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Beside the sword appears a tankard of viking cide-oil, which the paladin rubs nto the sword, hearing a satisfying "mmm" noise come from it. For the next couple of hours, this sword will be drunk, but the paladin doesn't figure on getting in any scraps for a little while anyway
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"Don't worry, lad" says an armoured figure. Your powers tell you this guy is also a paladin, ala BG2 with the Holy Avenger too. "I beat it without the Cloak of Mirrors, so I did - damn those beholders - had to flood the buggers with summonings from my mateys"
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The mage, Netebbor, moves away into some shadows. Anybody following doesn't find him - but he's around - waiting for whoever wins ToB evilly
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