Um...what do I say? Oh, thanks for the reviews! Now what do I say...? How about...I OWN BALDUR'S GATE! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!! Blasphemy, I know. So...oh, in this story Karl remembers Alianna and his 'life before Gorion', as the game puts it. So...er...bye?

Wait, I'm not done! Um...this chapter has just a tiny bit of badness. Just a very tiny bit. Oh, and I randomly decided to put a younger Keldorn in this chapter...I don't know why, I just made a paladin and decided to name him Keldorn. Oh, and this chapter isn't all that eventful or exciting, it's just sort of an introduction into their new lives. Okay, now I'm done...

New Families

I walk this empty street

On the Boulevard of Broken Dreams

When the city sleeps

And I'm the only one and I walk alone

Karl-7, Sarevok-8, Bree-6, Imoen-5

Sarevok had nearly lost sight of the temple when there was a blinding flash of light not ten feet in front of him. Two people, a man and a woman, appeared out of thin air, both of them covered in blood.

The woman was the first to notice the boy. "Who...are you?"

Sarevok didn't respond, he just stared at them. The man stepped forward, glancing at the numerous trickles of blood on Sarevok, products of the shattered glass window. "Are you from the temple, boy?"

"I..." Sarevok stopped, unsure of whether or not to trust the people who had invaded his recent home. "I...yes." he whispered, preparing for death.

The man cocked his head to the side, sizing Sarevok up. "You're too young to be a priest...you're a...Bhaalspawn, aren't you?"

"Yes." Once they reached a certain age, usually eight or nine, every child was informed of their lineage, though it meant little to them.

The woman pulled her hair out of its bun and let it fall around her, reaching nearly to the ground. "Well, Bhaalspawn, do you have a name?"

Sarevok blinked. They...weren't going to kill him? "I'm...Sarevok. I'm...looking for my sister."

The woman arched one brow. "Well, kid, I'm Kiera, and this is Reiltar. You're looking for your sister, you say?"

"Y-yes. A lady took her through..." he struggled to remember the term. "A...portal, I think."

"There are numerous people who could have taken your sister, boy." Reiltar said uncaringly, still sizing up Sarevok. "Forget about her."

Sarevok didn't answer, just narrowed his eyes and looked away.

An uncomfortable silence ensued. Finally Kiera spoke. "Where are you going, Sarevok?"

"I..." he trembled, the reality of the past few hours finally hitting him full force and filling his eyes with tears. "I don't know. I don't know..."

Kiera smiled kindly and handed him a vial of blue liquid. "Here. Drink this, kid, it will heal your cuts."

He looked at her suspiciously, remembering the vial Bree had almost taken. "I...I don't trust you." he said simply, feeling slightly foolish.

Reiltar seemed amused. "Oh, you don't? Why not?"

He shrugged, feeling vaguely like Reiltar was testing him. "Why should I?"

Reiltar nodded, as if reaching some private decision. "Yes. Exactly. Why should you? You shouldn't, you know."

Sarevok frowned at him, slightly confused. "What-?"

Kiera interrupted, looking back at the temple, now just a dark outline against the night sky. "Look, Sarevok, you don't have to trust us or anything, but...do you want to come with us?"

He looked from one kind face to one cold one, blinking. "Where?"

Reiltar spoke, "I'm going to Baldur's Gate. Have you heard of it?" Sarevok nodded. "Good. Kiera is going to Candlekeep, a...library south of Baldur's Gate. Have you heard of it?" Sarevok shook his head.

Kiera smiled and stretched. "Well, it's a long journey. Many days, on horseback. Fortunately, I have teleports. Do you wish to come?"

Sarevok just stared, unsure. "I...don't know. What will I do, once we get there?"

Reiltar seemed vaguely surprised by the question. "What will you-? Whatever you want, boy. You can come with one of us, or go on your own, whatever you wish."

Kiera lifted one brow questioningly. "The Iron Throne would take him in?"

"Of course. He'd hardly be a detriment."

She shrugged. "Whatever. So, what'll it be, kid?"

He just stared at the ground, unwilling to put his life in the hands of these two people. Closing his eyes, he sighed and spoke. "I...guess so." he said quietly, suddenly feeling like he was making the worst mistake ever.

