"People never crumble in a day"

Eight Years Before Present Day.

The sound of the rain and the wind rattling against windowpanes and walls of the houses in town echoed through the back alleys and the streets, creating a raucous clamor; like the clattering of undead bones or the wail of a banshee, it was enough to chill those who listened to its unpleasant tones. The rains came faster and fiercer these days, storm clouds thundering overhead both day and night... fitting, for as the threat of war grew ever nearer, hope dwindled and left only darkness in its wake.

Still, the threat of torrential downpour was not enough to drive everyone into their homes; those whose business was less than legal took the opportunity to ply their trade with ease, meeting openly if they thought they could get away with it. The presence of the Flaming Fist in Beregost was minimal, their presence required in Nashkel and Baldur's Gate, for the most part. Still, for the man who waited patiently in the back alleys of the town, cloaked and hooded in hopes of keeping himself safe from the whipping winds, it was not the Flaming Fist that worried him. Not them at all.

The sound of a rock clattering down the cobblestone paths made him look up with narrowed eyes, hoping to see the figure of his contact coming to meet him, hopefully so he could get out of the rain and find a warm place to dry off. He was getting far too old for this kind of work. Gorion sighed, noting that nobody was forthcoming, then tugged on his hood a bit further and tried to duck underneath the overhang of one of the roofs that barely provided shelter in that alleyway. He'd been searching for the bandit encampment for weeks, and each lead had turned up as little information as the last. Still, his meeting with Khalid and Jaheira and the assassin that had struck then only reinforced his suspicions... he was being observed, and somebody didn't like the questions he was asking. Ruffling feathers... a good way to tell when one was on the right track. Also, of course, a good way to get oneself killed. No... he couldn't afford to take such risks with himself. Not while she was still in danger.

Heh... Gorion almost laughed at the thought. Rather, he would have, if the situation hadn't been so dire. Here he was, one of the best Harpers that the organization had to offer, on the trail of the greatest threat to the stability of the Sword Coast. The entire balance of the region could rest upon his shoulders and how he chose to negotiate, what he was able to uncover... and he was basing his decisions on the possible danger he might cause to Imoen. Inconceivable. Unprofessional. And yet, there was no other choice, in his mind. He could not, in good conscience, do anything that might jeopardize her safety. She meant far too much to him... and yet, she was out of his reach, for now. There was little he could do to protect her, such as it was, only keep his enemies' attention focused on himself and away from her. With any luck, they might not even know she existed... but probably not.

Another sound- this time, Gorion looked up to peer into the darkness and his vigilance was rewarded. A figure hustled down the alley, headed straight for his position. Gorion had made certain that the meeting spot between his informant and himself was far enough out of the way that nobody would stumble upon them by accident. Nobody came this far into the back alleys on a night like tonight if they didn't have purposeful business with somebody. With any luck, the man Gorion was working with would have more information about the bandit encampment. He'd been good for info the last two times Gorion had asked... he could only hope the man's word would hold up a third time.

As he drew ever closer, Gorion took a step forward, extending a hand in welcome... only to pull it back as he finally got a glimpse of the man's face. His features were dark, hidden underneath the cloak, but illuminated enough for Gorion to tell that this man was not his informant. He stepped away from the intruder, folding his arms within his robes. "Excuse me sir... it would appear I misjudged you for another. My apologies."

"Nay... I think you're the one I'm supposed to be meeting. Information about the bandit camp, aye?" the hooded man spoke, his voice rough and ragged, but not overtly hostile. He eyed Gorion with glinting brown eyes, a shady grin crossing his features. "Or do I have the wrong man?"

"No... no, I am he whom you seek." Gorion replied hesitantly. "You, however, are not the one whom I have been speaking with. Drost mentioned nothing of a middleman. Who are you?"

"Just someone who knows a good bit about your little question." the man bowed. "M'friends call me Tran, though the full name be Tranzig. M'friends also tell me you're something of a wizard. That so?"

"Perhaps." Gorion offered, though he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up as Tranzig studied him. Something wasn't quite right... Drost had never been late, or sent another to meet with Gorion in his stead. He either came himself or didn't come at all. Too dangerous, entrusting this kind of work to another. "Tell me, 'friend,' where is Drost? Surely he would not send you to meet me without a message of some kind. An explanation of his whereabouts, perhaps?"

