Content warning; Big chapter. I considered chopping it in two, but bleh. Effort.

It was the morning of their second day of rest and recovery, and Damion had called all members of his team into his room for a meeting. Baeloth was the last to arrive, and only did so because the archer had picked the lock on his door and collected him personally.

"Now that we're all here, we need to discuss several things. Namely, our next move." Damion closed the door behind him, and leaned back against the wood with folded arms. "It was going to be head south to kill Dynaheir as quick as possible, so that Edwin would be able to have his goal fulfilled, but with a stroke of luck we've already taken care of that. Which brings us to the long list of people still trying to kill us."

"(I see now why these half-wits require my services) Who is the most dangerous, and who can be left the latest?" Edwin folded his arms, watching otherwise impassively as Viconia glanced between them.

"Jabbuk, how much have you told the rivvil?"

"Not a whole lot. We haven't had a chance to really talk yet." The archer admitted the words somewhat sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "When it comes down to it, it's namely Montaron's group, Xzar's group and the Armored Arsehole's faction. The first two are intertwined, though I don't think the latter has much to do with them. If we kill Montaron's group, there's a chance still that killing the half-man is going to kill Xzar, which defeats the purpose."

"Alternatively, we can continue avoiding them, hope Baldur's Gate is open now that the bandits in the region have been scattered and wipe out Xzar's group, recover what we need from them and then hunt down Montaron's group." Baeloth yawned widely as he stretched and sat on the edge of the bed only to flop over and stretch out. "To which, I have to ask, what -was- their name?"

"Well... We basically need to wipe out this branch of the Zhentarim. Either that, or sneak in, steal what we need, and leave them none the wiser. As the person who steps the quietest out of all of us, I'd need a distraction and the layout of the building, including parts Xzar doesn't know about, which would mean kidnapping one of them and torturing the information out of them or a lot of luck on the first try." The archer looked to Edwin, and tilted his head slightly. "Any ideas? We're looking for the rest of Xzar's blood that they have."

"Attacking a Zhentarim base in the middle of the city is idiotic at best, suicidal at worst. (It is a wonder these simians survived this long, if they think that is a good idea...!) Your best bet would be to utilize stealth, and as you have at least one competent mage who can pull off an invisibility spell you have a ghost of a chance. Something as important a reagent as the blood of someone they are actively tracking and watching would be heavily guarded if not in use, very likely behind a myriad of magical defenses specifically designed to foil mages and thwart thieves."

"Yes, we have at least one competent caster." Baeloth sneered from the bed, glaring at the Thavian. "It -certainly- isn't you. Damion, -why- do we need this insipid-"

"Baeloth, you're both key players in every version of the plans we're working on. Edwin is necessary because he can walk around without raising suspicion in Montaron's group to gather information and because of his prowess with magic, and you're one of our frontline powerhouses when it comes to wading into battle with another caster." Damion raised a hand, about to continue but pausing and blinking as Xzar rose from where he had been sitting with his back to a wall.

"If we bicker like children and end up fighting, you die. Not because we would kill you, but because there are no entrances to the Underdark for a thousand miles. You're very smart. Are you really willing to jeopardize your ability to go home just because a human says he's the better caster? Or are you going to take every opportunity to outdo him and prove yourself superior." The necromancer gestured towards Edwin with a flourish. "And you! Thavian, This one trusts that you will uphold your part of your bargain, as we have upheld ours. There is nothing stating that you cannot defend yourself, and you are also very smart. You won't start anything but you will be very careful to ensure that it is finished."

Edwin smirked, bowing slightly before freezing and sneering as Damion chimed in.

"Yeah, even if the Thavian -is- an arsehole, we need him." The archer smiled slightly as the sorcerer snorted and looked back towards the ceiling, somewhat mollified. "I'm going to go out on a limb here and make a prediction that neither of you are going to get along too well with the other, but you're both part of this group. Bicker and insult each other at a minimum, try and be civil, and no attacking each other. I'm looking at you, Baeloth. "

"Yes, yes, whatever you say, oh great and powerful one." The sorcerer waved a hand, sniffing indifferently.