Kiera grinned and clapped him on the back, not noticing the way he flinched away from her. "Great! All right, kid, you'll love Candlekeep. Even if you don't stay there. Say, is there something shorter to call you than 'Sarevok'? Honestly, I don't know how you sign stuff." he blinked at her. "How about...Servo?"

He stared at her for a long moment, then shook his head, now thoroughly confused.

"Dang. How about...Sarry? It's kinda-"

"Don't call me that." he said automatically, feeling a twinge of unexplainable anger well up inside.

"No? How about-"

"Can we just go already?" Reiltar said impatiently, scowling at his childish companion.

"Oh, fine." she began the spell, and again Sarevok felt Reiltar's probing eyes on him.

Gorion and the still-screaming Karl reappeared in the middle of the forest surrounding the temple. Gorion clamped his hand over the boy's mouth, since he was unsure of how far away from the temple they were. Karl struggled, of course, but Gorion held him firmly until he relaxed somewhat.

"Who...who are you?" the boy asked once Gorion's hand was gone.

"My name is Gorion."

There was a long silence. Karl looked around warily, as if expecting the priests to burst from the forest around them. When a good five minutes had passed without any sudden attacks, Karl looked back at Gorion. The man's age was hard to determine, but the grey in his hair and beard were a clear hint.. His face was long and thin, with a bony, slightly crooked nose and slight crinkles around his eyes and mouth, giving him a stern appearance. He had black hair, now streaked with pale grey and white. Gorion was tall, not too muscular, and wearing dark grey robes. He held a staff with a large sapphire on one end, and he smelled particularly foul. But what really caught Karl's attention was the man's eyes; they were almond shaped and appeared slightly slanted, and were the deepest, iciest grey Karl had ever seen.

The silence stretched on, lasting several more minutes. Gorion fished through his pockets, pulling out a foul-smelling lump of something brown, and placed it on the ground in front of him. Then Gorion looked at Karl expectantly, as if waiting. The boy shifted, then mumbled, "My name is Karl."

Gorion nodded, looking at him speculatively. Karl looked away, uncomfortable with the man's piercing grey eyes. "Karl, why were you on that alter?"

He stiffened at the blunt question and looked at Gorion, open-mouthed. The man didn't look suspicious or cruel, however. He just appeared...curious. And concerned. "I...my...my mother...put me there."

His voice cracked and he turned away, unwilling to let this man see him cry. A moment later he felt Gorion's hand on his shoulder. "I...am sorry."

He trembled and let one tear slip out. "You...you killed her." he wasn't sure if her was angry, sad, or relieved. "You killed her..."

"I had no choice, Karl. I am truly sorry." Karl heard only sincerity in Gorion's voice. "It is...difficult to lose a loved one." he wiped his eyes and turned back to the man, startled to see that Gorion's stern face had softened into a look of sympathy and honest regret.

They stood in silence again, until Gorion finally spoke. "Karl...who was your father?"

Karl shrugged. "I...don't know. Mother never talked about him."

Gorion nodded slowly, digesting this information; he had a motherless, homeless Bhaalspawn who didn't even know he was a Bhaalspawn. Gorion sighed. "I...have an idea, Karl, though you are not obligated to agree." he continued before the boy could ask what 'obligated' meant. "I live with other mages in a library called Candlekeep. If you desire it, you may stay there. You will be given food, a home, an education...and a chance to see more of the Realms. I often travel in order to acquire spellbooks or rare scrolls, and I would be willing to take you with me. What do you say?"

Karl blinked at the man. They had just met, and yet he was offering him a home, a life... Karl bit his lip. "I...don't know how to do anything. I can't do anything. I can't work, if that's what you-"

Gorion waved his hand dismissively. "You will not need to do any work, aside from perhaps studying. And," he added, looking down his nose at Karl, "I seriously doubt that you 'can't do anything'."

"I...ok, I'll...come with you, I guess."

"Excellent." the mage said, picking up the lump of brown stuff. "Now, if you'll hold on for a moment, I will teleport us to Candlekeep..."

"It's all right with me, but...are you sure about this? I mean, she saw her own mother's body, love. She could easily be scarred for life-"

Gerta interrupted her handsome, concerned husband. "I know, but...we can't just abandon her, Dale. She needs a home, and we can give her one."