Tranzig stared for a moment, then barked a laugh. "Heh. Would've thought the answer to that'd be easy, old man. I killed him. Jus' like I'm going to kill you."

Bright light flashed around the assassin as he activated a spell, sending a burst of flame to envelop the Harper before him. Gorion threw up his cloak in the moment before it would have consumed him completely- touching the cloak fabric, the fire faded and died, much to the surprise of Tranzig. He realized his vulnerability the moment after Gorion had stood up straight again, beginning to cast- his incantations were too slow, and a flurry of Magic Missiles knocked him off his feet, the assassin coughing violently as he attempted to get some of his wind back, or at least to numb the pain that each bullet of magic had sent running through his body.

"Now then, you'll stay down if you know what's good for you." Gorion growled, pointing at the man on the ground with an arc of lightning at the tip of his finger, flashing every time rain struck it. If not for his Cloak of Fire Protection- no time to think about it. Time for actions. For answers. "And you'll tell me everything I want to know, is that clear?"

Tranzig laughed aloud, shaking his head as Gorion frowned in confusion, keeping his hand trained on the man sitting in the dirty puddle before him. "You just don't get it, do you? You think that for all yer power, people are just going to roll over for you and give up? The only ones who'll do that are saps, and the people I work for'll make sure they don't talk. Like Drost. Poor sot squealed like a pig when I gutted him."

"Hold your tongue, brigand." Gorion said, gritting his teeth as a bolt of lighting flashed past Tranzig, scorching the stone beside him. "I will not listen to any more of your taunts or lies. Now, what do you know about the bandit camp?!"

Tranzig raised his hands, nodding meekly. "All right, all right. No need to get flashy, eh? Jus' so happens, I don't know too much about the camp. I do know about something else though. Rather... someone else."

His face abruptly changed from docile and cooperative to feral, a knowing grin crossing his features. "Know about this young girl… couldn't be much older than 20, if that. Sweet little thing. Red hair... almost pink. Cutest grin ye've ever seen-"

Gorion's eyes flashed in alarm as Tranzig spoke; he reached down and plucked him off the ground and held him by the collar of his shirt. "I warn you, Tranzig-"

"And we're warning you, old man!" Tranzig shot back, sneering in Gorion's face. "You keep on sticking your nose in our business, ye'll find that it's not just you we go after. That lil' girl of yours... heard she was seen around Nashkel a little bit ago. Be a shame if something happened to her, wouldn't it?"

Gorion looked into Tranzig's eyes, as though searching for some kind of information, some kind of answer... there was nothing. Only the cold reality of what the man said, and how true his words really were. And yet... he couldn't simply let the man go. He couldn't just stop searching for the bandit camp. This was bigger than him, bigger than Imoen. He would have to trust she could take care of herself. He had to. Of course, that didn't mean he'd just sit down and let this dog get away with what he'd just done. Gorion threw Tranzig onto the ground harshly, summoning another blast of Magic Missiles to explode against the assassin as he writhed on the ground, holding his face with one hand and his smoking chest with another. Gorion leaned down and whispered, "Nobody's touching my little girl, do you understand me?! Nobody!! Now... you still haven't told me what I need to know. That's going to change."

Behind the back alleys, covered by the torrential sounds of the rain and the wind, nobody could hear Tranzig's screams.

X X X X X X

Showers of dirt, gravel, and rock fell all around the pair as they raced down the mine shaft, zigging and zagging as arrows struck the rocks around them. Imoen gasped for breath as she hunkered down, hoping to present a smaller target to the kobold archers that pursued them, relentless in their hunt as their yips and cries echoed past them. Xan was still his pessimistic self, though he had good reason to be depressed, truth be told.

Their initial foray into the mines of Nashkel had been fairly uneventful, if a bit tricky. Bribing the mine guards to let them pass and investigate was made much simpler by the unnatural fear that the watchmen had of the dangers lurking below. Xan had warned Imoen that their expedition would prove much more deadly than she thought, but the girl was inexorable. She had refused to leave and pushed on, sometimes seeming to draw the enchanter in her wake. The first level of mine trails and paths were well lit, filled with emaciated miners and guards that were more on edge than any men she'd ever seen before. It was a good thing she wasn't claustrophobic though; the cramped spaces and dark paths were oppressive, and could easily hide things that didn't want to be found.

