assassin sighed. "Women."

In that moment, Ili decided that if her little sister actually brought up any of this inanity with the poor captain, she would be sure to lie to everyone aboard the Star of the Northern Sea and say that Lymeeari was cursed with madness. Or perhaps Tourettes Syndrome.

---***---

"So what does Tiger plan to do with Baram and Kurth?"

"Well, it's like I told Gabe when we went up against Irenius: 'You have to either kill him…or sleep with him'." Lyme shook her head. "I told Tiger it has to be one or the other."

"Gabriel was your husband, yes?"

Lyme stopped in her tracks, and cast Ili a suspicious look. "We invited you to the wedding. Not that you bothered to show up. Ass."

"I was dead!"

"So was I, for a time, and here I am now." Lyme blew a raspberry. "Lame excuse."

"Ivy took him from you." Ili pointed out, getting to her point with all the bluntness of a hammer. "She took him from you as easily as she took my eye all those years ago. Why isn't she dead?"

"Who else would--"

"Stop." Ili held up her hand. "No jokes, Lyme. I want the truth from you. Right now."

Lyme was serious then, though it did not suit her, and she couldn't help a sigh. "You don't get it, Ili. I don't want her dead."

"Why not?"

"Because it won't do anything. It won't bring Gabe back, it won't make me happy. Did killing Korve all those years ago bring you any satisfaction? Really?"

Ili was silent at the question, and Lyme nodded. "As I thought. Look, I was angry when Gabe first passed. That was two years ago, and I wanted to torch Ivy's cabin and the whole of the Hosttower for the part they played in it…but it won't do anything."

She chuckled as she remembered something. "Tiger put it well once, you know. He might have been drunk, or just pretending, like he does. People tend not to pay attention to guys who claim to predict the future if they seem drunk all the time, you know. It's a good strategy."

"I see. And just what did he tell you?"

The assassin cleared her throat, taking on an imitation of Tiger's rough, uneducated accent, "Aye, lass, ye need ter understand that everyone in this 'ere world is born in a puddle of sand. We take grains from the sand, and make ourselves a glass box ter live in, protect us from the storms an' such. But that box gets tears an' cracks, and sometimes, even shatters all about. So, we need to make ourselves a new box, and we use new pieces fer it. We cannae gather every piece and expect it ter fit back together perfect-like, fer some things be too small ter fit back together. So, we patch it back with new things. Ye cannae spend yer life searchin' fer pieces, but ye can build yerself a new box to live in. And perhaps, sometimes, yeh can step on a little piece o' the old glass. May cut yeh, may hit a callus, but no reason ter include it or not. It's yer choice, yer box."

Lyme smiled wryly. "My life shattered with Gabe's passing. Whose wouldn't, after the loss of a spouse? Especially after a murder like his. I could dwell with it, and swear vengeance, and whatever other angsty, angry thing pops into mind. Or, I could mourn him, and move on, and honor his memory by helping Tiger in his quest to bring some sort of stability to Luskan. I can help him with that, and know that Gabe would be proud of me. What he wouldn't want is for me to cause suffering unto others in his name. He'd hate that. And more importantly, I'd hate that. I want to live my life, Ili. I don't want to spend it mourning forever, because I'll see him again one day. And until then, I don't need to spend every waking minute missing him. That's not a life."

The assassin swallowed, looking down at her dark palms, and seeing the puncture scars that marked her flesh. "I mean, what if we'd had a child, Ili? We grew up with a mother that was always so angry, so bitter at the world for the cards it handed her. I wouldn't do the same to my daughter. I just wouldn't."

Ili quirked her head at Lyme's slip of the tongue. "What would you have named this daughter?"

"Envy." Lyme's smile became wistful, and her fingers gently brushed over her leather-clad stomach. "We would have named her, 'Envy'."

---

"So, I get that Ili is bored, and has nothing better to do with herself, but why are you here, Sol?" Lyme found herself asking as she walked with her sister, every one of her strides matching two of the tall warrior's. "I mean, don't you need to look after Kylee?"

"Daeghun is just as capable as I am." Sol pointed out, eyes forward as she walked, and hands never too far from her sword belt.

"Yeah, but she's not exactly close to him. She's imprinted on you." Lyme cocked her head at Sol. "She's the reason you're here, isn't she? Is she getting ready to leave the nest?"

Surprised that her normally asinine sister was so perceptive, Sol turned to look at her. "She is only sixteen."

"And knowing her, she heard about Aribeth's call to the academy, and immediately wanted to join." Lyme pointed out. "It's the first clue that she's adopted, you know. No heroes in the Barrindars."

"She is too young." Sol stated simply. "She will be ready to leave soon, and make her own path. Until then, she is studying at a temple of Sune not too far from here. That is a suitable environment for her to study. Neverwinter was not."

