We stepped out, into the light. What we thought to be our salvation, turned into our hell. He was there, right there toying with those thieves. I felt the power of my blood -- my anger -- grow, urging me to attack, forcing me to attack. So I did, I did and ignored the cry of protest from Jarheira. I charged at my tormentor, preparing my mind and body for one spell and then one attack. That is all I had, all I needed.
When I closed the distance to mere feet, my magic released upon him. The look of shocked pain on his face, it drove me further into my attack. The distance became non-existence; my dagger stuck his face, his forehead, his brain.
He backs away, grabbing his forehead. He could do nothing; he was in too much pain. My move saved my life; it had saved my comrades-in-arms. But I drained myself of everything, I had nothing left, nothing but the void.
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My eyes opened slowly, pain hit my nerves, all of my nerves. I never felt like this, Jarheira had always healed me before any other, even her husband… her dead husband.
As I got use to the pain, I looked around. I was in a room, a lushly furnished room. I did not know where I truly was; I never spent much money for rooms and I knew that my party knew my reasons; comfort breeds comfort-cravings and competent.
I hear the door open, followed by light steps. I wanted to call out to Imeon, but I dared not. I dared not for reasons that I don't know. But I was thankful that I did not, the person came to the bed and peered over me, checking me as I it.
It was an old human female, a cleric to boot, based on her robe and the holy symbol on her neck. She nodded once, straighten herself and left. She left without saying a word, even a sound from her body, besides the sound of her sandaled feet lightly walking.
After a few minutes, I felt something, something warm and inviting. I instantly resisted mentally, but my body did not. My body welcomed the lost of thought, my body craved the feelings. I soon fell asleep.
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I woke up again and again, only to be put to sleep. I never ate during this time, never leaving the bed. I tried to contact my Goddess for help, for anything, only to receive nothing. Nothing but hope. But hope for what? I could not fathom why my Goddess would send me hope without giving me an answer, nor did I ever get much time for thought.
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I awoke again, hearing the voices of men inside my room. I kept my pose on the bed, not moving. But even with my good hearing, I could not make out the voices. Was it magic, or was it something that they did to their voices?
"This one… this mage?"
"The question is this. Is he a mage?"
"Magic flows though him. That is all we know."
"Can he be turned?"
"Into what? A Mind Flayer? A Troll? A chipmunk?"
"Into one of us." This voice, it seems familiar. And yet, I cannot tell the difference between his voice and the others.
"Mostly likely; though the effort would drain us of our powers and magic. The question now becomes this: is this unknown worth the effort?"
The familiar again, this time I detect a feminine note in the voice, "Yes, he shall be worth the effort. I shall begin the gathering." Familiar leaves with barely making a sound.
"Hehe, this shall be entertaining."
"I'll question the wisdom of these actions. They do not become of us."
"True, true my friend. But if she tells us to do something, we do it. We of the Cowl must survive the coming war."
"What war could draw us in?"
"A war that revolves around these Bhaalspawn. They will be the death or survival of us and our homes."
"I'm forced to agree with that nonsense. Lets go, this Spawn will awaken soon." They left with that, leaving me alone.
I did not know what they planned, or why they planned on using me. But I needed to remember all of this. That I know without a doubt. I laid bare my mind, preparing for one spell that could aid me in the future, this spell would aid me, it must.
I made a copy of all my memories, and hid it inside the deep recesses of my brain. Protecting it and protecting me. I prepared myself for the next sleep spell, ready for what will soon come. Or at least, hoping that I am ready.
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I woke up again, this time it was different, I felt that my memories had been modified. Most of them, not all of them. Those that I still have, I feel that they are being changed. My last memories left are memories of current events, realizing this; I activated my stored memory spell. I restored my memories almost instantly, but at the same time, I kept those modified memories. These people… The Cowled Wizards… wanted me for something, I aimed to find the reason.
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Once the spell was over, the sleep spell was cast on me again, only this time it was weaker. Because of this weakness, I negated the spell, and stayed awake studying these new memories. I need answers to my questions, and I need them soon!
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It has been a month since that night. I joined these Cowled Wizards with no problem. Their memories gave me the edge on everything concurring them. Within that month, I gained many new spells; and added them to my spell book and arsenal. I even don their robes without flinching at their haphazard protective wards.
