Blue: Hehe, I think Aegis might rub her sexuality in Jaheira's face in an effort to desensitize her to the idea that she sleeps with Xzar XD. Based on the reactions to the tattoo at breakfast, this strategy has been unsuccessful. No matter how intricate her relationship with him has been getting, everyone else still sees him from the outside as le crazy person who talks to organs in numerous different voices... Well Immy might be thinking slightly differently now! One of my favorite lines was Xzar noting that Imoen didn't seem to consider him a person who could have feelings or preferences like any normal human; just a force.

Writing Imoen x Montaron makes me most happy XD. I like their rough-and-tumble relationship. As for Xan and Branwen, nonsexual male/female friendships with high intimacy coefficients have always been a theme of interest for me. I appreciate gentle handling of such characters when I see other authors write them; not everything belongs in a traditional relationship mold!

Edwin being a rude snot? Edwin is totally having a romance with himself XD. Still debating how/if it would be even remotely possible for Minsc/Dynaheir to happen...


The Tattoo


Xan politely averted his eyes as Aegis pulled her tunic off. She bunched up the fabric up in front of her to cover her breasts. "Xan!" Branwen exclaimed in surprise. He looked back and then his eyes widened. The cleric and wizard shared a look of surprise and then both darted up to inspect the ranger's back.

"What?" Aegis asked, twisting to look at herself in the mirror and pulling her curls up to ensure it was fully visible. She needed to cut her hair back to a manageable length before someone took advantage of it in a fight. "What is it-?"

A beautiful, intricate sigil was wound intricately over the whole of her back, spreading out high over the backs of her shoulders and low down over the tops of her buttocks (that had been painful!) and tailbone. Swirls twisted up her sides and rolled back and forth across the spine. Based on the repetitive circular motifs, it was some kind of seal or ward, but that's where Aegis' magical acumen ended.

It was attractive, in an abstract way, spinning in black and green and filled with barely recognizable characters that might have been draconic but looked like perhaps two different languages, and which felt more like aesthetic embellishments than words. It was an elegant shape, and although it had nothing to do with nature it did seem almost tribal in appearance. This had been Xzar's work? Xzar's design? She would have never expected this from a man who painted himself like a harlequin. "What is it?" She pressed when neither cleric nor wizard immediately answered her.

"It's..." Xan said slowly. "It's heavily tailored and done in an alien wizard's hand, but the base form is still recognizable. Yes. Branwen, what language is that?"

"In the green?" she asked excitedly. "Celestial. Aegis! This is a Protection spell," she laughed. "He put a permanent Protection from Evil on you!"

Surprise butterflied through her stomach. "What!?" the ranger exclaimed, and then a smile worked its way over her face. "Well, I'll be damned. That's why it meant so much to him?" He was leaving, and the very last thing he'd chosen to do before departing was cast a Protection from Evil? Aegis blinked. "Branwen, how the hell do you know what it is? Why would it be written in Celestial?"

"That's the strangest part," Xan told her with reverent appreciation for the craftsmanship he was inspecting. Designing something similar... could he have done it? He had never been given cause. No, he realized, he could not have. He didn't have the proper background. With an equally curious cleric and plenty of time to study, perhaps together they could have wrought a work of this nature.

The elf answered Aegis thusly: "This is not a purely arcane seal. He's interwoven the arcane and divine variants of the spell; I can hardly see where one begins and the other ends, and it is heavily occluding all the other details. This... " his nails trailed over her skin, "this was very intricately and carefully made. I would need to study it much longer to fully understand it. It is exquisite work."

"But Xzar is no cleric," Branwen said thoughtfully. "Is he? How did he invoke the divine component? How did he design it? I didn't even think to wonder a'first."

"I could try and find out," Xan reasoned. "The god's name might be embedded in either language. Aegis, do you have any reason to suspect Xzar may have a religious background? Would you know the god, if so?"

Aegis lifted a brow. "Well no, he's very clearly a wizard. Spellbook and all. He-" She was glad neither elf nor Northeimer managed to see her facial expression, because the dawning realization was instantaneously overwhelming and terrifying. She spent a moment in shocked silence "If he did," she said quietly, "it was likely Bane. That was the god of the Zhentarim, before Cyric. And he didn't switch allegiance to Cyric, so... "

"Well Bane is no longer in the position to answer his faithful," Xan muttered. "But it would not make sense to hide the dual proficiency if he were currently a functional cleric. Hmm. Given our proximity to a temple he may actually have been able to-"

"-elicit the invocation with help from a divine scroll," Branwen completed the thought. "I heard stories from the Time of Troubles. A cleric of a dead god is a strange creature and impotent in most ways. But in theory their third eye is still open, and they are still tied into the divine. I have even seen a priest of a dead god let himself be used as a conduit by any divine force that had need of him. But flesh and blood magic is stranger still. Might be best not to pry. Might not be any clear answers at all."