Another arrow struck nearby Imoen, drawing a cry of shock and fear from her. Xan turned around, fearing the worst; he quickly verified that she was uninjured, then grabbed her by the arm and pulled her onward, continuing their attempts at escape from the hell they'd wandered into. That was what had happened, after all. Talking with the miners on the first level had given them little more than half-crazed warnings and pleas for some kind of relief. Imoen had tried to hold back the fear that was rapidly overtaking her in this place... they talked of demons, coming up from the bowels of the mines and tainting the ore. She doubted Khalid and Jaheira had anticipated that demons would be on the agenda when she decided to investigate this place.

The thought of her two friends, her surrogate family... it spurred her onward, made her run faster at the hopes of escaping this wretched place and seeing them again. The path before them split left and right; Imoen bolted ahead of Xan and shouted back to him, "Left, c'mon!"

The enchanter didn't have time to argue or bemoan her choice; she yanked him with her, the two stumbling down the rapidly darkening paths as they tried desperately to put some distance between them and their pursuers. Damnable kobolds... not quite the demons that the miners had warned them of, but almost as bad. The dog-like creatures came out from nowhere, growling and hissing as they bounded over the mine paths at speeds too great for Imoen and Xan to match. Ironically, the thing that kept them from catching up completely was their need to stop when aiming their bows. Not that it was much comfort- the further they descended into the mines, searching out the true cause of the iron decay, the more of these beasts came out, attacking and striking them from all sides.

Imoen's eyes brightened as she spotted the mine elevator at the end of the pathway; she bolted forward a bit faster, willing herself to reach the cart before the kobolds could catch them. The toe of her boot caught on a particularly large rock and her eyes widened as she began an uncontrolled plummet to the ground. She impacted hard, dust clouding up around her as she tried to ignore the pain in the palms of her hands and push herself back to her feet. Behind her, the sounds of their pursuers grew louder, and she could not help but recognize the sound of bow-strings being pulled taut. Xan spun in place, saw the arrows ready to fly, and did the only thing he could manage; a burst of magic flew over Imoen's head, impacting in the midst of the kobolds. They blinked, shaking their heads as though flies or gnats were buzzing about- one of them turned, and released his arrow directly into the head of his fellow archer. The shouts and confusion from the kobolds gave Xan enough time to grab Imoen and yank her to her feet, the pair darting into the elevator and yank the lever, sending them jolting downward into darkness.

"Thanks for the save..." Imoen panted, greedily sucking in air as she looked at her cut hands, wiping off blood and dirt on her leather armor. "I thought I was a goner for a second there."

"Lucky for us that my Confusion spell worked so well... an unusual occurrence, that." Xan sighed, glancing upward as though waiting for kobolds to appear at the top of the shaft and rain arrows down upon their heads. "Nicely done, spotting this elevator. Granted, descending further into the mines will no doubt lead us into certain death, but it could be no worse than what we just escaped-"

"Yeesh, lighten up, will ya?!" Imoen scowled, cutting the elf off. "S'not like we didn't just escape with our lives AGAIN?!"

For the little time she'd traveled with Xan, his doom-and-gloom personality had done nothing but get worse, and it was beginning to wear a bit thin for the usually cheerful girl. Granted, their situation called for a bit of caution, but that was no reason to write themselves off already. If she could just get a moment to catch her breath, a bit of space to think... she could come up with a plan. She always did. It was just that they hadn't had much time to rest, not since the kobolds had surrounded them in the mine shafts above. This was the third time they'd descended through the mines, dropping them to the... fourth, fifth, level of the mines? Fighting had proven useless... far too many to kill, far too many to sneak by. Xan had exhausted much of his magics in the upper levels, and Imoen was running dangerously low on arrows.