Their trust was also easy to gain; all I needed to do was to never mention my past in Candlekeep. Now I can leave their tower at will, within reason.
Of course, reason was not needed when I gave them the excuse that I needed to see what my magic could truly do.
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The city of Athkatla, a cesspool of vice and death. A city that should have had a temple to Bhaal, just for all of the true evil contained within. That least that is my opinion of this city.
I entered the ruined Promenade, just to see what the battle did to the famous trade center. What I encountered was something that I did not think I'd see. The circus area – minus the main tent – had been transformed into an army camp. The army seemed to lay siege on the tent; it seems almost comical, but the looks of despair on the soldiers told me that something was going on, something magical.
I decided to investigate, but my robes are a dead give away as to what I am; a Cowled Wizard. And these people fear those of the Cowl more then their own troops. I skirted the inner perimeter, looking for a store that would sell a wizard's robe. I found one quickly, near the entrance to the tent. I questioned the hawker in front of the place, seeing if the gnome knew about any robes inside. After a few minutes of letting the gnome recite the entire inventory, I stopped him by raising my hand and entering the store.
Inside I saw why the place is called the Adventurer's Mart, it was over-stocked with all of the gear that one of could need. I quickly struck a deal with the manager -- one Rilbard – I would trade my robe for one Knave's Robe. The deal was swift and painless; I had no true connections to the Cowled Wizards, besides those that they set up.
Wearing my new robes, I left the store and walked towards the tent. The guards there, when I started my query, were apprehensive about talking with a mage and rightful so, I am one mage that could cast one spell and bring the entire camp down. Not that I would, I just could. The commander of the unit soon came, asking me why I wished to know about what was going on. I simply said that curious and that I could help. He said that he knew nothing truly useful, but he did offer me five thousand gold and a magical blade if I could clear the tent of all inhabitants. I agreed, seeing nothing wrong with this mission of death.
As soon as I entered the tent, I was transported into a different dimension, because there is no way that I could be inside the tent seeing as I was now on a broad marble bridge. Seeing nothing but darkness surrounding me, I proceeded to the center of the bridge; once I got there, I found a massive stone fortress. Swearing at the lack of information from the guards, I stepped towards the keep, intent on keeping my mission. After I stepped off the bridge, I was greeted by a strange being, that appeared behind me.
The being was a muscular humanoid that had a mist coming out of where it's legs should be. It had a deep desert tan, a tan that my lost lover – Imoen – would love to have. Next was it's face, tusks protruded from the mouth, like the tusks of an elephant; it's eyes were a dark red. I wrack my mind for the creature's identity, only figure that it was one of two possibilities – a Dijinn or an Efreeti. The history of the two became useless to me, only the facts that these creatures are advanced guards for powerful wizards.
Before he could start to talk, I launched a magic missile spell at it, startling the creature. The shock would quickly fade, so I launched myself into the attack. I used my lightly enchanted staff to club the Efreeti in the face with a diagonal slash, stunning him even more. I quickly switch my hands to use the other end of the staff to perform the same move, in reverse. This diagonal slash hit his elbow, forcing him to drop his scimitar. Seeing him completely disarmed from physical attacks, I cast one more spell, a water bolt.
The Cowled Wizards had forbid the use of forgotten magics, but I was technically not a Cowled one. The bolt of water hit the being of Fire squarely on the chest; the water sizzled away slowly, leaving the Efreeti venerable for one last attack. I quickly took out an enchanted throwing dagger and let it fly towards the wounded chest of the planar creature. The creature fell to the floor of the bridge, dead before he hit the marble. I picked up the sword, after sensing magical energies on it.
I continued on, towards the stone fortress, now coming to a clear focus. The building turned into a grand palace, made from the same material as the bridge. I entered the building, not hurrying, not slowing. Once I entered the structure, I slowed down to a stop. In front of me stood two orcs, an Ogre, and a giant spider. They were bickering among themselves, even if I got within five feet of them, they would have never noticed. I had two decisions to make; one is to kill them all, the other to hide myself into the shadows and sneak past them. Though sneaking pass them would have proven to be the easier course, I went with the more direct approach. I cast a fireball into the center of the group, killing them all in one hit.