Xan blew out a sigh and nodded. "It may be a different explanation all-together. I have heard of wizards who can ape the effects of divine spells. This is still fascinating. I would love to study it further."

Aegis nodded quietly, lifting her eyes skyward and begging Oghma to forgive her for concealing what she knew while the information was still raw and strange and dangerous and frightening. There was a substantial possibility a divine spell cut into her own skin functioned because she was the daughter of a god, wasn't there? "I think that's enough study for now," she said. "I'm not really all that curious about spellery and to be honest I think Xzar was a little sensitive about other wizards looking at his work. It's safe, right?"

"Well. It is a Protection spell one way or another," Xan agreed, realizing perhaps it was best to respect Xzar's privacy given the man's madness and relative friendliness. Aegis grunted, lowering her tunic. "And clearly no curse or reversal of a Protection at that," the elf added. "I am satisfied it is benevolent, and I will tell the others such. We will leave out mentioning the divine component?" He looked to Branwen, who nodded in agreement.

"Would just confuse Mrs. Poopy Head. I'm not sure which gods or blobs of divine stuff were responsible for making that half of the spell work, but either way it's built on a Protection from Evil base. Serves the dead gods right if one of their last granted spells flies in their own faces, don't ye think?" She laughed. "It's got that cute sort of perverted irony to it; what will make it all the sweeter when I walk up to Jaheira and flat out tell her: 'He scribed a Protection on her.' That should give her something to think on it should! We called him nutters and dangerous, and he shows us all up and puts a shield on ye. Ha!"

"We shall leave you to properly dress yourself," Xan said.

"Aye, I can wear some proper support now that it's healed," the ranger muttered. "Still going to kill that necromancer for lying to Immy... No, wait. I'm exhausted. Maybe I should just sleep first..." Branwen laughed.

The wizard and cleric both took their leave, squeezing out into the hallway where their expectant party was waiting. Jaheira had expressly forbidden either of the remaining wizards from scrying. Severe and unyielding though she could be at times, there was no doubt Jaheira truly was on Aegis' side. "Well?" the druid asked.

"It's a Protection spell," Xan told her, clasping his hands in front of him.

"His favorite spell to cast on her," Branwen added smugly. "And methinks the only defensive one he knows." There was a brief silence as both neutral-aligned and unbiased parties let the news sink in. Then Branwen chuckled. "Xzar, she liked it. I think she's going to chew a hole in you for lying, but..."

Xzar seemed to perk up a bit at that. Then he clapped and hopped happily "Yes!" he cried. "Yes, yes, ha! Ha!" He whirled on Jaheira. "Ha! In your face, you harpy! Ha!" He bounced past Xan and Branwen to rejoin his lady.

Jaheira looked at both witnesses and then just nodded to them and turned away, satisfied that no harm had been done. "Well that explains why he didn't want Edwin to see the spell," Imoen thought aloud. "But why Dynaheir?"

{What the devil says I am evil and Dynaheir is not?} Edwin glared at her. Imoen blinked and thought about the question for a moment. Then she realized she didn't have an answer, or at least not one that would satisfy the conjurer.

{Well they couldn't name the spell 'Protection from Assholes,'} she told him at last.

{This is me mentally smacking you upside the head for being a naive fool. With my fully-healed dominant hand, so it hurts more.}

{Nyah nyah nyah, my name is Edwin, and I'm an anally retentive bucket of horse dung.}

{You nasty, irritating, little gnat! One day you will find yourself crushed flat by your betters. (If not enslaved to them when Thay conquers all. She could make a very nice kitchen wench, if we cut her tongue out.)}

{I'm going to go find a halfling! Have fun eating one-handed, peacock dragon, you've scared away all your helpers with your fire-breathing!}

{I will eat under my own power, and without needing help from the likes of you. (Such an impudent and flippant child! Does she think we need her?)}

She lowered her voice playfully so Dynaheir wouldn't overhear. {Aye, and will you shave to trim your beard on your own too? Dress and undress yourself? Spellcraft? How are you going to scribe your new Dimension Door spell without your dominant hand, huh? How long can your focus last to let you do helping spells all day long?}

{I will manage! (I will do better than manage!) I am a conjurer!}

{And I know utility spells aren't your strong suite! You don't even have an Unseen Servant! Hahaha!}

{YOU ARE A WHORE AND A HIDEOUS MISBEGOTTEN BASTARD DAUGHTER OF A CATOBLEPAS! Imoen! Oghma DAMN you, Imoen!}


She caught up with Montaron at the Carnival, still laughing. The halfling tossed her an oil of speed he'd lifted that morning and placed a gruff kiss on her cheek when she leaned down.