"Besides, you've been here longer. That means you know more about what's going on than he does. That means I trust you with things more than I trust him with them. Edwin has to prove that Thavians can rival the power of the Drow of the Underdark, and that the rumors of the Red Wizards are founded in truth." Damion turned a sheepish smile towards Edwin, patting the air slightly. "I look forward to seeing you prove the rumors true, of course. I'm counting on you to be every inch as good as they say Thavians are but you have to understand that's all I have to go on, having seen you cast nothing bigger than a few burning hands at some spiders on the way back through the Cloakwood."

"It is understandable." The words came out stiffly, as Edwin fought to reconcile his arrogance with the facts woven before him. "All you have seen are the smallest and most insignificant of my spells, and those were used to the utmost of tactical proficiency. (Besides, why would anyone use a hammer when a chisel is all that is needed?)"

"The right tool for the right job." Damion nodded amiably, before looking to the others. "But we've gotten off topic. I'd rather we kept sneaking around and avoiding Montaron until we get to Baldur's gate and steal what we need from the Zhentarim. I agree with Edwin that it'd be almost suicidal to siege the place in the middle of the city, but we might need a distraction of some kind. Once we get there, we can go over the plan in more depth, but I think for now we need to focus on getting there without tipping Montaron off that it's what we're doing."

"Which is why we crept south, correct Jabbuk?" Viconia leaned against the dresser, smirking and enjoying the show. "To ensure that the half-man did not realize our location and to buy time to fulfill what the red rivvil wanted, ensure his services as an ally, then try to determine if killing the half-man would still end the necromancer?"

"Well... Yeah. It's not a matter of -if- we can take his group. We absolutely could turn them to ash. It's a question of do we -want- to end up hauling around a ball and chain in the form of a halfling that's going to try and break free and kill us in our sleep, which would be nothing but a hassle." The archer rubbed the back of his head sheepishly once more, looking away. "Killing Xzar is not an option I want even on the table for discussion. Any questions?"

A glance around the room had none forthcoming, and Damion nodded.

"Alright. I have to run and get something, so... Try not to kill each other while I'm gone, please."

Edwin had retreated to his rooms immediately after the archer had left, leaving both drow and the necromancer behind.

"I revile the red robed rivvil. Can we remove him?"

"Baeloth, you heard the Jabbuk. He is necessary, for now." Viconia stretched idly, snickering. "Of all of us, he has the best chance at gathering information, though it would not hurt to have a plan in case he does turn on us."

"I don't see why we need him. The Jabbuk can walk around just -fine-."

"Damion is sticking to alleys and constantly hiding." Xzar's voice was quiet, and he had moved back to the carpet and settled into a kneeling position. "He is wanted more actively than any of us, more specifically than any of us, because of his heritage. Something you both should understand well. His enemies know what he looks like."

"What he looks like with long hair, Xzar. He's cut it off." The sorcerer pouted, flopping back onto the bed and sprawling out.

"That is not good enough. What are we to do about the red rivvil if he turns on us?" The cleric frowned, eyes narrowing as she contemplated their options. "He is only a human."

"This one won't help you unless Damion says so. He wants us to 'get along'." Xzar settled his hands on the carpet, and bowed in a seemingly random direction. "... If he betrays Damion, this one will eat him."

"Figures-"

"If he betrays you, Damion will punish him." Xzar cut across the sorcerers words as he pushed himself back up, staring blankly at the wall. "You have watched him grow. Let him blindside the Thavian. Play by the rules, they don't bind -that- tightly. All told, we have it pretty good. You get soft beds. You got two women to feed you grapes last night. We know. Damion said he sent them to you. They were -expensive-."

Baeloth paused, before grinning. "This is very true. He's been good to me, minus a few bumps in the road. I'll see how this plays out."

"This does not mean that we should not have a plan."

"No, it does not." The necromancer agreed, looking towards Baeloth. "Watch each others backs. This one lacks the ego required to goad the Thavian without excessive work. Annoy, likely, but we are mostly harmless, yes? Compete with him. Learn what he can do. If he proves unfaithful, we will know what he is capable of and be able to act accordingly, but do not let him expect it."