I walked towards the new corpses, intent on seeing if they carried any items of use to me. What I found was the charred body of a female elf and another of a female human, right where the Ogre and Spider stood. I stood there, shocked at my actions. I had killed two innocents, two people that did not deserve to die. I felt like some one played a deadly joke on me, a joke that made me kill two women that had their lives ahead of them. I lowered my head and muttered a prayer to my Goddess, Midnight, for the delivery of these souls into peace.
Death was, as always, my constant companion. Wherever I go, I kill. That simple fact fueled me in the past, causing my chaotic nature. But did it always have to control me? Yes, the answer was always, yes. Death is in my blood, even if I was not a Child of the God of Murder and Death. Death is in the blood of all people, of any species. There is no running away from that truth, I had never ran away from the truth either. I suddenly drew my twin daggers, chanting a spell that appeared in my head. I changed my daggers, improving them with new magics, from a spell that I do not know. But I did know that they, the daggers, had become my symbol of death and acceptance.
As I looked up, up from the corpses, up from my daggers, I heard laughter from beyond an enormous door way. I swore that if that laughter came from the master of this place of illusions, then I would kill him with out holding back any of my magic.
I left the corpses, undisrupted. Whatever they had, they can keep. I entered into a new room, this time I had time to look at it, before noticing the approaching monsters. This room was draped with velvet… velvet anything. I immediately thought that I came into a Casmhian harem, with the slave girls at the back of the room. Though after noticing the slaves, I noticed the monsters that were closing in on me. Shadows and werewolves, weak monsters for those prepared with heavy magic.
I drew my quarterstaff once again as I prepared a spell, knowing that my daggers, though powerful, were useless against a group of six shadows and five werewolves. As they neared, they slowed down, circling me, entrapping me. I knew that it was a smart move, a move that only a group with a commander could perform. I looked around, trying to see anyone that controlled these creatures, only to hear more laughter from above a set of stairs. I knew then that I faced a fellow mage, but this mage delighted himself on the pain of others, one could tell that by looking at the slaves.
As I was swearing to kill that laughing mage, a werewolf charged at me, faster then I thought. Though the blow hit me, I felt… nothing. I quickly realized that the werewolf was an illusion, most thing here were nothing more then illusions! Though when a shadow made a weak strike against me, I also realized that not all things here are phony.
I released my spell, my chain lightning, upon the shadows. As the lightning passed me by, it killed five of the six. The last one seemed hesitate to charge me now, knowing that it was the last one. Its hesitation was its death, as I did an overhead slash at it with my staff.
I stayed in the room for a while, resting and rememorizing my magic. The slaves stayed near the window, and away from me. For that I was thankful; one of them looked a little like Imoen, and after being use to her nightly visits before my capture, made looking at her near impossible without thinking of my love.
After I finished with my preparations, I walked up the stairs, and into… a marble circus tent? The change surprised me enough that I did not notice the big hulking form of an Ogre Mage, until it was too late. The Ogre hit me with his morning star, sending me flying towards the wall. Only my late-to-trigger contingency equipped with stone skin saved my life. I quickly got up and launched a wave of a color spray to find the bastard. But I did not need to do that, the mage charged at me with four shadows at his sides. I would have been afraid, had the mage not ran right into a sleeping orb and the shadows into combat orbs.
I shook my head, the battle was over faster then I could have imagined. I quickly ended the mage's life with a flame arrow spell; I did not have the spirit to kill him with my physical weapons. But, as the mage's body burned, the world around me seemed to shift and soon I was in a true circus tent and all around me were the corpses of the slaves and former monsters of the burned mage. I checked the remains of the mage, and I took his former gold and magical processions.
I walked out of the tent, only to find half of the army ready to charge inside. But seeing me step outside made the army cheer like crazy. I later found out that this was in fact the first time anyone left the tent and that I saved the fifth company from whatever fate befell the other four. The commander quickly came to me and gave me the promised five thousand gold and a magical long sword. I quickly sold the two swords that I gained in this mission for more gold, and then I brought a better-enchanted quarterstaff and the Ring of Victors.
As I left the Promenade, I felt a strange pull on my heart. I looked around me, looking for whatever did that, but I found no one around me that could have done that. Puzzled, I headed for the Government district.