The camp was surprisingly normal, especially for one with such a dreaded reputation as this. From the word spread by gossips in the streets, drinkers in the pubs and caravans on the road, this camp was composed of brimstone and ash; fire formed rivers that surrounded it like some perverted moat. The tents were jagged and spiked, dripping with nightshade and hemlock. Those who frequented it were giants among men, monsters in human form who were as bloodthirsty as any orc or demon. Some even went so far as to say that the men and women here were not even human to begin with, but demons who had taken mortal form and were using their power to cause the problems plaguing the Sword Coast.

Greywulf, despite their precarious situation at the moment, took a brief moment to smile wryly at the sight before them. It was a nice, quiet little forest area, rather pleasant in the cool of the day, actually. The make-up of the camp was fairly laidback, each tent placed so as to give the occupant a good amount of room, but not so far as to appear anti-social. Last of course, were the inhabitants themselves; granted, the bandits still carried something of an unsavory look, but demons they were not. A good thing too... he doubted any of their party looked a fraction as imposing as they would have needed to be to blend in, were the rumors in the taverns true. Well... maybe Minsc might have been okay.

The six adventurers walked past a pair of snickering bandits who were discussing the spoils and events of their last raid, the six passerby's trying to act as nonchalantly as possible. It had taken them days of hunting and searching, along with a number of fights that were far too close for any of their comfort, but they had finally located the location of the bandit camp that was plaguing the roads of iron trade near Baldur's Gate. After a long and heated argument about how best to deal with their new information, the group had eventually agreed that secrecy was their best option; a change of clothes for disguises and some creative makeup jobs later, all the casual bandit would see walking by were six gruff, everyday brigands, taking a quick stroll through their top-secret camp. Of course, rubbing away the dirt and grime, putting their original clothes back on, one would see the six adventurers with a price on their heads so high, Greywulf had once contemplated if it might be possible to collect his own bounty.

"Your tattoo is showing, Minsc..."

A sideways whisper from Imoen got the big ranger to pull a wrapped cloth back over his head further, covering the purple color that had begun to peek out. A veritable sigh of relief echoed through the whole group; nerves were more than a little on edge at the moment. Jaheira looked like one giant bundle of clenched nerves and muscle, Khalid's presence beside her one of the few things keeping her grounded. Dynaheir did the same for Minsc, though Greywulf had yet to see the thing that could break the enigmatic Wychlarian's exterior cool.

"Greywulf... dost thou see? Over there... the tent we search for."

Minsc's witch whispered just loud enough for the others to hear as well, and without everyone turning their heads in an all too obvious manner, they all took a peek at where Dynaheir had pointed; sure enough, the tent of the camp's erstwhile leader was right across the clearing, only a hundred feet away or so. It was the largest and definitely nicest of the bunch, placed atop a wooden deck of sorts and ornamented heavily. Bags of loot and other ill-gotten spoils were scattered across the deck; surely a tempting proposition for Imoen, already trying not to let on how much she was eyeing the gold there. Jaheira didn't miss a thing; a quick elbow to the girl elicited a surprised grunt, returning the druid's glare, she met Khalid's kind but firm shake of the head and sighed, acquiescing silently.

The crept towards the tent, trying to stay as much out of sight as possible; a surprisingly difficult task, considering the amount of loot and gear piled up here and there. Greywulf thought briefly of Gorion and his mastery of magic; his father could have conjured a group invisibility spell and taken care of all of this on his own, more likely than not. He, however, was not nearly so skilled; and as good as Dynaheir was, she did not have that spell among her repertoire. Even so, it looked for once like their luck might hold. Nobody had seemed to notice them as they moved, another dozen paces and they'd be there-

A booming laugh took all of them by surprise; a deep, throaty bellow that was anything but friendly. The curtain to the opening of the tent they were heading for swung open... revealing the monster of the tavern drunk's stories. The hulking figure stepped out with two other men, towering over both of them. The ugly, scarred face was in a perpetual sneer; the deference everyone he passed by spoke to a temper that matched his facial expression. A giant, two handed sword hung at his side, his armor a mishmash of iron plates, though it looked more protective than some of the best blacksmithing he had ever seen. He descended the wooden deck off of the tent and headed toward the path lading out of the camp, muttering something back and forth to the men flanking him. Greywulf watched him with a chill; the brute was a half-ogre, though he looked quite a bit more imposing than the ones they had fought earlier. The six were mostly out of sight, but if the mammoth turned and looked, there was a good chance he might see them. Still, it looked like luck was going their way-

"Oy! Best be getting a move on quick, eh?"

