we’ll get a free look at the trading goods – some
potentially magical – transported into Targos. But we
could do with some brawny backup to take the blows for
us. We head to the pub to rouse a mercenary trio, the Iron
Collar Company, but they sneer in our faces. “Who the
hells do you think ye are,” says the one called Black
Geoffrey, “butting into my tale while I’m sharing a tankard
with my friends?” We’re on our own.
Brogan seems worried. “You might want to keep
wounded members of your party – or, uh, wizards –
outside the warehouse while the rest of your band storms
the place,” he says. “One arrow can drop a man before he
even knows the archer is there.”
“Hmm,” replies Whambam. “Sound advice. Still, we
wizards are a lot stronger than we appear.”
When Whambam opens his palms to greet the first
wave of goblins, flames emerge. Szass Quatch takes the
opposite approach, chilling her hands to lethally low
temperatures and playing ‘frostbite tag’ with the
panicked enemy archer. Our reward for victory is a
buffet of shipping crates and containers, which yields a
smattering of darts and crossbows, plus one dead cat,
which we take, because no self-respecting necromancer
turns their nose up at a fresh body.
Then we find a ladder, at the bottom of which are
some caves, stuffed with more goblins. This is D&D, after
all, and there’s no such thing as a ground floor dungeon.
For a little while, Kul Anthurrgangg’s illusions work like a
charm, literally – turning some of the monsters against
their pals. But as our spellbook thins once more, the fight
starts to flow in the other direction. A tough blighter in
black armour, named Rukworm, sticks Whambam in the
chest with a rusty blade – killing him instantly. At least the
red won’t show on his robes.RED DEAD
After a quick reload, it’s back to the boat for a kip. They
say a rest is as good as a change, and so it proves when we
hit the warehouse tunnels with an overwhelming barrage
of fireworks. Once Rukworm is down, we bring the battle
to some nearby kegs, as retribution for our snubbing at
the hands of the drunken Iron Collar Company. Out of
one smashed barrel falls a charred scroll which,
annoyingly, not one wizard among our number canidentify. But Brogan suggests the mayor’s wife can – she’s
a powerful elven mage, apparently. We set off to find her,
hoping this piece of paper will be the starting point for a
collection of rare magicks.
Elytharra, famed for her supposed kindness, happily
takes 100 gold pieces from the party in exchange for a
glance over the goblin scroll. Turns out it’s an exhausted
teleportation spell, now useless. The Red Wizards are
fuming. Until, that is, Elytharra mentions it’s likely one
of a pair – used to fast-travel a subject from one location
to another. Somebody,itseems,hasteleportedthe
goblins into the cavesbeneaththedocks.ThatCRIMSON KINGS
Anatomy of a Red Wizard of Thay1
CLOAK
Cloaks are for
professional and
personal wear. Any
colour’s fine, so long
as it’s red.2
EXPRESSION
Cruel and
unaccommodating,
in keeping with the
prevailing national
mood of Thay.3
HANDS
Used for raising
the dead and
drawing tattoos.
Really: they’re
tattoo artists.somebody is a mage, a traitor to the
town, and probably still nearby. It’s
time for us to find the culprit, and
steal their magic items.
“If you have come to aid Targos, I
would be pleased to pass along what
arcane knowledge I can,” says
Elytharra. “Uh... sure,” says
Whambam. “The defence of Targos
and all that. What kind of magic do
you have?”
Elytharra’s shop shelves are
stacked with strange scrolls, most of
which we can’t afford. But we do
splash out on Dispel Magic,
suspecting there to be a rival wizard
up ahead. Old Zzimerfram, however,
fails to copy the scroll to his
spellbook – presumably breaking his
pencil. Now we’re skint, and no more
powerful for our spent coin. It’s
harsh, this wizarding life.231PERSONALADVENTURES IN GAMES
DIARY
This gnome has a habit of
crash-landing his airship
in Icewind Dale games.