Dale glanced into the other room, looking at the sleeping girl. Imoen was sprawled on a rocking chair, having just recently cried herself to sleep. His eyes filled with sympathy and he couldn't help but give a tender smile. His plump, short wife laid a hand on his arm, also looking gently at the little girl.

He embraced Gerta lovingly, his eyes moistening. "I know. We can't leave her. She needs someone, and maybe...maybe this can be our chance. You've always wanted a little girl, and, well...now we have a chance to take care of one."

The plump woman returned her husbands embrace. "She needs us. I...I think we might need her a little bit, too."

Dale leaned against the door frame, smiling as Imoen snored quietly. "What will she do? I mean...she can't just sit around at the inn all day, and I don't want any of the drunks that come here anywhere near her."

Gerta smiled. "I'm sure we'll find something to keep her busy. Besides, in a few years she can serve some of the customers."

Dale nodded absently, then walked over to the sleeping girl's form. She whispered 'mommy' in her sleep, and he swallowed tightly. Gerta came over, picked up the child, and placed her on the bed, all the while murmuring soothing words.

The couple stood watching the girl for several minutes. Imoen began to tremble and twitch in her sleep, then she abruptly shot up in bed and screamed , "Mommy!"

Gerta sat down next to the child and took her in her arms, letting the girl sob again.

The woman walked swiftly through the dark, narrow alley, holding the silver-haired Bhaalspawn in one arm. The girl was still unconscious, a trickle of blood coming from the large welt on her head. The woman reached the end of the alley, turned a corner, and began to silently descend some old, cracked stone steps.

When she reached the bottom she knocked twice on the door, waited a few seconds, then knocked three times. There was a brief pause, then an eyehole slid open and a voice, lisping and quiet, came from the hold.

"Who'th there?"

"It's me, you idiot. I need to talk to Vars."

The door opened, revealing a short, scarred man with stringy hair. He glanced up the stairwell suspiciously, then allowed the woman to come in.

He gave her a crooked grin, revealing several chipped, yellowed teeth. "Well, well. More buthineth...'tranthactionth' with Varth?"

Her lips twitched as she listened to him. "Yes. Where is he?"

"In hith room...with a girl, though, tho you'll have to wait."

She began walking down the grimy, dimly lit hallway, heading towards Vars' room. "I'll apologize for interrupting...later."

The greasy man hesitated, then ran after her. "Wait! If you interrupt, he'll punith me!"

She scowled; his voice had reached that whiny, high pitch that made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. "I don't care. Besides, Poggol, you'll get in trouble if you leave your post."

Poggol halted in midstride, then turned and practically sprinted back to his post. The woman grinned slightly and continued on to Vars' room.

As she passed a large, locked door she paused, listening intently. She could hear the sound of drunken men cheering wildly, and the clash of steel on steel. After several seconds, the clanging metal was interrupted by a scream of absolute pain, followed by the roar of some wildcat.

She glanced absentmindedly at the child lying limply in her arms, then turned and walked swiftly to Vars' room. Opening the door, she smirked at the sound of a woman gasping in pleasure. She murmured a quick spell, creating an orb of glowing light. A muffled, surprised squeal sounded from the bed, followed by a woman with tousled hair sitting up. Next to her, a man no older than his late twenties sat up, grinning when he saw the intruder. There were several seconds of awkward silence, then a pretty blond girl sat up on the man's other side.

The woman shifted the girl in her arms and smirked at the man. "Playtime's over, ladies. Vars, I have an item you'll be very interested in."

As the two woman climbed out of bed Vars gave the still-smirking woman a murderous glare. As he reached for his pants he said, "This had better be good."

"It is. Believe me, it is."

'We'll be in sight of Candlekeep in just a few minutes, kid. Do you know where you wanna go?"

Sarevok shifted on his horse, fingers tangled in the creature's mane. "I don't know. What's it like there?"

Kiera grinned. "To be honest, kid...it's really boring. All people really do there is read, study, practice spells... It's heaven for scholars and mages like myself, but...you said you were a fighter, right?" he nodded, glanced nervously at the silent Reiltar. "Well, in that case, you might be better off going with Reiltar. The Iron Throne is famous for it's skilled soldiers and security, I'm sure Reiltar could make sure you get proper training."