The upbeat voice caught all of them by surprise; their group turned to spy a youth, scarcely out of his teens, heading towards the half-ogre. On inspection, it seemed like the whole camp was doing the same. "Oh... er, yes. Just heading over now." Greywulf grunted, trying to lower his voice.

"Yeah, don't want to be late, y'know? Y' remember what Tazok did to the last fella' who thought he 'as too good to lissen to 'im give out orders." he laughed as they all walked over to join the crowd of bandits surrounding this Tazok.

"Oh yes... I remember." Greywulf responded as they arrived, staring at the half-ogre before them. As Greywulf's eyes met Tazok's for the briefest of seconds, he decided that whatever incident this brigand was referring to... it was better that he not know the details.

X X X X X X X X

The memory of the first time the two had met flashed through Greywulf's mind as he stared up at that same face again, that same repugnant sneer as Tazok looked down on the two fallen men. Minsc's hand darted toward the hilt of the sword beside him, but Tazok merely barked a laugh, motioning to the orcs with him. Minsc tried to swing the blade from his position, but it was easy for the orcs to overpower him, his broken leg proving too much of a handicap. Once Minsc was secured, Tazok looked down at Greywulf, still pinned in place by the stalagmite through his shoulder. "You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment, Bhaalspawn. Firkraag promised me a chance at destroying you, but this... this is too perfect."

"I'm feeling all warm and fuzzy too." Greywulf spat, trying to keep the growing pain out of his voice. "You'll excuse me if I don't stand up-"

Tazok bent over and grabbed Greywulf's other arm, yanking him to his feet with the sound of tearing flesh, the wound in his shoulder ripping open even further. Tazok held him up and leaned over to his agonized face, leering at him. "But you will... stand before your betters, fool."

"Stop it! Stop it-" Aerie's cries were silenced by a swift backhand from the half-ogre, snarling as the orcs grabbed her and held her still.

"You always were such a charmer, Tazok..." Greywulf managed, though any further taunts were silenced as Tazok grabbed his wounded shoulder in one massive hand and squeezed, Aerie listening in horror at the half-elf's screams.

"You never did know when to keep your mouth shut, fool." Tazok growled, looking back at Aerie once more. "And you also never learned to keep your women in line. This one here has more sense than the mongrel you still travel with... she put up quite the struggle when we took her."

Greywulf, through his wincing, managed to get a peek at Jaheira; she was barely conscious from the looks of it; despite that, her eyes still held a fire that would have meant death for Tazok and his men were she free and armed. He looked up at Tazok's grinning face as he pushed him forward, leading the group onward down the cavern. "Come, Greywulf... my master desires to see you before I end your miserable existence."

"I might not make it to your master if I don't get... get some healing." Greywulf whispered, the blood draining out of his shoulder making the world spin as Tazok pushed him forward. "What... what would he think of that?"

Tazok's lip curled upward in a sneer... but he pulled a small vial from his belt, the contents of which looked most foul. Uncorking it he poured it on Greywulf's shoulder, the brew searing and stinging like acid, though it did seem to slow the bleeding, even close the gaping wound somewhat. "That will hold you for the few remaining minutes of your life." Tazok growled, apparently using the small healing as an excuse to push Greywulf even harder toward a staircase leading into an even lower darkness. It seemed to last forever; the width of the passage seemed enormous, enough to accommodate a hundred men across the stair as they walked.

Even as Tazok and Greywulf continued down the stair, Aerie found herself pushed alongside the similarly forced Jaheira, the druid stumbling down the rock stairway as Aerie reached out one hand to steady her. Jaheira glanced at her appreciatively, Aerie giving her a tight smile as they continued. Still, the Avariel could not help but shudder as she looked back down the way at the half-ogre, and the hatred on his face every time he pushed Greywulf onward. "Who... who is he? Why does he hate Greywulf so much?"

"Tazok was the leader of the bandit camps that Sarevok used to harass the iron supply in the crisis with Baldur's Gate." Jaheira rasped quietly, trying to avoid attracting any kind of attention from their guards. "He was also one of Sarevok's main lieutenants; he fought us alongside Sarevok in the final battle under Baldur's Gate."