Before Xan could rebut her words, or more likely bemoan their situation once again, the mine elevator screeched to a halt, jolting the pair as they looked at where they had landed. Rather than mining tunnels, the path from the elevator led into a well lit passage of rock and wood supports, eventually ending in an arched doorway, inlaid with roughly carved designs to give the appearance of something fine in this dismal place. Needless to say, any kind of luxury would be out of place in mines as deep as these; Xan glanced at Imoen, who nodded as the pair crept out of their vehicle of choice and slowly approached. Xan stayed back as Imoen crouched at the door, listening for any sign of movement on the other side, any breathing to give away the presence of guards... nothing. She got to work on the lock, trying to steady her trembling hands as the picks slid inside the opening, gently prying and prodding against the tumblers... there. She sighed in relief at the sound of lock springing open; glancing at Xan, he sighed in acceptance and drew his Moonblade, the bluish glow illuminating their path as he slid the door open and crept inside, Imoen close behind.

The office, for that was surely what it was meant to be, had all the appearances of one who enjoyed their luxuries... if those luxuries were a bit rougher than most. Rough wooden desks, tattered flags of orc tribes... jagged swords hung on the wall like trophies of some bestial war. A hallway at the end of the office was closed by a door that didn't quite fit on the hinges that had been built for it. Adorned on the front of the desk itself was a symbol-

"Oh no. No, no." Xan breathed, beginning to back out toward the door as his head darted this way and that, looking for the death that was sure to overtake them.

"What is it?" Imoen asked, raising her bow, barely remembering to string an arrow. "What's wrong, Xan?"

"That-" the elf shook his head in despair, pointing at the desk. "It is the symbol of Cyric. This is come kind of cult, a group of rogue worshippers perhaps-"

The sound of the door opening at the end of the office snapped both their heads to attention, as a hulking figure stepped out into the office. It was a half-orc dressed in plate mail and holding a mace, his eyes growing wide as he spotted the two companions standing opposite him. His braided hair was greasy and unkempt, and from the twitches in his posture, it seemed as though he had been waiting for them... waiting, and cowering. "You! Tazok sent you here, didn't he?"

The pair exchanged glances for a half-second; there was no time for discussion, only action. A memory of the bluff that Montaron and Xzar had pulled on the slavers on the road to Nashkel came to mind; Imoen swallowed any fear she felt and stepped up, mustering a presence and courage to her voice that she knew was nowhere to be found. "What if we are? Sounds like you know why we're here... why don't you tell us why we should leave?"

"Tazok's nothing but a power-hungry brute; he has no idea what it takes to run this place! Who's been organizing the kobolds, tainting the iron supply? Me! He sits up there on the surface and thinks he can boss me around like I'm some kind of... I'll show him!" the half-orc screeched, clutching his mace and raising it high; any hopes of resolving the situation peacefully or getting more information out of the paranoid man were quickly dashed as he started the hand motions for his divine magics. "He can send all the assassins he wants, but this place is mine! Mine!"

Xan moaned a curse as he dove for cover behind a stone pedestal that adorned one side of the door; Imoen glanced to the right, hoping to spot a similar place of cover- nothing. Just a bookshelf pushed hastily against the wall... Imoen ran to it and pushed with all her might, toppling it just in time for her to dive behind and avoid the hail of blasphemous energy, the Unholy Blight raining over the area where Imoen had stood not a second earlier. Imoen cringed at the proximity of the evil energy, trying to peek up over the top and see where the half-orc was at... her eyes grew wide as she saw him charging her, the mace he carried raised high. She yelped as she leapt from her hiding spot, the mace crunching into the wood and sending splinters flying in all directions. She tumbled to her knees, looking up in relief as Xan stood from his cover, intoning a spell to stop their opponent in his tracks. The Hold spell leapt from his hands and swept through the half-orc... the mace-wielding cleric tumbled to the ground, off-balance as his limbs ceased any and all movement.

Xan blinked once as though surprised his spell had actually worked, before grabbing Imoen's arm and pulling at her to get to the door. "We have to get out of here! Who knows how many more like him are down here-"

"What are you doing?" Imoen pulled back, shaking her head with wide eyes. "He's down! We need to at least look around, find out why he's been tainting the ore! Maybe question him or something... this is what we've been looking for, right!?"