Sarevok glanced at Reiltar again, then looked back at Kiera. So far, Reiltar had been...boring. He sometimes asked Sarevok about his training and what he'd been taught at the temple, but that was really the only times he'd spoken. Kiera, on the other hand, seemed friendly, almost like a big sister.

The boy sighed, closing his eyes. "I...I don't know."

Reiltar spoke suddenly. "Kiera...what will the other people at Candle keep say? Will they allow him...?"

Kiera frowned. "I...honestly don't know. That's why I think he'd be better off with you."

Sarevok sighed and made a decision, for some reason regretting it. "I don't want to cause you any trouble, my lady. I'll...go with Reiltar, I guess..."

Kiera nodded. "That's probably for the best." Neither of them noticed Reiltar's unexplainable smirk.

It wasn't long before they had reached the gates of Candlekeep. Kiera stopped at the entrance, turned to Sarevok, and smiled. "Well, I'll see you around, kid. Take care of him, mister 'Iron Throne'."

Sarevok waved goodbye, then looked at Reiltar. The man was watching him with a disturbingly predatorial look. After a moment Reiltar turned his horse and headed north. "Follow me, boy."

"What'll it be?" a tired, frazzled Gerta asked the group of adventurers who came into the inn. She had just managed to get little Imoen to stop crying and fall asleep again, and Dale had gone out to look for a bed, or the supplies to build one. The apparent leader of the group, a tall man wearing bright armor, approached the counter.

"Honey mead, and some bread and soup for all of us, please." he returned to his companions and they sat down as Gerta prepared their meal.

The group at the table talked in lowered voices, and Gerta blocked them out with pleasant images of Imoen and herself washing clothes together. She had just entered a daydream where a sixteen year old Imoen was dancing around in a lovely pink dress when one of the men at the table interrupted her.

"Excuse me, good lady," he said, approaching the bar. "Are there any other people staying in this inn?"

"No, sir, not right now. Business has been slow recently, no one's stayed here for nearly three days. Why?"

She took a good look at the man; he was tall, muscular, and fairly handsome with kind brown eyes and a well-kept beard. His brown hair was beginning to show streaks of grey, though his fit body and graceful manner did not suggest that he was very old. He was wearing dark orange armor and the sword in his belt gave off a faint silver glow. The man looked around the inn, as if searching for something, and his right hand rested on the hilt of the sword. Finally he frowned at her. "I sense an evil presence in this inn, good lady. Are you sure there is no one else here?"

Gerta's eyes widened in slight alarm. "An...evil presence? In my inn? N-no, good sir, there's no one here but me and..." she hesitated, unsure of what to call Imoen. "And my...daughter."

The man nodded slowly, looked towards the stairs. "Perhaps there is an intruder...stay here, good lady. I'm going to search upstairs." he turned to his companions, most of whom were dressed in similar armor. "Yasmine, I'm going upstairs."

Yasmine, a short woman dressed in mage's attire, stood up. "What's wrong, Keldorn?"

"I sense something evil here."

The man who had ordered the meal also stood, concentrating briefly. "Now that you mention it, I also sense something."

Gerta wrung her apron nervously, half-expecting a demon to come shrieking from the shadows. "Oh, dear...what should I do?"

The man named Keldorn turned to her. "I suggest you get your daughter and wait in your room."

Another woman, this one wearing shining white armor, headed for the stairs. "Keldorn, you wait with her, make sure they aren't attacked."

The man nodded, turning expectantly to Gerta. She went to her room, glancing around nervously as the party all drew weapons and headed slowly upstairs. She was hardly worried about the strangers stealing anything; most of the valuables were hidden in a box under the bed.

As she and Keldorn entered the room the paladin stopped, frowning deeply. He looked slowly around the room, his eyes coming to rest on the sleeping Imoen. The girl woke suddenly as Gerta picked her up and she rubbed her big brown eyes, looking at Keldorn.

"Good lady...your child. Your child has an aura..."

Gerta twisted her head to the side, confused by the man's completely shocked expression. "A what?"

Keldorn placed his hand on his sword. "Your child...is that really your child?"