Jaheira flinched just slightly as she remembered Minsc and Khalid's duel with the half-ogre, keeping both of the men of their party at bay as they fought. She shook her head slightly, turning back to Aerie. "He fled the battle as soon as Sarevok died; though he never forgot what was taken from him."

"So he wants revenge on you for killing Sarevok?"

"Partly so, no doubt..." Jaheira allowed herself a half-grimace, half smirk. "But he hates Greywulf for another reason; do you see his face? Those burns and scars weren't always there."

Aerie had no time to reply before they found themselves pushed through a giant archway, passing beyond two large stone statues of beasts that carved into the wall. Beside the arch were two more statues, this time of twin dragons, their eyes sparkling like jewels as they watched the entrance that the group passed through. They found themselves in a large cavern, no ceiling in sight, only empty space leading to an unknown location.

Flat stone stretched before them as they walked, and as they continued their silent path, something grew visible in the distance, what appeared to be a large door, rings to open it as big as a regular sized human. Before it sat a throne of pure ruby, shimmering as they approached. When they got close enough, they saw the man they had met earlier, Jierdan Firkraag, sitting upon the throne lazily, a wicked look in his eyes. Beside him was a man in mage robes, a quarterstaff of his own at the ready, waiting at Firkraag's right hand. As they neared, Firkraag began clapping slowly, very lazily and loudly. "Well done." Firkraag said with a smirk. "I had my doubts as to whether you would actually make it here, but you have exceeded my expectations. Congratulations are in order. Especially for you, old Keldorn. It has been so long since we fought, I half-expected you to be dead or retired by now. Tell me, how are the wife and kids? I trust life has treated them well?"

Keldorn's face flashed with anger for a brief second, then returned to his paladin calm, saying nothing, only squeezing his fist tighter. The orcs holding him must have sensed his contained fury; they raised their swords higher in case of some attempt on his part to make an escape. Firkraag laughed again, saying, "So, you do remember me. But like a good little paladin, you can't do the thing your heart most desires. But I am here now. Go on. Take your revenge... surely you are faster than my pathetic band of orcs here, hmm?"

"I desire justice, not revenge. And you will pay for your crimes, in this life or the next." Keldorn said, his voice straining to keep controlled.

"You're no fun at all, Keldorn." Firkraag yawned. "Perhaps a short battle would awaken that old fire within you I remember so well. Guards... release them."

Tazok glanced at Firkraag, his eyes darting back and forth for a second before drawing his own blade and walking back a few paces, then motioning for the guards to do the same after they had released the bound ones from their ropes. Aerie and Yoshimo both knelt beside Minsc, the elf murmuring spells to alleviate the pain in the ranger's leg, trying to heal the worst of the damage. Greywulf glanced at the others with definite gratitude, and then frowned as he counted heads. "Where's Garren?" he growled, turning back to Firkraag, still flanked by his orcs. "What have you done with him?"

"Hmm... so curious, aren't you." Jierdan said bemusedly, leaning back again on his throne. "Survive the next few minutes and I might tell you."

Without a word, the orcs screeched and leapt forward, taking the group by surprise. The heavily wounded party would normally have found the battle no problem, but in their current condition, Minsc almost completely incapacitated as far as fighting went, it was all they could do to hold their own, even as Tazok and the unnamed wizard stood on Firkraag's left and right, watching intently but not joining the fray. Greywulf stumbled back as an orc took another swing at him, the sorcerer weaponless and forced to dodge all the attacks headed his way. Another swing nearly took his head off; Greywulf came up with a hastily conjured spell, sending a flurry of Magic Missiles into the orcs' chest. The orc fell backward, Minsc close enough to swing his sword even from his position on the ground.

The sorcerer exhaled deeply, ignoring the sharp pains in his shoulder as he looked at the others; fighting their hearts out, but invariably losing. Too many orcs, their own bodies too weakened to continue. He did have one more spell he could use... though it would leave him with little or no magic left. Watching Keldorn nearly lose his head from an orc sword made up his mind. Greywulf inhaled deeply, drudged up the last remnants of his own magic... and channeled it through his voice, speaking a Word of Power. It echoed through the room, the magic forcing its way down upon all those nearby, sorting friend from foe; a wave billowed out, crushing the orcs and heading right towards Firkraag and his two men, Tazok and the wizard looked afraid as Firkraag sat up with interest, raising one hand and deflecting the energy heading towards them.