"I suppose..." Xan muttered, glancing at the frozen half-orc. "But I have a bad feeling about this. We should leave as quickly as possible; something doesn't feel right. I'm never wrong about these things, you know..."

"Just watch him and I'll see what I can find." Imoen patted him on the shoulder as she thumbed toward the direction that the cleric had come from. "I'll be back in a bit, 'kay? Just look on the bright side- we might have just cracked this iron thing wide open, right?"

Xan only shivered as he drew his Moonblade, standing closer to the paralyzed half-orc as Imoen disappeared into the hall, the door closing gently behind her.

X X X X X X

"You had best be right about this, halfling. If I find out that we are too late- or worse, that you have wasted my time in some kind of meaningless attempt to betray me down here, your life is forfeit."

Tamoko's harsh tones made Montaron nervous despite himself; the woman emanated an aura of deadliness that he was all too familiar with in his line of work. Working for the Zhentarim brought him into contact with some rough and tumble sorts, and normally he wasn't one to be intimidated by anyone or anything; still, this woman had powerful friends, and if the addle-brained mage's tracking spell didn't work out the way he promised it would-

"Don't have to be so uptight, lass." Montaron snarled back as the torchlight that illuminated the descent into the Nashkel mines sent lines of light flashing across their faces, faster and faster as they picked up speed, riding the shaft elevator down. "The girl'll be there, all right. Just like ye paid me for. I always delivers what I promise."

"We shall see." Tamoko paused as the lift finally hit bottom, landing with a sudden screech as the gear mechanism ground to a halt. The abrupt stop made him totter for a moment, though Tamoko seemed unfazed as she drew her katana, gesturing with the weapon for the halfling to take point.

Montaron growled an acquiescence and then moved forward, his keen eyes narrowing as he spotted the half-open door ahead, a figure standing over the top of a prone body-? Tamoko saw it too, and grabbed Montaron by the scruff of his collar and yanked him out of line of sight of the door, holding her blade at guard as she listened for any sign that they'd been noticed by whomever... or whatever was inside the mining stronghold. Montaron had told her that this girl, this god-spawn was investigating their operations in the Nashkel mines, but to have made it this far... something was wrong. Tazok would have a lot to answer for-

"What are ye waiting for, woman?" Montaron hissed, keeping his voice low but still maintaining that annoyed, surly tone. Tamoko briefly considered gutting the halfling and shutting him up for good- they would save the gold they'd paid him, at the very least... no. If the assassin's information turned out to be accurate and he had led them to a Bhaalspawn, he might be good enough to find others. Every dead god-spawn was another step for her lover to make, another bit closer to the Throne and the power he so desired. "She be in there now; get her before the lass finds a way out!"

The warrior tossed a vicious look at Montaron before taking a breath, closing her eyes as she focused herself for the possibility of battle ahead- she was a veritable blur as she covered the distance between the two of them and the door in brief moments. She slammed the door open, spotting a purple robed elf with a glowing blue blade in one hand, a spell forming in the other as he fixed gazes with her. Damn- he knew she was coming. Of course the elf would have heard their descent; it was stupid of her to rush in like this. Letting herself be goaded by the halfling... it was a stupid, stupid mistake.

Only one chance to disrupt the spell- her hand dropped to a set of throwing knives hooked to her belt, flinging them at the elf without accuracy or precision, her only hope being to disrupt his concentration. One of the knives grazed his wrist- it was enough. As the magic fizzled in his hand Tamoko lunged forward, bringing the katana down in a sweep designed to cut the elf open from shoulder to hip.

Xan tried to ignore the flash of pain from the knife wound he'd just received, knowing what was coming. The woman was fast, well trained, and undoubtedly able to outmatch him in single combat. His only hope, and a slim one at that, was to either escape entirely or get help from Imoen. Both options seemed equally doomed; Xan blocked a straight cut from his opponent with the Moonblade he wielded, hoping that the girl would hear the commotions and do something- anything to help.

Mulhaley, the half-orc cleric charged with running the Nashkel mines for the Iron Throne, stirred as the Hold spell cast upon him finally dissipated. He pushed himself to his feet, shaking his head as he glanced to the right and left, looking for one of the invaders that had struck him- "You! Find the girl! Find her and kill her, or Sarevok will have your head!"