Damion expected the Jovial Juggler to have burned down by the time he returned, carrying a bundle under his arm. He was delightedly surprised to find out that it hadn't been, when he slipped back into the building and made his way upstairs. He was doubly surprised to find Xzar once more kneeling on the rug in their room as if in prayer. He closed the door behind him and frowned.

"... Xzar?"

"Attentive." The necromancer pushed himself back up, settling his hands on his knees and blinking up at the archer.

"Are... Are you going to be like that every time I come back?"

The necromancers eyes partially closed, and he hummed out an amused tone, pursing his lips. "Do you like it when I do~?"

"Xzar!"

"You seemed so -serious-!" The caster put his hands, up, snickering and patting the air. "The opportunity was there, and I couldn't just let it slip by."

"Right, comedy being the twin of tragedy." Somewhat red in the face, Damion held out the bundle. "I got you a new dress, if you're going to be like that."

"You shouldn't have." Accepting the package, Xzar pushed himself up and pulling the string free of the brown paper. Emerald green robes trimmed in an acidic green tone tumbled out, thick plush. "What are...?"

"They were Davaeorns. I had them washed, repaired and dyed in colours I thought you might like."

"Speaking of corpses, I finished reading the letters we gathered from what was left of his corpse. He was working for a man named Rieltar, of the Iron Throne, who has framed a series of members of the Zhentarim to shift suspicions of slavery and the iron crisis away from themselves. We might be able to use this." The necromancer spread the robes out across the chair in the room, stroking his fingers along the fabric. "This is..."

"A robe of the evil archmagi, yeah. You can still fit your scarf around it, too. Three pigs in an iron house makes sense now, but I wonder who the other two are. How likely do you think they are to trade whatever they have left of you for taking down the Iron Throne?" Damion fished out his spellbook before moving to sit down on the bed. "Would they let you go then?"

"Plausibly. Reputation is particularly important. Such was partially why the half-man was sent to monitor me, so that I didn't do anything to stain their reputation. For a mercenary company, having others trust your name is important, and being framed was the reason we were looking into the iron crisis." Xzar stated to shed his robes, dumping them into a pile before starting to don the new set that the archer had given him. It took a few moments, as there were more sashes and layers and it was all in all a little more involved. "... This cloak is a nice touch."

"I made sure that it was weatherproofed. My priest can't go about getting sick because of the weather, now can he." leaning back against the headboard, Damion drew his knees up to rest the book against them and frown down at the characters and letters of the first spell he was trying to make sense of. "... I know you can't say much about it, so I'm just going to talk to myself for a few moments."

"Mmh?"

"Xzar and Montaron were supposed to kill me. The Armored Arsehole probably told them to find anyone who might have survived the attack, but didn't expect there to be three people in my group, and so it was... Sort of useless to hide that there was a bounty on me." The archer frowned. "No, that's not quite right. Montaron didn't really know, did he. Not until much later. So this only reinforces the theory that the Armored Arsehole is a Bhaalspawn. I've almost been told as much, haven't I."

Xzar silently made minute adjustments to the robes, eyeing himself in the mirror nearby.

"But with Ira, killing me wasn't really an option. She slept four hours a night, less than either of yo-them, could hear Montaron when he snuck around which meant that he couldn't be reliably used to kill me. So all that was left was for Xzar to bide his time, whereupon he realized that I'm a Bhaalspawn and-"

"I thought I was hallucinating, you know." The necromancer mused almost to himself, shifting and adjusting the angle of the cloak. "I'd just found one. What were the odds that I'd find another?"

"Really? Well, you were crazy." Damion glanced over, before smiling slightly. "So, in finding out that the Iron Throne framed the Zhentarim, would Xzar be freed from his contractual obligation to kill me?"

"If it was a contractual obligation, yes."

"But it's not, is it. It's a matter of faith."

Xzar frowned at himself in the mirror, and pulled his hood low.

"What do I have to do to make you believe in me so unshakably that the Armored Arsehole won't have a hold over you?"