The dust cleared, the cavern echo finally ceased, leaving the six adventurers and the three villains before them the only ones left alive. Greywulf wavered on his feet for a few moments, and then fell backwards, only caught in time by Yoshimo, supporting him as the nearly broken wizard tried to stay up. Firkraag laughed, a terrible sound as he stood from his throne, nodding in triumph. "So you pull victory from defeat once again. I was beginning to think I had finally found a way to end you, but once more you surprise me, Greywulf. You have proven such an interesting experiment; no doubt you have earned your answers as well. Lower your weapons; you shan't need them any longer."

"If you think we'll disarm now then you're a fool." Jaheira snarled. "You deserve death for what you've done here, monster."

"Monster? Is that what you think of me?" Firkraag said in mock surprise. "Perhaps you have not seen who I truly am... perhaps we shall see what a monster truly is."

A flash of light, red shone all around, enveloping their vision as it surrounded Jierdan Firkraag, the only sound his mocking laughter as it grew deeper, darker... monstrous. Their vision cleared, and what stood before them... it was Jierdan Firkraag, as he truly had been all along.

"By the gods." Keldorn whispered, scarcely believing the sight before him.

Firkraag was no longer the tall noble, wicked looking though he had been; he was now a fearsome sight to behold. Firkraag's skin had turned from ordinary flesh to a scaly red. His eyes had abruptly changed from their human vision to thick reptilian shards of malice, and the robes he wore began shredding, becoming rags as Firkraag's body grew in size before them, till his height dwarfed theirs by more than five times. His ears grew pointed and slid back behind his head, and his mouth and nose stretched forward into a fearsome looking snout, smoke gushing from the nostrils. A long spiked tail was growing longer by the second, and two wings were now billowing out before them, long scaled things with great red and black spikes coming from the ends. With a final unearthly roar, the transformation was complete, and before them stood no human, but the most feared of the dark wyrms, the red dragon. "Ahh…" Firkraag stretched his wings long and broad, arching his long neck back as he did. "I have not been able to fully enjoy my true form for a while, waiting for your arrival as such."

"A red dragon…" Greywulf whispered, hoping his eyes were deceiving him.

"Yes. Perhaps I do not seem so foolish now, Jaheira?"

Yoshimo visibly gulped, wary of the wrath of the dragon before them. "Er, I'm sure her meaning was misunderstood, Lord Firkraag."

"Misunderstood or not, I do not take kindly to insults." Firkraag leaned his long neck down and brought those monstrous jaws close to Jaheira, a tinge of smoke wisping out of his nostrils. The tension in the cavern was unbearable, everyone sure they were about to witness the death of one of their comrades, with nothing they could do about it. Seconds passed... and without warning, Firkraag pulled back, resting on his hind legs with as much nonchalance as a mighty dragon could seem to manage. "Or not. You have been more than entertaining, all of you, and I did promise you an explanation, did I not? Why the hunt, why the deception... I hope you've found it as much fun as I."

"If you are trying to remember some event in the past where you might have committed some offense against me, it is non-existent. We two have no history; at least, between the two of us. Your father though... he was another story."

"Gorion?" Greywulf questioned, his head spinning in confusion and fear. "What does he have to do with this?"

Firkraag sighed, quite the interesting sight for such a grand beast. "Very well... an in-depth explanation. Your wizard tutor was not only a member of the Harpers when I first met him, but a member of the group that shut down some of my largest operations in Amn, back when I still had my own games and ambitions in the city. A group your Keldorn was also with as well. Of course, I'm sure Keldorn remembers what revenge I took upon him for his participation in that act."

Keldorn refused to let his emotions show this time, but merely glared heavily, refusing to respond.

"Gorion once told me of a mission he and a group of Harpers and paladins undertook." Jaheira glanced at Greywulf, her mind churning with the memory. "The paladins were withdrawn after the main group was captured, but Gorion and the Harpers continued on after the leader. They never found him, but they did encounter a rather large red dragon soon after... they wounded it, driving it off."

Firkraag smirked with his dragon smile of scorn and malice. "I still bear the scars of that meeting. Your Gorion was a powerful mage... but even he could not bring down a dragon such as I. It was a paltry thing, really; I had no true interest in the goods or servants lost in Amn... but you father nearly killed me that day."

