[Lady Dragonfly]

Enke’s Tale
Race: Halfling
Gender: Female
Class: Terminator

If you are planning to visit Baldur Gate, make sure you drop by The Swanky Pumpkin, one of the Sword Coast’s best seaside taverns, and order a lunch. Trust me, their La Bouillabaisse de Sirène and Brochettes de Warg au Romarin are to die for.

At least that was the case when Enke the Black Widow owned the establishment.
Wealthy merchants, prominent citizens and even haughty nobles frequented The Swanky Pumpkin’s well-appointed dining hall complete with a flock of misty-eyed serving wenches gliding between the tables and the ebullient trio of kobolds Tres Koboldieros incessantly electrifying patrons with the schmaltzy potboilers. After a sumptuous four-course dinner, the honored guests could comfortably retire into a private parlor for a confidential rendezvous.

Effervescent and buoyant, petite and pleasantly round where it counts, Enke was the epitome of the charming hostess; however, her greatest asset was her unsurpassed culinary talent, greatly admired by all her customers. The way to man's heart is through his stomach, so it should come as no surprise that crafty Enke was married six times. All her gourmandizing husbands zestfully lived and died at the dining table laden with exquisite entrées, pastries and desserts, bequeathing their fortunes to their temporary inconsolable but keeping a sharp lookout for her next chance, widow. No evidence of foul play had ever been unearthed, and, according to Chief Inspector Crammer who, incidentally, happened to be one of The Swanky Pumpkin’s loyal patrons, the respectable proprietress was above suspicion.

…The fateful night Richie Copperhead, suave and debonair, entered The Swanky Pumpkin and ordered pâté de foie gras, was marked by thunder, lightning, falling stars and other signs and portents, as if the middle Finger of Fate were pointing ominously at the tavern, foretelling the cataclysmic events…

Every Halfling is a self-proclaimed gastronome; Richie Copperhead was a king of gastronomy, and Enke’s heart melted like butter on a hot skillet. Theirs was a romantic courtship; the couple indulged in endless candlelit dinners, clambakes and steamy debates about intricate methods of goose cooking. In Enke’s enamored heart, Richie was quickly ascending from “one of” into “the One”.

The wedding feast was lavish and bountiful, with chiming bells, yodeling kobolds, and the merry guests placing bets with a local bookie on how long the marriage would last.

Weeks and months slipped by, filled with joy, tender love, and heart-shaped cookies until one night Enke caught a glimpse of her husband furtively entering a private parlor with a suspicious stranger. The doors were closed, but Enke had her own ways of keeping a watchful eye on her property. Peering through a hidden peephole carved in a wall, she could observe the conspirators and hear little snatches of conversation. What she overheard there left her deeply unsettled. The suspicious stranger was talking about the mysterious “last chance” and urging Richie to hurry up, “or else”. Anxious, she waited until the coast was clear and slunk into her husband’s study, hoping to find some clues and answers there.

The desk drawers were firmly locked but Enke easily picked the locks with a skeleton key she always carried in her pocket, just in case. In a bottom drawer she found a little leather-bound diary. Why villains love diaries so much remains one of the greatest mysteries of this world.

With her heart pounding, Enke opened the journal and started reading. In a flowery style Richie described his long association with the notorious Assassin Guild, how he was charged with the important task of obtaining the Black Widow’s fabled poison, and how he was snooping around and sniffing every nook and cranny to no avail.

Enke gasped for air. Her treacherous husband and his filthy guild dared to suspect her of harboring a sinister secret! Concealing a deadly poison! Her, whom even Chief Inspector Crammer believed to be above suspicion! Hot tears filled her eyes: how could she ever forgive such a flagrant indiscretion?

Feeling dejected and betrayed, Enke replaced the diary, returned to her bedroom and lightly pressed a golden leaf on her ornate wall mirror. The mirror softly slid to one side revealing a secret compartment with a small crystal phial inside. She decided that two drops would suffice.

A week later the widow entrusted her tavern to a loyal steward and left the city.

In Baldur Gate III, you are going to meet Enke soothing her frazzled nerves and mending her broken heart at a fashionable Spa Resort. If your charisma is high, you can persuade her to join your party. If your constitution is high, you can attempt a wild romance. If your wisdom is high, you should know better.