That name- Sarevok? He whirled behind him, spotting a woman facing off against the elf that had paralyzed him before. Not many would dare invoke the authority of the leader of this scheme, much less know his identity in general. She didn't explain herself, but he had no doubt that disobeying her would prove to be a fatal mistake, especially in his weakened condition. He pushed himself off the ground and onto his feet; the half-orc hefted his mace and stumbled down the hallway that Imoen had disappeared down.

Imoen swallowed as she strung an arrow to her bow, creeping back toward Xan... there was a battle taking place, and stumbling into it without any sort of warning or idea about what was going on would be a stupid mistake, especially in this kind of hostile environment. It wasn't enough that kobolds were crawling over every inch of this place, and that half-orcs were swinging maces at her head-

Mulhaley screamed a challenge as he rounded the corner of the hallway, spotting Imoen without trouble. Nowhere to hide; Imoen raised her bow and launched the arrow she'd prepared. It flew high, just over the top of his left pauldron. Imoen scrambled back, just avoiding a mace swing that would have crushed her with ease. No time to load another arrow, not enough room to maneuver beyond simple retreat... Imoen tried not to panic as she saw the anger in Mulhaley's eyes as he rushed her again-

A flash of light, and a set of dulled explosions echoed behind Mulhaley, the half-orc stopping in his tracks. Mulhaley's eyes opened wide, and he sank to his knees, slowly slumping over onto his stomach. A hole was blown out of the back of his armor, as well as a large chunk of flesh, meat, and bone. Behind the half-orc stood a grinning loon of a wizard, his tattooed face covered with the same maniacal grin that Imoen remembered so well- "Xzar!"

She ran forward, embracing the mage with relief as she looked up at him in gratitude. "What are you doin' here?! I'm thankful for the help an all, but this place is-"

"Dangerous?" Xzar cut her off, shaking his head. "Of that I have little doubt. Come, Imoen. We must escape before my less charitable counterpart finds us. Quickly, this way-"

"Aye! Ye be a bit too late, mage! Looks like the girl will be coming with me and my client, hmm?" Montaron's voice rang down the hall, the halfling stalking towards the pair with his sword drawn, a grin across his dirty features.

The sudden appearance of her old companions was more than confusing to Imoen as she turned between the squared off pair, trying to figure out just what was going on. "Um... not for nothing, but how did you both find me? And just what is going on here?!"

Xzar sighed, rolling up the sleeves of his robes as he glared at the smug halfling across from him. "To answer your first question, the answer lies on that daintiest of fingers you possess. For the other- well, Montaron did warn you about trusting other people. Too many strange folks on the roads these days..."

"There's a tidy sum on yer head, girl." Montaron sneered. "Shame about that elf back there- no need to get him involved in all this."

His words only barely sunk in as Imoen tried to register what she was hearing, the betrayal she had just felt- the condition of her only ally in this suddenly more treacherous place jumped to the forefront of her mind as she rushed down the hall, trying to barrel past Montaron. "Xan!!"

The doorway back to the main office space was suddenly filled by a glaring presence, a sword-wielding woman who looked far deadlier than either of her betrayers. "The elf will be of no use to you, I'm afraid." the woman said harshly, raising her bloodied sword to strike. "Still alive, though not for much longer, I fear. You, on the other hand, will receive no such leniency. Time to die."

Imoen backed away, glancing back and forth between Xzar and Tamoko with terror-stricken fear in her eyes. "Why- what are you doing?! Why me?!"

Tamoko looked at Imoen with what could have been construed as pity in her eyes for a moment- it passed quickly, and the sword she wielded sliced through the air, aiming to cleave Imoen in two. Imoen cringed, preparing for death- a blur leapt over her head and sent Tamoko tumbling away, sliding across the floor. The woman wiped her mouth with anger as she looked up at the slender figure crouched in front of Imoen, her pale skin and black hair gleaming in the firelight. "Why, little girl? Because you're special. Oh so special, and you don't even know it."

Xzar chuckled as he glanced down at Montaron, a scowl crossing the shorter man's face. He brandished his sword at the mage, spitting on the ground before he spoke. "Don't be gettin' so smug with yerself, eh? Yer ring-tracking spell may've found the lass, but we be the ones who found her first. Yer dark friend there might not know what she be getting into. This lady I traveled with has more skill with that blade that Drizzt Do'Urden, I'd reckon!"