Gerta stepped back, staring at Keldorn's sword. "W-what do you-? What are you-?"

The paladin swallowed hard, feeling torn at the idea of slaying a child. "Are you sure it's your child? Who was the father?"

Gerta bit her lip nervously, hugging Imoen tightly. "She...she's not my child. Her mother was murdered very recently, and I took her in. I don't know about the father. But...why?"

"She...lady, I believe she's part demon, or something evil." he drew his sword.

The plump woman gasped, stepping back and staring at the girl in her arms. "Wha-? N-no, you must b-be mistaken. She...couldn't possibly be..."

Imoen yawned and wrapped her small arms around Gerta's neck, her sad little eyes still red from all the crying. Keldorn murmured a brief prayer to Torm, then stepped forward. "Lady, please get away from her."

Gerta's eyes widened. "W-what?! You...you're going to...kill her..." she broke off and stood there shivering.

Imoen looked at Keldorn again and gave a shy, almost imperceptible smile. She looked at his shining sword and smiled wider, reaching out her hands towards him.

Both grownups stared at the little girl. Keldorn suddenly approached slowly, laid one hand on Imoen's head. She reached out and touched his armor as he murmured a quiet prayer, trying to understand what her evil aura was from.

After a moment he drew back, frowning again. "Lady...whatever her taint is-"

Gerta interrupted. "Please, sir." she whispered, tears forming in her eyes. "Please...all my life I've wanted a little girl. Please, don't take her from me. She's small, innocent, she couldn't possibly hurt anyone. Please..."

Keldorn closed his eyes and sighed heavily. "I...her taint is very small. Whatever it is, it is definitely evil, but...I do not wish to kill a child. The taint is not a large part of her, but still..." he sheathed his sword. "Just...treat her well. Any taint can be overcome with goodness, and her's is very small."

The woman hugged Imoen tightly. "I'll do anything, anything at all."

"I...cannot kill a child, good lady. Even if she may be touched by evil, she is innocent and pure right now." he turned back towards the door, breathing heavily. "I will tell my fellows that we were mistaken. I bid you farewell, good lady."

Once he had left and closed the door, Gerta sat on her bed, cradling Imoen tightly, quietly crying.

Karl was momentarily blinded by the flash of light, but when his vision returned her saw that he was in a huge library, with endless walls of books rising up around him. Several men and woman approached, greeting Gorion.

"And...who's this?" a young woman questioned the mage, looking at Karl.

Gorion placed a hand on the frightened, confused boy's shoulder. "A young man I met in Waterdeep. He had no home to speak of, and he shows great potential as a mage." the people nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and began questioning Gorion about his journey.

Karl spent the next few minutes looking at the maze of bookshelves, the huge paintings, and the regal sculptures that adorned the huge room. A stone staircase rose up in the middle of the room, it's base resting on a rich brown carpet that stretched across the entire room. His inspection of the room was interrupted when Gorion's hands began steering him towards the staircase.

They passed one floor, then reached another floor. This one was covered with a lush red carpet that trailed off into another hallway. The hallway had numerous doors on its sides, each one closed tightly. Gorion led Karl through one of these doors and into a small room. "Wait here, I'll be back shortly." and with that, the mage was gone.

Karl sat on the room's bed, then got up and began rifling through the fancy dresser. It was empty, save for a few scraps of yellow parchment. There was a nightstand next to the bed with a candle, several sheets of parchment, and a bottle of ink with a quill. There was an empty chest at the end of the bed, and other than that the room was empty.

Suddenly the door opened and Gorion came in, carrying a bundle clothes. "I believe these will fit you, Karl." he placed the bundle on the bed, then looked down his nose at the boy. "Now, listen closely; you may not, under any circumstances, tell anyone where you are from. If asked, you will say that you grew up in Waterdeep. Your family was wealthy until they were driven out of business and forced to live on the streets. I found you in Waterdeep, you asked to come with me, and I allowed you to. Understood?"

Karl frowned. "Yes, but why do we have to-?"

"Very few people know that I went to that temple. My business there was very dangerous and secretive, not something I want anyone to know about." Karl nodded slowly. "Now, there are some other children staying here. Go down to the floor we appeared in, then ask someone to show you to the stables. I believe you will find other children playing some game near the stables. If you want, you can ask one of them to give you a tour."