"Ye in for a game of burglary?" he asked.

"Depends on the mark!" Imoen decided.

"The lovely noble house up yonder. Poorly guarded, it is."

Imoen considered. "I think that is Mayor Ghastkill's home," she protested.

"And?"

"Aw come on Monty, we shouldn't rob the people on our side!"

"You're on our side. I'm on our side. That's the only 'our side' there is, Pink."

"Blah, you sound like Edwin. I just got done listening to him flaming about morality ten minutes ago and I don't want to hear any more depressing 'everyone is all out to get you' stuff! Come on! Let's get some lunch."

Caught between chastising her further for being a bleeding-hearted idiot and obtaining lunch, the halfling unhesitatingly selected food. Some decisions were easy. Others... Well no point thinking about that. He'd be long gone.


"I am sorry," Xzar apologized, holding himself curled up and low beneath his full height, but grinning like a maniac. The position was submissive; he was at least vaguely aware that he had done something wrong and was not reciting meaningless words because he thought she wanted to hear them. Still, he was far too happy about his gift being well-received "I only wanted it to be a surprise. I did not expect so much excitement!"

"Well you sure as hell caused a lot of excitement," Aegis chuckled. "You deceived me and Imoen. Our patron is Oghma. Do you realize that's incredibly... rude, at least?"

Xzar made a face to show what he thought about that. "Ohgma can't give you an afterlife. If you die, you return to your father. You are also no cleric. Why have any patron at all?"

Aegis winced. "Thanks for reminding me I'm not human, Xzar. That never fails to brighten my day. But there's a bit more reason to believe in a god than because they give you nice things like power and afterlives. Oghma was my father's god, and he's my god."

The necromancer stood straighter, crossing his arms over his chest. Aegis sighed, crawling onto the bed and plopping down to rest. The sigils stood out brilliantly against her back (she'd decided to eschew clothing) and he traced over them with his gaze. "Why do you follow Oghma?" he asked her. "You are not a wizard, druid, bard, cleric, or even all that interested in books."

"Hey. I like adventure stories," she told him. "I couldn't get enough of those." She rubbed her face. "Oghma's a god of wisdom. My father said Oghma led him to me, and helped him rear me all my life."

"Which he decided to do by... not telling you what you were?" Xzar observed. "You were surrounded by followers of a deity who hates deception and lies, and were reared under the largest and most dangerous ignorance of all: an ignorance of who you were."

Aegis glared up at the necromancer. "Do not insult my father. He was killed within hours of me leaving home for the first time. I'm sure he intended on telling me pretty damn soon!"

"You are twenty! You have been an adult for years. You should have been told. He wasn't protecting you anymore; he was trying to retain control over you. When you discovered the truth- when you told me about your dreams- I warned you that you should not share your heritage with anyone, even Harpers."

"I understand your paranoia about people like Dynaheir and Edwin, but Jaheira and Khalid are good friends and they loved my father."

"Who is dead and can no longer defend his actions or you."

"Oh come on, Xzar. They would never hurt me!"

"You threatened to brain Jaheira!" he exclaimed, and Aegis hesitated. "They are going to see your charm as lies and your darkness as a sign you are little more than a vessel for chaos. Even if they do not assume you are too dangerous to let live, they will try to cage you until they can unravel your divinity or use you to affect matters of the gods. Do not trust anyone."

"Xzar, they would try to help me. Like any good person or good friend would want to."

"You are the century old back up plan and last laugh of an evil god," the necromancer told her frankly. "That which frightens a man, he must find some means of controlling. I will not tell you that your father didn't care for you; but I will tell you that you were his pawn in a game he had no right to play. The Realms are about to get ugly, Aegis of Candlekeep. There are hundreds of you, and your siblings are all coming of age in tandem with one another. The armored man who slew your father may have been one. Serves the monk right for meddling, actually."