A mildly amused sound eased out of the necromancer, who turned with an almost comical expression of bemusement. "How do you make people have faith in you? How do you make them believe in you? You give them undeniable evidence that you are their true god. You expose their doubts and you resolve them."

"And what are your doubts, then?" Damion closed his spellbook, before gesturing towards him. "You've heard me, you said. You're compelled when I declare an order, but I consider that a holdover from your faith in Bhaal. You're fanatical in your devotion to him."

"Faith isn't so easy a thing. Easier to describe love." The necromancer flicked his fingers at his reflection before reaching for his green and purple scarf to start wrapping it about his shoulders. "You don't have much in your chosen god. It's something that simply happens, and miracles only reinforce this thing."

"I didn't ask that. I asked what your doubts were."

"... So you did." Xzar turned to survey the archer on the bed, lips pursing into a thin line. "I doubt in your longevity. I doubt in your ability to lead. I doubt that your Bhaal-blessed powers will progress much farther than they have, which is the ability to use a few small spells. I doubt in your ability to keep Baeloth and Edwin from murdering each other. I doubt in your chances with Viconia. Yes, I've seen how you look at her, and how you ran after her only proved without a doubt that this thing has been on your mind. I doubt you will have the ability to kill the Armored Arsehole. I doubt that you will be able to convince the Zhentarim to give me to you in exchange for taking down the Iron Throne. I doubt that your house of cards will continue to stand for much longer. Ira bore the brunt of it upon her shoulders, and her bulk sheltered you from the worst of the wind. Without her, you are nearly nothing. You don't have the cruelty required, and forcing yourself will only make you seem flimsy."

"... I agree with you on Viconia, but I don't on the rest. I have the cruelty required." Damion was rapidly turning red in the face, eyes narrowing as Xzar threw his hands up in a grand gesture meant to encompass the town.

"You do not. You couldn't pick someone up off the street and torture them if your life depended on it. You. Would. Balk." Dropping his arms and jabbing his fingers towards the archer, he almost didn't catch the subtle change in the air until it was too late, but by then he had too much momentum. "You are a Child of Murder dependent on the aftereffects of someone much meaner to keep a group of decidedly chaotically evil individuals plus one lawfully evil individual who doesn't have that pre-Cloakwood acclimatization. You hope that diplomacy can keep everything together. Don't ask if you aren't ready for the answer."

Damion had left quickly after that. He could feel his pulse pounding through his head, and had decided to take a walk to try and calm himself down. His path wandered for a while, before he found himself in front of the Red Sheaf.

I doubt your house of cards will continue to stand for much longer.

The archer grunted, before shaking his head and stepping into the establishment, intending to get a drink and try to squash his temper down. Two steps in, and a dwarf was hailing him.

"You're at the end of your rope, I'll wager."

His head came up, and he blinked as an axe was drawn.

"Not that it's anything personal, but your time on this mud ball has just come to an end."

Several things flit through the archers mind in that instant as the world around him paused. First and foremost was that he had foolishly left his bow and shortsword back at the Juggler. Second was that his familiar was up his sleeve, and third was the half dozen people who were starting to rise, as if in slow motion, sucking in breaths of air to start screaming at the sight of the axe. He wasn't even wearing his armor; he was wearing what he had bought for street clothes to try and blend in. It didn't take two guesses to realize that it wasn't working.

This led to considering his other options. He could blatantly use magic and risk losing his hand with how the dwarf was already far too close for comfort, he could try and talk to him, he could...

His temper flared. Today had been going fairly well for him, until the latest talk with Xzar. Built up stress over trying to figure out how to manage both Baeloth and Edwin had only been compounded upon by the truth, that he hoped diplomacy would keep everything together, and the realization that he would have to do more than talk to try and keep everything from spiraling out of his control. And now, he was faced with this dwarf who (more likely than not) was after his head because of some stupid bounty that was the root of his problems.

