Xzar almost floated back into his room in the Jovial Juggler. By the time they had made it back to the inn, he was light headed and wobbling, though when asked if he needed help back up to their room he had hurriedly shaken his head. Damion had patted him lightly on the back and mentioned ordering food for himself, to which the necromancer had nodded dumbly and headed up without him.

He slumped to the ground once he had closed the door behind him. He hadn't imagined it. He had -heard- his voice, during the spell that had been cast on him at the temple - a restoration, he theorized, to heal his fragmenting mind - and it hadn't been another hallucination. The little twinges and urges he had felt weren't a side-effect of his insanity, no they were -real-. He wasn't crazy.

Briefly, he considered his options.

Clearly, the Bhaalspawn he traveled with was insinuating that he wanted a following that included at -least- Xzar. Did that imply that he wanted to pursue a path to complete godhood? Would it even work? Was Xzar blaspheming against the memory of Bhaal by following one of his spawn, by dedicating more than his services to one? By dedicating his faith to one?

Simply because he was a spawn of Murder did not necessarily mean that he was going to become a god of the same, especially when one considered the contrast between the different sides the archer was attempting to maintain. He was trying to balance dark acts with light ones. Murdering, and saving lives. Taking them only on his own terms.

Xzar swallowed dryly, thickly, and raked his fingers back through his hair. A crossroads lie before him, and he knew whichever path he chose would end in a crisis of faith. He was one of Bhaal's chosen Deathstalkers, which meant he had a duty to kill as many of the followers of those who had murdered his Lord, but...

"Why are these things mutually exclusive? Is it not still the same source of power?" He muttered to himself and turned the words over, studying them from different angles and thinking it through. It was similar, but no, not the same and that ultimately would damn him no matter what path he chose. Was there any shame in choosing one over the other? He could at least continue to shape Damion, if he pledged his faith. The chances of Bhaal returning were slim to none, after all, and he -was- compelled to obey when it came right down to it. In the event that his Lord returned, he would be one of the chosen close ones. He would be trusted, and would be able to plunge the blade if need be.

He just needed to find the right one.

The necromancer shifted into the middle of the carpet, shifted the tangle of blankets and pillows aside, and settled down to wait.

Damion carefully balanced the tray of food with one hand as he opened the door with the other, and blinked at what he found. Xzar was kneeling prostrate on the carpet, angled towards the door, and as he stepped in and closed the door behind him the necromancer pushed himself up enough to speak quietly.

"... We must speak. Things must be said, and understood."

The archer cleared his throat slightly, before shifting to sit down on the carpet and set the tray to the side. "Yeah I... I got a little carried away, I'm sor-"

"Stop. Cease. Nyet. Halt. Desist. This is what we must speak on." Xzar slowly pushed himself up until he was kneeling, green eyes intent on Damion's dark ones. "Speak with me. Hear me. Share words with me as if they were water, and find stability. You cannot simply name me 'your' priest with such ease. But you did. You are a godling, and whether you intended to or not, you have made the beginnings of a choice."

He paused, pursing his lips and spending a moment studying the archer before exhaling slowly. "There are questions. Do you want to become a god? Do you want a following? What manner of god would you choose to be? What morals and ethics, of what peoples, of what occurrences? If you do not -wish- to be a god, what do you plan to do with the Bhaalspawn heritage that flows through your veins?"

"I don't... Know." Damion sighed slightly, resting his hands in his lap. "I thought... Maybe if I became a god I could protect the people I want to. Is it even possible? To become a god, that is?"

"Entirely. You may even have less work than most in their quest to do so. But becoming a god will not ensure the safety of those you choose." Xzar steepled his fingers together, studying his jagged nails. "Do you want to be worshiped? To be praised, to have people -your people- bow to your every whim?"

"... I don't know."

"There are many things you do not know, for all that you flirt with the concept." An accusatory finger was pointed towards the archer, the others folding into fists. "With this thing, you cannot be as a bee on a bud or a bird on a branch, but as a hammer on an anvil. You must be strong, hard, and decisive. You have been, when it came to tactics in combat. The you who had just left Candlekeep would have balked at that much death. You have grown. But not enough."

"This... Look, it's been getting stronger. Doesn't that mean I'm in the... In the 'running' so to speak already? If I want to or not, this power is something that's not going to just go away. If nothing else, I want to learn how to use it, I want to learn how it works, and I want to know-" Damion hesitated, before twining his fingers in his lap and twiddling his thumbs slightly. "No, that's..."

The necromancer held his arms out, and intoned a single word. "Speeeak."

"You're not crazy any more, Xzar."

"What does that have to do with the price of rice? Comedy is the twin of tragedy, and the two go farther hand in hand than any one alone. You are the only thing stopping yourself. Is it because you think this thing you want is unethical? I. Am. A. Necromancer. What am I going to do, judge you?" The necromancers tone had gone mild, and he quirked a brow.

"... I want to know how it effects you."

Xzar's eyes partially shuttered, and he hummed out a quietly amused tone. "... Do you -like- being powerful? Being able to command people? Leading?"

"Wh-? No! I... Not... Really. Everyone is their own person, and should have free will."

Liar.

"Liar." Xzar's lips pulled into a lazy grin. "There is also a very big difference between commanding someone, and commanding someone who has no choice. Everyone in our little group has that choice, even me, but I have seen you smile as you arch a shot over Viconia's shield. I have noted the difference between how you used to flinch when someone spoke sharply, and how now you bark out commands and expect them to unhesitatingly be obeyed. Only a fool doesn't -like- being powerful."

