Disclaimer: The Forgotten Realms campaign setting and its related materials are owned by Wizards of the Coast. I claim no ownership over those creations. However, the characters, events, and the overall plot in this story are all my own original creation.

Author's Note: This story represents the events in a solid 24-hour period, with each chapter (except the prologue and epilogue) representing one hour of that day.


Prologue

From all outward appearances, he looked like nothing more than a common elderly man, sitting calmly at his desk while momentarily taking a sip from his cup of hot tea. Norris laughed inwardly as he silently stared across at the senior. After all, old man Cordas was anything but common.

"Tell me, Norris," Cordas suddenly said before pausing to blow on his tea. "How do you judge the worth of a man's character?"

Norris rolled his eyes and glanced around at the office's sparse wooden walls, knowing full well that Cordas was likely going to answer the question himself. The old blowhard never did like to shut up.

"Is he simply the sum of all his yesterdays, nothing more than a reflection of his past?" Cordas continued. "Or is there something more, some intrinsic part that defines what he is today?" The old man leaned back in his chair and thoughtfully stared across his desk at Norris in the opposite seat.

After waiting a few long seconds of silence, Norris opened his mouth to respond.

Cordas suddenly cut him off. "You see, the historians would have you believe that the past is what shapes us, binding us to what we are. I disagree. True, the past may offer some insight, but it is the present that is most important to us. No choice is bound by what has passed before." He smiled darkly, "How do you feel about that?"

Norris folded his arms over his chest as he glared daggers at the elderly man. "You know, Cordas, for a self-styled crimelord, you certainly like to talk about stale philosophy. Does it make you feel smarter than you actually are?"

"Such rudeness!" cried Cordas as he widened his eyes in mock offense. "So sad that you're ungrateful. Especially after all we've done for you."

Norris reached down and absently rubbed at his legs, "I think I've already paid my debt to you. Ten years is the longest I've been away from you and your stinking operations. Why'd you have to end that streak, why have you called me back?"

"We need someone of your… talents for a special task we been contracted to carry out. I think it would be in your best interests to follow."

This time, Norris laughed out loud. "I don't care what you think; I refuse. Do you think I'm still afraid of you? You going to break my other leg this time?"

Cordas' expression suddenly melted into a harsh glare, "Oh no, that will not be necessary. This time, I have decided to use a more effective means of persuasion." He glanced up at someone over Norris' shoulder and gave a short nod.

Immediately, Norris began to stand up and turn, but a heavy pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and roughly forced him back down. A second later, Norris felt a sharp dagger puncture the back of his neck, severing through tendons and blood vessels to draw a stream of blood. He clenched his teeth and spat a curse at Cordas, who simply leaned forward on his arms and looked on with indifference.

Cordas spoke, "You see, Norris, the client for this particular job is a very important figure in my business. And I cannot spare any expense in carrying out my lord's will." He waved his hand and the dagger was unsympathetically jerked out of Norris' flesh.

"I offered you a chance here and now, and I would have been willing to forget our dealings in the past. But I suppose that's your problem; you never think of where you are and what's right in front of you. Always looking back at what has happened before, but at the expense of the moment."

The younger man slapped a hand over his neck wound and looked to the side, where he saw one of Cordas' goons holding a weapon. It was a dagger dripping in a mixture of Norris' blood and some sort of green slime. Norris suddenly noticed a warm, unpleasant tingling sensation coming from his wound.

"You will do as I direct, Norris. Because as of this moment, you have only twenty-four hours left to live."

(6:00 AM) Dawn