"Alright, but...where are you going?"

"I am going to speak with a friend about you, Karl. Oh, and if anyone asks, you are my ward. Now, let's go." Karl nodded, and the two of them headed for the staircase.

"A Bhaalspawn, eh?" Vars studied the little girl intently, as if searching for some demonic mark on her body.

"Part moon elf, as well. A prize, am I right?" the woman shifted as the girl moved, her eyelids twitching.

"Perhaps..." the girl's eyes slowly opened, and she looked from one unfriendly face to the other, her dark eyes big and confused. "So...you're awake."

Bree just stared, trying to get her child mind to figure out what had happened. The last thing she'd seen was Sarry...holding that bloody dagger... She sniffed and rubbed her eyes, trying to erase the burning sensation she felt behind them. The strange man suddenly placed his hand under her chin, raising her eyes to meet his.

"What's your name, girl?"

She pushed his hand away, completely ignorant of his menacing tone. "I'm Bree." she looked around the dark room hopefully, expecting Sarevok to run out at any moment and tickle her. She became slightly dismayed when several moments passed and he did not appear. "Where's Sarry?" she asked the man, interrupting his whispered conversation with the woman.

He shot her an annoyed glare, then continued speaking. "What am I going to do with a little girl? She can't fight, she's not developed, she probably can't read or write...you actually expect me to pay you 50 gold for a whining little brat?"

"She'll learn, Vars."

"I need money now. I don't have the time to teach her to fight, and my customers won't pay to see a child take on a leopard or a fully trained gladiator. I'll be ridiculed!"

"So let her be a whore. Some messed up person will pay for her, believe me. Besides, all you ever get around here are drunks and people who couldn't care less about each other, so someone's bound to find a...use for her."

He considered this, watching the girl closely. Her eyes were traveling slowly around the room, as if searching for someone. Finally she looked straight at him, and her lower lip trembled. "Where's Sarry?"

Vars didn't answer, just watched her. "You're...sure she's a Bhaalspawn? If I find out you've deceived me-"

The woman laughed, setting Bree down on the floor. "Of course I'm sure. Now...about the price...?"

Vars turned, muttering curses under his breath as he looked through an ornate desk. Finally he pulled out a large gem, sparkling as its purple surface caught the light. "Here. It's worth about 50 gold. Now get out."

She took the gem and left, smiling with satisfaction. Vars looked at the girl, who was looking at the ground, apparently lost in thought. "Poggel!" he yelled, and almost instantly the greasy, ugly man was at the door.

"Yeth, mathter?"

"Take care of the kid."

Poggol drew a knife and stepped towards Bree, smiling wickedly.

"Not like that, you idiot! She's to be put with the other slaves."

Poggel picked the unresisting girl up, then looked at his master. "Er...which other thlaveth? The gladiatorth or-"

"The whores. No, wait..." Vars turned to the girl, once again lifting her chin up to look her straight in the eye. "Do you know how to fight, girl?"

Bree once again pushed his hand away, but she answered quietly. "Sarry showed me how...do you know where he is, mister?"

Vars stared at her, contemplating what to do. Finally he sighed and spoke. "Put her...you keep her for now. If you find any drunk perverts, give her to them for a while. Just make sure she isn't too damaged."

Poggol grimaced but nodded, heading out the door and to the his position at the door, where he set her down. "Thtay here, girl. If you run off, Varth will kill you, underthand?"

Bree blinked at him, not understanding at all. "Where's Sarry? Who are you?"

"Learn rethpect, girl!"

The angry yell was accompanied by a sharp blow to the side of the head, which sent her rolling against the wall. She didn't truly understand these situations, but she knew how to react; her mother had given her plenty of practice, after all. Bree curled into a ball and closed her eyes, only letting a few tears slip out. Poggel frowned at her but turned away, watching the door like his life depended on it.

Bree lay there, slightly confused as to why the blows had not continued. Fearing some trick from this ugly, smelly man, she stayed curled up, afraid to turn around until several hours later when he carried her to his tiny room, where she would sleep on the floor.

That's all for right now, I'll try and update soon...review please.