"So this was all about revenge? For a slight my foster father did you years ago?" Greywulf rasped.

"Well… yes. Make no mistake though; I was interested in not only your father Gorion, but your… other father, as well. Don't look so surprised, Bhaalspawn. I know a great many things about you, thanks to your old friend Tazok. I also know of your search for Irenicus, though I have no interest in that creature. However, I am interested in your inevitable confrontation with him. That will indeed be a sight, I am sure."

"What do you know of that fiend? Are you in league with him?" Greywulf growled, the mention of the hated wizard giving him a burst of rage driven energy. "Speak!"

"You are bold, to presume that I should have to do anything you command, Greywulf." Firkraag said, sounding slightly miffed. "However, you are mistaken. I have no dealings with him, nor would I desire to. I am content to watch your duel with him. As for my other reasons for starting this particular challenge… I was getting bored. Dragons have long memories, you know. We have to do something for fun besides count our hoards in the millennia we live. And just recently, I discovered that you and your group were wandering around Amn in search of money. Seeing as Gorion is dead and beyond my revenge, I settled for the next best thing; taking it out on his ward. Every ounce of reputation you once had has been shattered, and the nobility you espouse is now at odds with you. Wherever Gorion is now, he is seething."

"And what of Garren Windspear and Mary?" Aerie asked, angry at the dragon's malice. "Why drag them into this after you've tormented them so much already?"

"Windspear and I have had been playing our little feud for so many years now, I couldn't help but use him as bait. It makes things so much more interesting. His antics prove most entertaining, harassing the orc patrols I send out for him every so often." The dragon laughed for a few seconds, then sighed. "But all good things must come to an end, I suppose. You are free to go."

"What?" Greywulf was shocked at not only the words he heard Firkraag say, but in that his own incredulous cry was echoed by Tazok at the same time, looking up at Firkraag in confusion.

"My Lord... you promised me the Bhaalspawn's head." Tazok growled, though he kept his servile tone as Firkraag glanced down at him. "Have I not served you well? I-"

"Save your complaints, Tazok." Firkraag shook his head lazily. "These men and women have been quite entertaining for me... I do not wish to see them permanently damaged. At least, until they have confronted this Irenicus. How I look forward to seeing that confrontation unfold."

Tazok's eyes blazed and for a moment it appeared he would protest again, but a warning look from Firkraag silenced him. The dragon turned back to the six adventurers and gestured toward the stairway. "There is your exit. I'm sure you can find your own way out."

Greywulf tensed, hating himself for the words he was about to say, but he spoke anyway. "We can't leave, Firkraag. Not without Garren and Mary; you know this."

Firkraag seemed to stare at them for another minute... then burst into a roar of laughter. His booming voice echoed through the chamber, his wings stretching out to nearly the full width of the cavern. Looking back down at the wary adventurers, he chuckled, "This! This is why you are so entertaining! Mere seconds away from freedom and you turn it down! Such fire, such bravado! I applaud you, Bhaalspawn, truly I do."

He turned back to a fuming Tazok and spoke, "A final game, I should think. Tazok has the keys to the prison cells Mary and Garren are held in. I shall satisfy both of your requests here... Tazok, lead them to the cells. Greywulf... when you have arrived, you and you alone, with no aid from your party... you will kill Tazok and take the key from him and free the Windspear clan. Tazok, of course will take exception to this and fight back. Tazok, I presume this arrangement is satisfactory to what I promised you?"

Tazok smiled darkly, nodding as he flexed his main hand. Firkraag turned to the party, his visage as evil as Tazok's. "Should you fail to kill Tazok and die by his hands, he will kill them both, and I will ensure your friends die as well, by either Tazok's hand or perhaps mine own. Are the rules clear?"

Greywulf watched with fury as the dragon leaned back, Tazok approaching the group. Unable to restrain his righteous indignation any longer, he turned to Firkraag and whispered, "Is this all we are to you? Pieces on a game board, free for you to manipulate for your own twisted amusement?"

Firkraag's reptilian eyes darkened and his wings stretched broad, brushing the sides of the chamber as he hissed, "Take care, Greywulf. Few speak with insolence to a dragon and retain their lives."

Greywulf felt a hand on his shoulder, turned around to see Keldorn there, shaking his head no. The mage took a deep breath and motioned for the others to follow Tazok out. Before he turned as well, he looked back at the dragon and said, "This isn't over, Firkraag. Justice is coming to you for the evil you've wrought. We'll be back in the future. You can count on it."