The dwarf was just over five feet in height, armored in a chain shirt and bearing both a shield and a battle axe, and Damion simply did not care. He closed the distance, lashed out with a straight right and snapped his left hand down to muckle onto the handle of the axe, pulling it behind him to get clear of the blade. The dwarf grunted, caught off guard by the burst of speed provided by the archers boots, and tried to club him with the shield. It connected, but at an awkward angle as Damion abruptly backpedaled and hauled him along by the battleaxe and into the wall.

To add insult to injury, Crim had taken advantage of the first punch to slither out of Damion's sleeve and spit a stream of blinding, burning venom into the dwarfs eyes before diving into the chain shirt and starting to bite everything flesh-based it could sink its teeth into. Blinded, somewhat disoriented, the dwarf bellowed and tried to wrench free, succeeding and dropping his shield to try and fish the winged snake out of his armor. A chair was broken over his head, sending him staggering.

"YOU DARE!" The archer bellowed, reaching for the next available object (another chair) and breaking that over the dwarfs back before surging back to avoid the swipe with the axe. He briefly considered the table, but knew it would be too heavy and as such went for the candelabra on top of it instead. He threw the candles at the dwarf, before skirting around and trying to drive the tines they used to be secured to the candelabra with into the gaps in the chain armor. He hit, but he knew it wasn't deep enough, and backpedaled quickly once more to get out of range of the axe.

By then, the dwarf had finally snagged the winged snake and tore him out from under the armor. The axe was raised once more, but the third chair that Damion brought down was aimed at the weapon, and both knocked it from the dwarfs grasp and caused the weapon to become stuck in the wood. Another two bites had him letting go of that damned snake, and he stumbled back against the wall, clawing at his eyes to try and get the burning venom out of them.

He didn't have a chance, as by then Damion had dug the axe free of the chair and brought it across horizontally, stepping into the strike and putting the considerable momentum his boots of speed afforded him over short distances into the blow as well. The blade went through one of the dwarfs wrists, sending chain links flying even as it took out half of the dwarfs neck and thunked into the wall behind him.

The archer spent a few moments standing there, trying to catch his breath before glancing around the inhabitants of the common room, taking in the stillness and the silence as farmers and barkeep alike stared back. Swallowing, he shuffled over and retrieved the dwarfs coin purse, removed the bounty notice and set it carefully on the end of the bar.

"... For, uhh... For damages."

With that, he turned to the door and ran.

"Was I too hard on him, do you think?" Xzar asked his reflection, and sighed as no answer was forthcoming, only the image of an aging human from the Moonsea with black greasepaint on his face and who was starting to desperately need a shave. Briefly, he felt a tickle of what was becoming a familiar second breath and glanced towards the window, and after a moments consideration he decided it would be best if he stayed where he was.

This time, he would have faith.

Nimloth!
Xzar has an int of 17 and a wis of 16. Sure, Baeloth has a whopping int of 20 (balanced by a wis of 9) and sure, Edwin has a not shabby at all int of 18 (again, balanced by a wis of 9) but intelligence is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is knowing not to put it in a fruit salad, which speaks volumes to me about Xzar's level of experience with... Well, many things. He's probably done so many things he can tell what would be and what wouldn't be a good idea with a fair bit of ease. I translate this as Xzar having the best advice-giving skills in the group. He's not an idiot, and very world-wise. Another thing I generally go by as a rule of thumb, is that 10 is an average stat, so the Powerhouses with their big 18 and 20 in their intelligence scores are just -slightly- prone to bad ideas. Like constant bickering, where those with the higher wisdom scores (Viconia at 15, Xzar at 16) know that working in a group is the better route for survival.
To answer the question of what Xzar was looking for, really anything that might physically indicate him to be different than a standard human. Adrian from the books, for example, was seven heckin' feet tall and aged slower.
Imoen may or may not learn this thing about her brother sooner, rather than later. I want them to have a few good interactions before Sarevok, which is largely why she split from the main group.
I saved this part for last, but I'm touched that you feel honoured. You and everyone else who have reviewed have helped me grow as a writer, and I appreciate all you guys have done for me. It wouldn't be the same without you.
Questions? Comments? Concerns?
Leave a message after the tone.
-KD