"And now its plague-damaged, and on the brink of war." Lyme commented.

"Neverwinter is unsuitable to fight, given that most of its forces have been decimated by sickness, and its top general is missing. They will be hungry for clerics to join their ranks, and keep what soldiers they do have alive, and on the front lines." The warrior replied in her usual calm, dry tone. "I suspect that Kylee harbors some notion that she will grow up to become the next Arwen Moondream. Such ideals are natural for one so young, but I will do what I can if it means that she will not see war before the age of twenty."

Coming from Sol, that may as well have been an admission of unconditional love. Lyme couldn't help a smile at her ever cool, ever rational, eldest sister. "You know, I think I can fight for that too. And I think I can help you out along the way."

"Good." Sol cast her gaze towards the ship in the distance. "The Belladonna, yes? Tiger's flagship?"

"That's it." Lyme smiled as they neared the boat. "Why? Are you worried about getting seasick again? Look, if you want to stay locked up in your room all day, I won't tell anyone. Though you really should stay on deck, even if it means throwing up over the side, in front of everyone. Because otherwise--"

"It is not fortified." Sol remarked in a grave voice. "A single large hole would be enough to destroy your forces, and your plans."

"It's been magicked, don't worry." Lyme assured her. "The Hosttower mages think its just another merchant vessel trapped during the war."

"I see. And how do you prevent raids?"

"Oh, the pirates wouldn't dare." Lyme chuckled, thinking of what a superstitious lot they were. Even Tiger, with all his sage wisdom, was known to walk a full block in the opposite direction just to ensure that a black cat did not cross his path. "We have a priestess of Umberlee aboard."

"Rel is here as well?"

Lyme nodded. "Apparently, the other captains haven't been paying enough tribute to Umberlee. So, she's here to exact a little revenge on Kurth and Baram for neglecting their duties."

"And I suppose Tiger has had the foresight to continue tributes to the Bitch Queen, otherwise Rel would not be staying aboard his ship." Sol concluded, nodding. "Presently, it is a good time, but I hope you are thinking of something more long-term."

"Well, now that you're here, I imagine we'll have some new ideas on gathering allies and ending the civil war to put on the table." Lyme chuckled.

Sol did not crack a smile, but something familiar flashed in her eyes. "I can certainly work something out, if Tiger requires tactical thought, in addition to extra muscle."

Lyme smirked as they headed toward the dock. "And he'll be delighted when he learns that you carry both in spades."

Sol nodded, and cut straight to business, asking Lyme, "Do we have any potential allies?"

"It's tricky." Lyme sighed, and began telling her eldest sister all she knew of Captain Tina Grant, and her forces, knowing that Solafae would quickly create a strategy, or at least the beginnings of one.

"…And as far as we know, Aribeth de'Tylmarande has been there for some days. Moondream too. I watched them in the streets some time ago, Sol. The lady paladin collapsed, and clutched her head. It was almost like a--"

"—Psionic attack." Sol finished immediately, nodding. "Then we have a bartering tool."

"How so?"

"A creature that can wear down the mind of an elven paladin of Aribeth's standing is powerful." Sol tapped the gold circlet upon her forehead. "You know what that is?"

"Honestly, I always thought you just wore it to make yourself look a little less scary. It didn't work, Sol."

The warrior couldn't help a roll of her eyes. "Items that block powerful psionic attacks are difficult to come by. After growing up subject to our mother's attacks, I thought it wise to wear something that can block even the worst of psionics, and I had this item crafted by mind flayers in Zorvak'Mur. Needless to say, it is powerful enough to withstand many powerful mental attacks, and has successfully guarded me against them in the past."

"And you're willing to give it up?" Lyme quirked a brow. "I don't think the paladin can spend the rest of her days with a circlet on her head. It'd be difficult to sleep, to say the least."

"It would be a temporary solution, until her mental shield can be restored fully. Rel can help with that, as can Val, if it becomes necessary to call upon an actual psionicist." Sol responded calmly. "Therefore, it is an excellent bartering tool for an alliance."

"Yeah, but what will stop whatever's going after the paladin from attacking you?"

"That is irrelevant. I am not an iconic figure of Neverwinter, and my mind is in much better shape, and better prepared to fend off a psionic attack." Sol replied, her crimson gaze falling upon the dagger at Lyme's waist. "I am expendable, Lyme. Aribeth de'Tylmarande is not. I trust you will do what is necessary if anything happens."

Lyme frowned, always a little off-put by her sister's fatalism. "If I can't, Ili certainly will."

"Ili is here? Good." Sol looked toward the Hosttower in the distance. "The abilities of a warlock will come in handy later. Until then, let us find this pirate captain of yours. Tiger and I have much to discuss."