Firkraag was opening the large doors behind him, revealing an enormous pile of gold and diamonds, a hoard of legends. As the dragon stepped onto the bed of wealth and lay upon it for a nap, he rumbled, smoke pouring from his nostrils, "As you wish, Bhaalspawn. Do as you must. It does not interest me until the 'future' becomes 'now.' If you wish to make a confrontation inevitable, you know where I lie in wait. Now walk away, and see to your little rescue efforts. Take your time. Enjoy life. You have much to face... though your crippled comrade will stay here until you have proven yourself victorious. A simple precaution, you understand. Kill Tazok and you need worry of nothing."

Jaheira looked like she would protest, but Aerie and Yoshimo moved to Minsc's side, the Avariel beginning her healing as Yoshimo nodded to the other three. "We'll follow as soon as we can... do what you must."

"Just keep them both safe." Greywulf smiled faintly as they headed out, following the half-ogre to their final confrontation. They had just passed through the archway when another cry from Yoshimo caught his attention. He turned to look at the bounty hunter; the thief catching Greywulf's eye with a tight smile.

"Give him hell."

X X X X X X X

Greywulf tried not to show any weakness as he stood there, across the prison ward from Tazok. Jaheira had been allowed to perform some healing before their battle, bringing him to some semblance of fighting capacity... but it was not looking good. Tazok was at full strength; the look in his eyes along with the veritable waves of anger sweeping off him made it clear he was looking forward to this clash.

Jaheira and Keldorn watched with concern, the two of them glancing back and forth. In other circumstances, this would be a fairly difficult battle for the sorcerer; a lone wizard against a lone fighter of nearly equal power usually ended in the favor of the fighter. Granted, wizards of sufficient power were capable of destroying entire armies if given enough preparation and support... but this was different. The Word of Power Greywulf had used had nearly depleted his magic reserves; his body was still bruised and wounded from the numerous injuries he had sustained in the fall. Jaheira's magic was only enough to keep him on his feet for a few minutes of all-out battle; the longer the battle lasted, the greater chance the sorcerer would make a fatal mistake.

Tazok though... he was uninjured, angry, and had been awaiting this fight for some time. He drew his sword and tested its weight, his eyes never leaving Greywulf as the two stood there. The sound of footsteps drew their attention; coming up the stairway to the prison cell was the wizard Firkraag had maintained at his side. He smiled unkindly at Greywulf and sneered, "Lord Firkraag has sent me to ensure that this battle takes place according to the rules he has set. Rest assured, Lord Firkraag sees everything that I see. Any attempts on my life or from the two of you to interfere with their battle will result in the immediate execution of your friends downstairs."

Keldorn's fist tightened, but he did nothing. They had no choice but to comply; none of them were in any condition to fight a red dragon and with Aerie, Yoshimo, and Minsc still at the wyrm's mercies... Keldorn nodded to the wizard. "We will not interfere."

Jaheira did not speak, but the fury in her glare spoke to her barely contained anger, dwarfed by the powerlessness to do anything here. The wizard smirked at the sight; he turned back to Tazok and Greywulf, tossing the sorcerer his quarterstaff. "Lord Firkraag told me to give you this; use it... if you can."

Tazok's face was a feral grin as he glanced to the side cells; Mary and Garren Windspear bound and gagged inside. "Heh... I hope you and your daughter do not hold great hope in the Bhaalspawn's chances. You will see him die, and then you shall join him."

"You've underestimated me before." Greywulf growled, just self-conscious enough to realize Tazok had revealed his heritage to Garren and his daughter. No time to worry about it now, survive and escape first, damage control later. "Have you forgotten why you carry those prominent scars on your oh-so-beautiful face?"

Tazok's eyes flared with anger, but he showed surprising calm, not charging as Greywulf had expected. "The last time we met your taunts and boasts brought such fury... my lack of restraint caused me a great many wounds. Know that I will not fall for such taunts again."

"Funny..." Greywulf said, leaning on his quarterstaff for support as he tried to center himself for the need at hand. "I didn't think a half-ogre could learn anything, other than better ways to repulse women."

"You still think so much of yourself, Bhaalspawn. But Sarevok was nothing compared to my new master; Firkraag has given me the pleasure of killing you... and know that your death will be the death of everyone you love!!" Tazok roared, charging straight for the half-elf.