His words made Xzar arch an eyebrow in surprise and interest as Tamoko pushed herself back to her feet, pointing her sword at Bodhi with a grimace and a warning. "I presume you're the ones that the thief warned me about? I'll give you one chance to back away unharmed. The girl is mine, and you won't be taking her."

Bodhi laughed, glancing behind her at Imoen, already trying to move somewhere to escape the battle about to erupt- she spun and kicked out, knocking the girl's legs out from under her. Even as Imoen fell, she lashed out with one palm, striking Imoen in the forehead and knocking her unconscious, all in one motion. She came to her feet, baring her fangs and claws at Tamoko before she could come any closer. "If you want her, you will have to come through me. I do hope you struggle- it makes it so much more sporting that way!"

Tamoko narrowed her eyes, then slashed forward. The blade came within a hair's edge of decapitating Bodhi; the vampire backflipped over Imoen's body, then vaulted forward, punching out with both hands to slam against Tamoko's breastplate. It would have knocked the woman off her feet if she hadn't spun with the incoming attack. As it was, Tamoko found herself off balance and unable to take advantage of Imoen's close proximity. Before she could maneuver to strike the unconscious girl, Bodhi had already crawled back to her feet and leapt at her again, hoping to take her past Imoen and onto the ground.

Bodhi's growl turned into a grunt of surprise as Tamoko lashed out with an elbow, nailing Bodhi square in the jaw and knocking her to the ground. She followed up with a sword strike, the blade ringing as it struck the ground beside Bodhi again and again, the vampire rolling back and forth as she attempted to avoid the swings. One kick from the vampire as she rolled was enough to throw off Tamoko's timing, and give Bodhi a chance to roll to her feet and slash out, tearing a gash in the plate armor her opponent wore. She stumbled back, avoiding a follow-up strike from Bodhi, bringing her sword down to block a second strike and shunt away a kick that would have struck her side.

A second passed as the two studied each other again- Tamoko lunged with her blade once, twice, each time narrowly avoided by the vampire taking a step back. Bodhi hissed as she looked for a place to lunge forward, an avenue of attack- a third lunge turned into a spin as Tamoko drew away, letting Bodhi come in to strike at her undefended back. It was a trap; the spin continued into a whirling slash that cut into Bodhi's stomach, sending her to one knee, gasping for air. Tamoko stood away from her fallen opponent, her sword held low and ready to strike. Bodhi forced herself to look up, blood running from her mouth; Tamoko snarled as she lunged out to decapitate Bodhi-

A fireball exploded across Tamoko's back and sent her sprawling forward with a cry of pain and shock. Montaron's curse echoed through the room as Tamoko slumped to the ground, the back of her plate mail burned and peeling as it scorched her skin. "Damn ye mage, I thought ye said we weren't taking sides!"

Before Tamoko could climb to her feet, the cold embrace of Bodhi's hands wrapped around either side of her head, the vampire standing above Tamoko's kneeling figure with a hiss of victory. Tamoko understood immediately; she dropped her sword and tried to halt the vampire's hands, but her strength was fading quickly. There was silence in the room for a moment as Tamoko tried to hold back the inevitable- a wet snap echoed all around as Tamoko's head spun around, her body slumping to the ground with a thud.

Bodhi clutched the wound on her stomach, breathing heavily as she gazed at Tamoko's corpse for a moment, and then looked back at Xzar and Montaron. "So... you would pit two employers against one another. How delightfully treacherous... I would kill you, were it not for your interference on my behalf. As it is, I do not wish to see either of you, ever again. Is that understood?"

"Yes, mistress." Xzar bowed low, elbowing Montaron to make the halfling join him, albeit begrudgingly. Bodhi strode past them and picked up Imoen's body, draping it over one shoulder as she moved back toward the office, regarding Xan's body for a moment as well. Her brother could always use more bodies for his experiments... perhaps it would not do to let the elf bleed out just yet. Besides, it was a long trip back to Athkatla. She would need some sort of nourishment on the way.