The look of rage that contorted Aegis' face was not one Xzar had seen up close and personal before, and when she lunged at him and hauled him down to the bed, he went stiff with fear and awe. He felt fingers at his neck, and digging in to his ribs. Then her grip relaxed, and she shuddered.

"Soft spot," he acknowledged in a breathy voice, trying to mask his terrified pleasure only because he knew it would upset her. "Sorry."

Aegis hissed out a hard breath of air and then slowly relaxed. "I understand why this point confuses you, but I adored my father," she muttered in his ear. "Do not say things like that again. The next time you spit on my father's name, I'm going to find a Cyrite codex and start reading it to you."

The necromancer's eyes widened to circles. He nodded, gently stroking over her cheek and hair. "Very well. Ah, tell me... Little Death... do you dream of your foster father often?"

She shook her head. "Only the once. I told you of it; he pointed me down a dark road and I think Bhaal was pointing me down an easy one."

"And for all the little power he had to gild the route he delineated, you followed the guidance of the father you loved. An interesting arrangement then, to send you on your journey and not meddle." He considered this. "I find it odd," he said softly to himself. "That a dream brought on by your heritage should feature him. That it should place him there to show you another route. Why make it obvious you a choice? Perhaps he simply had that powerful an impact on you."

"I loved my father," Aegis repeated firmly.

"Very well. Trust his judgement. Secrecy will protect you longer than having a thousand uncertain allies. If you don't believe me, then consider how much of a secret your father kept you. He hid you at Candlekeep. He told neither Jaheira nor Khalid about your heritage for twenty years. He trusted no one, and you shouldn't either. In fact, trust me least of all."

"That is the most circular thing I have ever heard. Fine. I'll not trust you about not trusting you- and about not trusting them. My patron is Oghma," she reminded him again. "Not telling Xan and Branwen the sigil on my back might be powered by my blood made me want to bite my tongue off. Xzar, they said half the sigil was divine. You are a wizard. How is that possible?"

He blinked and then smiled, unraveling a little. "They noticed? I had wondered if they would. There are always avenues open for those who are curious enough to study energy in all its forms. If healing is the art of channeling positive energy, why should it be restricted to the divine? Why not simply open the positive energy plane and dump it upon a person? Do you see?"

"You are lying to me," Aegis told him firmly, because she already know the truth even if she didn't want to think about it. "Again."

He flinched, shrinking down further than before. "What?"

Aegis shook her head, settling back down and dropping her head on her pillow, tugging the necromancer to her side. "Never mind," she sighed. "I don't want to know yet."

"Worst Oghmite ever," Xzar muttered, twisting about and crawling up to cuddle against her. "Don't you know you're not allowed to utter those words? 'I don't want to know,' might be the religion's single largest blasphemy."

"Yeah, well. You're not the only one who makes compromises to stay in this bed," Aegis sighed, closing her eyes and stroking over his back.

He kissed her. "Did you figure out the sigil worked on your divinity, or did you have some kind of help?"

She grunted. He chuckled.

"Then let us make offerings of Zhentarim Argot to appease the terrible knowledge god's wrath," he told her, and then practiced words with her until sleep claimed them.


She was in the Nashkel Inn common room, but she was dreaming. The space was cold and empty, illuminated by off-white, bluish light. The stench of death was heavy in her nostrils. A coffin lay over by one of the dining tables, and a dagger of bone was resting on the other. She recognized it. It was warm and familiar. Alone, she could admire its keen edge and elegant, twisting shape. But then she recalled its significance and looked around.

Standing across the inn from her was the assassin, Nimbul. His mouth, all that could be seen beneath his low black and green hood, was drawn in an expression of fear.

Aegis took a slow breath. "I understand," she murmured. "You were a Bhaalite assassin, and you forsook him when he died in the Time of Troubles. Is that right?"

Nimbul straightened, surprised that she was addressing him at all. Then, trembling, he nodded.

"You are dead. You are supposed to be judged and to go on to whatever fate awaits you," Aegis reasoned slowly, looking to where the open inn door was occluded with fog. "Except I can interrupt that, can't I? That's what the dagger's for. I can claim you, because you were his."

The assassin was scared of her, but he had no air within his lungs. He could not speak. He could only stand there, helpless to defy her.

"I figure he won't be very happy with you? I don't have to claim you. I can easily let you go," she reasoned lucidly. "Of course that means sending you off to to a fate that might be equally terrifying. Cyric? Devils? Are you faithless? False?"

Nimbul frowned, but he was no longer shaking so hard as he stared at her. He tilted his head to the side, and Aegis laughed.