The blade came down in a forceful swing, intended to cut him open from shoulder to hip. A quick duck backwards put him out of danger, Greywulf raising one palm to spit a burst of Magic Missiles at the half-ogre. They peppered his chest plate, mini-explosions that Tazok ignored, instead sweeping his blade towards Greywulf, a horizontal cut this time. Once more Greywulf moved back, this time seeing a follow-up attack designed to kill him if he attempted to stay in his position as he had done the first time. Greywulf chose to bring his quarterstaff up to block, the magical wood holding up under the forceful attack of the sword. Greywulf pushed one hand out on Tazok's nearby chest plate, unleashing a torrent of magic through his hand, willing the flame and the lightning to surge through his hand and into the armor, to seep through and immolate the half-ogre underneath...

Tazok laughed nastily, Greywulf looking up at his face in shock. Several runes inscribed on the armor in different locations were glowing, drawing the spells to them and dissipating the magic harmlessly. Greywulf had half a second to comprehend the danger before Tazok's free hand slammed into Greywulf's shoulder, sending him to the ground in terrible pain.

Keldorn watched the battle unfold with concern; Tazok was well prepared for the battle, that much was clear. His past experience with the sorcerer had made him well aware of Greywulf's capabilities and his augmented armor reflected it. The paladin winced as he saw the blow land on Greywulf's shoulder; his opponent was exploiting his weaknesses with impunity. Greywulf couldn't let the battle continue in such a manner; he could see how much Tazok wanted to release his full fury, to let himself go into a berserker rage against the sorcerer. Still, he was restraining it, preferring to use his brain instead, to fight with cunning and calculation. So far, it was working well; Greywulf had yet to even hurt the brute. He had to change the tempo, bring something new to the battle and quickly, or it would be over in seconds.

As if hearing Keldorn's words, Greywulf brought the quarterstaff he carried around as he lay on the floor, blocking the downswing towards his chest. He dropped one hand and let that end of the staff hit the floor, the sword sliding down that end and into the ground. With his free hand, Greywulf reached up and grabbed Tazok's wrist as the half-ogre raised his arms for another attack; the momentum pulled Greywulf up as well, the sorcerer quickly whipping the staff around towards Tazok's head before he could react. It was a solid impact and might have killed a human, maybe even knocked Tazok out were Greywulf fighting at full strength. The only lasting effect on Tazok here was a ringing in the monster's ears, and a flash of anger spreading over his features.

Despite the wrath coming from Tazok, Keldorn mentally pushed Greywulf on. Good. Keep fighting; hurt him, if only a little. Get him angry enough to make a mistake.

Tazok brought his mammoth blade around in an attempt to literally disarm Greywulf, heading for his wrists. The attack was well thought out; pulling back would leave his chest exposed, and it was too awkward a movement to block well. Greywulf was only left with the option of dodging aside again, right into Tazok's waiting charge. His shoulder slammed right into Greywulf's chest, knocking the wind out of him as he stumbled back again, trying to keep his guard up. It wasn't a crippling attack in the least; none of Tazok's blows so far had been. But the exertion of carrying the battle on his own, without support from his friends against an opponent so driven and so powerful was beginning to wear on him. His muscles were aching, his legs buckling at inopportune moments. One of these times it would cost him his life; the battle had to end soon, regardless.

Another swing came, this time towards his legs, Greywulf commanding the burning muscles in his legs to jump... just high enough. The blade came within inches of shortening him by a foot, but the height gained by his jump gave him excellent position to bring his quarterstaff down again, aiming for the crown of Tazok's skull. The half-ogre saw the attack coming and tried to dodge; he was only partially successful. The staff made a glancing blow off Tazok's face and clanked against his left shoulder pauldron instead. Greywulf pulled the staff as hard as he could; the weapon slammed into the side of his neck, eliciting a growl of anger and surprise from Tazok as he stumbled backwards.

Keldorn's eyes lit up as he saw the half-ogre backpedal, raising his own blade to block a sudden flurry of staff strikes coming from the somehow reenergized sorcerer. Keep him on the defensive; don't let him be the aggressor again. Vary your swings; don't let up.