"But that doesn't mean I should be taking advan-"

"Is that not why we are all here? Taking advantage of each other because it's convenient? I'm here to take advantage of the fact that you intend to kill S-" The necromancer grunted as if he had been struck, before looking away. "... A common adversary. Someone who -will- kill me, make no mistake, for my failures, where you... Have not. Seem disinclined to. You don't need me, you want me with you, because I know the most about your heritage and would cringe least at anything you asked. You could find this information anywhere if you looked hard enough, but you instead found it convenient and advantageous to keep me on hand. To keep me alive. To ensure my loyalty only to you, despite knowing that should Ira's aptly named Armored Arsehole command as such, I would immediately turn around and bury a shiv between your ribs."

The archer sat there for a moment, mouth partially open and moving slightly as if he was trying to work out what to say.

"You learned your sister is missing from the main group, and used your weakness - your reluctance to assassinate for the personal gain of others - to find a way to twist the situation to your advantage to both gain you a pawn oathbound to place his services at your disposal for an indeterminate amount of time as well as a secondary pawn to actively search for your sister. Viconia and Baeloth follow you because it is convenient and they gain the advantage of both the face of a human to speak for them and safety in numbers. I may not be as smart as some of the freakish intellects you have gathered, but I am by far the most experienced." Xzar folded his arms, staring intently at Damion. "It exactly means that you must continue to take advantage. Because if you stop now, you are screwed. You have built a house of cards, and all that keeps it standing is how well you shelter it from the wind. Young as you are, you perhaps didn't realize this is what you were doing, but done it you have and do this you must."

"... Xzar-"

"If you truly meant it, if you really mean to make me -your- priest, then you have a need to know these things. Trust me with your back at your own peril."

Damion smiled slightly, reaching over and picking up the tray of food to set it on his lap and start to pick at it. "... Do you -want- to be my priest?"

"Do you -want- to be a god?" The necromancer shot the question back, eyes narrowing. "'I don't know' is not an answer."

"What would it mean?"

"People Believing in you."

Imoen frowned down at the letter as she sat in her room at the Friendly Arm Inn. It went into careful, meticulous detail of the contents of the letters found in the bandit camp while making minimal references to people only known as 'Cleric', 'Mage', 'Sorcerer', and 'Puncher'. It mentioned fighting their way through the mine, and that if they succeed they would flood it and how if they didn't, to go and rescue them. The pink thief's frown grew as she scanned the pages once more, trying to see if there was anything, any small message hidden in the letters for her.

She did, but it was near the end.

I-Still miss,
you but i,
have to break,
my promise,
I love you,
be safe - D

She swallowed dryly, before looking out the window and setting the letter down.

"Where are you, big brother...?"

"When did you start... You know."

Damion was stretched out on the carpet, one hand behind his head as the necromancer held the other, studying the flexibility of his fingers and trying to determine if there were any physical differences to what would be the norm in a human.

"Anatomically studying people?"

"Yeah. Well, mostly eating them, I guess."

Xzar let out a short laugh, before trying to pap the archer in the face with his own hand. "Would it make you feel better if I said it was only when there was nothing else to eat?"

"It wouldn't be the truth, would it." Damion frowned, glancing over and grimacing slightly at the amused look across the necromancers painted face.

"No, it would not." The words were admitted freely, and Xzar studied the way the archers elbow bent and straightened for a moment. "Ritual sacrifices. To take the strength of another into yourself, and make it your own. Offering only the best parts, and becoming the vessel for that power to ascend to my Lord. Some were less faithful, and would only offer the strength of the kill, but that was so wasteful..."

"And necromancy?"

"It was far too wasteful to leave the bodies to rot. Cheap labour, and useful minions to command who could not disobey, who had no moral or ethical quandaries. Some of the most powerful men on the Moonsea are liches, powerful and immortal undead. There are a plethora of advantages, if one can get past what the common layman would consider the immorality of it."

"Did you ever want to know what they looked like on the inside?" Damion's voice was so tiny, so quiet that the necromancer almost missed it and spent a moment peering down, searching his face and finding traces of subdued shame.

"... Well, I rather learned that part before I considered animating them, so not wholly. I already knew by that point. If you do, I'd -hardly- consider that the trait of a monster, if that's what you're thinking. Anatomically speaking it would be advantageous to know the insides of a person, either for medical or murder-based purposes. Thus is what led to my, hmm, refinement of the base knowledge I had. Shirt off."

"Are you going to stab me?"

"Not today, no."

Nimloth, Eyanid, you both have very good points regarding answering comments. I offer you a third viewpoint of 'I have two people who review with any consistency, and want them to know that I'm reading their reviews, and that their reviews are important enough to me that I want my acknowledgement and answers to their reviews as well as their reviews themselves to remain with this story, imprinted upon it'. If you don't want me to answer your review in the post-story comments, however, I highly urge you to message me directly or to say as much in your next review, because I will honour what you want.
Eyanid, a number of your questions are slated to be answered in character in the next chapter, now that Damion and Xzar have had their talk. Regarding the hidden messages, I left out everything but the hidden message. The bulk of those letters are just recapping the events, so I cut those parts out and only supplied the message for Imoen. About Polymorph Other, in AD&D (the game Baldur's Gate was originally based off) poly other turned whatever it was cast on, into whatever the caster desired if the foe failed its save, and then had to make a check to see if it utterly believed that it was the thing. Permanently. If it failed a system shock, it would instantly die because of the shock of the transformation, but it would die as that thing. Polymorph Self, however, if the wizard died they would revert back to their normal form.
Nimloth, I absolutely agree, Baeloth and Edwin sharing a room would have been a very bad idea. They share enough similarities that I'd considered it, but then I laughed because I could also see them absolutely decimating the room in a firefight where Baeloths magic resistance gave him the edge. Also, absolutely on the mark with Dynaheir, she's lawful good and has to do the thing now.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
Leave a message after the tone,
-KD