"I don't hate you," she told him. "I pity you. Your prospects suck either way. How about this: you decide. Which fate do you want? The knife, or the door?" she gestured to each.

A darkness seemed to suddenly weight down around them, becoming more cold and menacing the longer she spoke. Surprisingly, however, it seemed the darkness was helpless to act on her. Nimbul, startled, looking from option to option. Then he looked at her and opened his mouth, but again he had no breath to speak.

"Point," Aegis suggested. "Whatever you want, I will give it. I don't hold grudges against dead people. Even ones who tried to kill me and my lover."

Nimbul stared at her for a very long moment. Then abruptly he lifted a hand, but pointed neither at the knife nor the door. He pointed directly at her. Aegis straightened up, surprised. Can I do that? she wondered. Then she strode forward, ignoring the bone dagger. It moved behind her! She felt it there as it transformed and multiplied, floating after her like a great claw of bones.

USE THE TOOLS YOU ARE GIVEN.

The demand was powerful, and Aegis ignored it with a grin. The knives were going to punish her, she realized. They were going to hurt her. But they could not- could not!- stop her.

She reached the frightened assassin and lifted an arm, placing it gently on his shoulder. His form flickered and then dissolved into a white shimmer that sunk into her skin. Then the daggers drove home into her back, impaling her five-fold through the heart.

YOU. WILL. LEARN!


Aegis awoke unrested but calm. There was a tingling sensation in her arm where her dream self had touched the assassin. She shifted slightly and then lifted up her hand to inspect the source of the feeling. A feeling within her- a rapturous and hopeful feeling far unlike the mania she felt while raging- made the sensation feel natural.

She turned her hand, clenching and unclenching the fingers. Then a soft white energy bloomed briefly in her palm, and though Aegis was no expert on magics either arcane or divine she could still recognize the feel of positive energy.

Aegis trembled, looking down at the sleeping necromancer beside her. He had been right. Gorion had been right. A death god was hooked into her soul, and she'd just produced a spurt of healing energy.

There was another means of handling her heritage than denial or submission.

She had a choice- she had always had a choice!- and Gorion must have believed in that and in her from the very start. Shifting slightly, Aegis reached over the side of the bed to grab her tunic. She pulled out a lock of silver hair and drew it close to her. This isn't about vengeance anymore. This is bigger. This is finding out how to live. This is finding out where a path might be in the darkness...

He believed there was one.

I miss you. I trust you. Always.

Aegis slipped carefully out of the bed, giving Xzar a few more hours to rest as she felt around for her clothing. She wanted to be with her friends right now; and she didn't think she'd be able to sleep. Maybe after a few hours of drunken carousing, eating, and playing knucklebones she'd be able to get back to sleep. Maybe she just needed to take the last few hours of daylight and go out and hit something.

As she entered the common room of the tavern, she gaped and then broke out laughing. So many days of rest had made the whole party restless. She'd walked in on a brawl.


She would later learn that Dynaheir and Minsc had been discussing how much flax seed oil Boo required to maintain a shiny coat color, and Jaheira and Khalid had been enjoying one romantic bottle of wine with their drinking arms entwined at the elbow and eyes only for each other, when a half-orc had entered the premises with another adventuring party. Now usually half-orcs were a much slighted people who deserved no more hatred than anyone else in the world, and the party no doubt would have been happy to let them be.

Most unfortunately for this half-orc, Xan leaped out of his chair shrieking at the sight of him. Things would have gone no farther than that had not the half-orc mistaken Xan for female and, in a state of perplexed amusement, answered this ridiculously over-the-top display with a relatively harmless cat-call.

And then a certain woman must have involved Tempus in the matter.

Minsc was bodily hauling Branwen off the entire opposite adventure party as she hissed and spit a vile tirade in Waelin. Jaheira had someone in a headlock while Khalid was squishing someone into the wall with his shield and flinching, saying 'Sorry! S-so sorry!' Montaron was sitting on the bar, laughing his head off. And this was just the glimpse she got before Imoen managed to coax Xan out from under the dining table and hurried him up to Aegis.

"They've all gone mad! Mad!" he wailed, and he seemed not to be thinking clearly at all. Aegis looked from him to Imoen, who was trying to calm him down so he could cast a Charm or Sleep spell on everyone. It wasn't working very well, but at least Xan seemed to be okay with Imoen touching him.