It was a moment where both Jaheira and Keldorn held their breath; it seemed Greywulf had finally found his second wind and was keeping the half-ogre off balance with quick strikes from his staff, each one coming close enough to Tazok's head for him to be forced to block. Greywulf spun with a double attack, both sides of his staff alternating in a spilt second, Tazok unsure of which to block; it was all the time Greywulf needed to conjure another spell. No longer a direct attack; a wave of magic pushed out, sweeping everything in front of him back with a great force. Tables and crates all flew away into the wall behind Tazok, and for a moment, it appeared Tazok would go flying as well... but with great effort, the half-ogre leaned down and braced himself, taking small but steady steps through the wave towards Greywulf. The spell finished; Tazok stood there, exhaling in triumph as Greywulf felt a surge of defeat flow through him. It was a gambit, letting up his staff attacks to try a magical assault... and it had failed.

Suddenly it was reversed, constant sword strikes coming down at Greywulf, blocking what he could and dodging those he couldn't. He could feel his strength waning to the point of utter exhaustion as he went, his magic nearly spent as well. Another swing cut into his arm, the jolt making his hands spasm, the quarterstaff falling away. Greywulf held his arm as Tazok positioned himself between the wizard and his weapon, Greywulf desperately looking for an escape. His friends were unable to do a thing; a red fire burned in the eyes of Firkraag's wizard, the dragon undoubtedly seeing through his eyes. Any movement on their part would spell death for Minsc and the others; he was alone in this. He focused on Tazok again... one last attack.

He waited for the next of Tazok's swings, this time moving forward instead of back. He dodged underneath it and slid behind the half-ogre, kicking out with both feet into the backs of Tazok's knees. His legs collapsed with the sudden impact, Greywulf leaping onto his back from behind. His hands clutched the sides of Tazok's head, pulsing with magic as he cried his incantations, pushing as much magic as he could summon into the spell. The half-ogre shrieked with pain as the waves of raw energy pulsed into him, responding as he dropped his own blade and pulled his arms up behind him, grabbing Greywulf by the cloak and yanking him off and throwing him across the room. Greywulf's reflexes were not up to the task of landing softly; he slammed into the concrete wall across the room at full speed, bouncing off the wall with a painful thud. The world was hazy as he attempted to make it to his feet, only halfway there before he saw Tazok bearing down with his sword again, his head bloodied and bruised. The look on his face was no longer one of smug assuredness or calculated attack; Tazok was in a full berserker rage, having abandoned all subtlety or planning. His swing was intended to take Greywulf's head off; Greywulf rolled to the side in an attempt to reclaim his weapon, but he felt a firm grip close around his ankle, swinging him into a pile of crates on the other side of the room.

"Where is your wit now? Why do you not insultingly jest anymore?!" Tazok bellowed, striding towards the downed sorcerer, lying amidst the splintered wood and destroyed equipment that had been inside. He stopped there, as he raised his sword, a bloodthirsty gleam in his eyes as he saw victory at hand. "Prepare to meet your father!!"

Greywulf saw the end coming; his body finally too worn and exhausted to move. His mind was screaming the mental commands to move, but it wasn't coming. Tazok laughed madly as he saw the half-elf defenseless, the blade was raised high over his head, ready to come down execution style. Greywulf closed his eyes, grieving for those he had failed, those who would see him die and then join him- the feel of something beside him amidst the shattered crates brought his mind to full alert; his hand found the hilt in a split second and clutched it tightly as Tazok swung down.

It was over in a moment; the two opponents were frozen, motionless as gasps of shock and surprise echoed through the chamber. Tazok was bent over, his sword inches away from Greywulf's head. A look of shock and disbelief was on the half-ogre's face as he looked down at his own chest; a halberd's spike was stuck through his chest, Greywulf clutching the wooden handle. Most of the handle had been broken off when the crate was destroyed, but what remained was enough for the sorcerer to grasp and thrust forward, still holding it through Tazok's chest with a look of frenzied exhaustion on his face. Finally, after seconds of silence, Greywulf let go, falling backward into the broken crates again, Tazok stumbling backwards. The sword he held dropped from his grasp as he pulled the bloody halberd from his chest, shaking as he looked at it. Blood began dripping from the puncture in his armor; Tazok shot Greywulf one final look of hatred, tried to say something, but his voice was gone. The half-ogre collapsed, finally dead.

Greywulf craned his neck up enough to see for himself the death of his old enemy... then collapsed into blissful unconsciousness as Keldorn and Jaheira darted to his side.