"You're both lucky I'm not drunk enough to join them," the ranger chuckled. "Where is Edwin?" she asked as she saw Dynaheir was sitting bored in a corner, untouchable on account of the plethora of heavy protection spells she'd cast on herself. As an invoker, most of her favorite spells would have involved seriously harming someone, which left her relatively ill-equipped for the bar fight.

"Thank Oghma he's napping!" Imoen laughed. "Or the inn would be on fire!"

"Everyone!" exclaimed Garrick, climbing up on the bar. He didn't get a single look at first, but he played his lute and the music shuddered out into the room with supernatural volume. The melody was unlike anything Aegis had heard him play casually; it was much more like a battle song. As it coursed through the air, tavern brawlers slowed and then stopped entirely, staring over at the bard with stupefied expressions on their faces.

Aegis blinked slowly, and then looking to Imoen and a suddenly much calmer-looking Xan. "What am I witnessing?" Aegis asked.

"Fascinate!" Imoen cackled, hugging Xan reassuringly. "It's called a Fascination and it can only be done with arcane-infused music! It's why some wealthy inns will pay to keep on a good bard long before they'd ever need a bouncer!"

Garrick winked at them, a big grin on his face, and then he kept playing.

"Sniff," Aegis pretended to cry, "they grow up so fast! They start off as silly, sunny flutter-birds and soon they're big, scary, mind-controlling warrior mages! We've come together so much as a party!"

Imoen kept laughing.


The hour was late, and the party in bed.

Xzar woke instantaneously when he felt Montaron's touch on his shoulder. Without a word, he slipped carefully away from Aegis' side, sat up, and slipped on his soft-soled boots. There were many reasons for even a Mooneye to favor quiet shoes over sturdy walking boots. He stood and glanced reluctantly back at what in another story- a comedy at the theater, perhaps- might have been termed his lover. Montaron walked over to the wall and grabbed the wizard's pack, hefting it up.

The wizard didn't like this; didn't like leaving her alone with rabbits on the loose, with unknown quantities of fluttering harps, or with a hungry set of siblings more suited to his own tastes than the taste he'd developed for her. Alas; but perhaps an emotional reunion and a kiss on the cheek might better conceal the sacrificial dagger (if one was needed yet). He reached out gently, thinking to touch her golden hair. Could he take some, as she had taken the dead Harper's? Then he remembered he might wake her and so retracted his fingers and turned.

Xzar selected his cloak from the wall. It wasn't his cloak, actually. Aegis had judged his cloak too old and damaged to properly keep out water any longer. She'd thrown it away and bought herself a new one. This was technically her original cloak. He smiled a little as he donned it and pulled the hood over his face. The interior lining was red, and it was better than a lock of golden hair.

Montaron came up to him and Xzar took his pack from the halfling and quickly looked around to make sure he hadn't forgotten anything. Why did he feel a sudden trepidation, a chill across his spine, a warning in his bones? Would he miss her smell so keenly? Would his regained clarity burst apart and reveal a hollow exterior the first night he could not bury himself in her? Such foolishness. The world was not nearly so romantic, and very soon he would be free and surrounded by resources and easily manipulated fools, with a renewed lucidity to make use of them.

But he wanted to say goodbye to her. Why hadn't he thought to write her a note? Ha, how quaint! There might be something from his spellbook he could leave her, but he and Montaron needed to get far advanced on the road before the Harpers knew they were gone, and with his mental handicap he could likely stare at the book for weeks before selecting the proper page.

Such foolishness. He was smitten, beguiled, seduced; he knew it, too. He was mad, but he was enough of a man to know the living flesh wrapped up in blankets halfway across the room belonged to him. For now, at least. His to touch, to taste, to explore, to mark, to enjoy. Matters of spirit and energy had to wait and be settled at another time; in the meanwhile there was only flesh, and he would regret the inability to partake.

That was not strictly true. There was something more, something he felt when smothering her name into her skin on completion. A blissful reunion with a lost darkness; a vicious monster that patiently consumed him up bone by bone, nerve by nerve, vein by vein, and then regurgitated matter renewed and fresh. Making love to Aegis was an intimate and blasphemous communion. It wounded him; it stole from him; it enslaved him; and he loved it.

He took a final look back at where his Little Death was sleeping, and saw that Montaron had rounded the bed for some reason. Perplexed, he lifted his head slightly. The halfling pulled the edge of a blanket carefully aside, and then drew out his short sword, quiet as death.

"What are you doing?" the necromancer asked outside of a whisper, green eyes going from pale and glassy to vibrant and alert.

"Collecting a bounty," the halfling responded, and he pushed an arm around the blonde woman's head to cover her mouth.