"Oh Lord of Murder, inflame my heart with vengeance, inspire my will with blood…"

As the battle raged loudly above her head, there was one person in the temple who was neither fighting nor panicking. In a secret annex leading off from a storeroom, Erowan was calmly reciting her evening prayers.

"Give unto me life (ideally other people's), forgive me the mercy that I have shown unto others."

"Your god is dead Erowan."

"I'll be with you in a moment dearie!" Erowan trilled pleasantly. "Please help yourself to a cookie, they're in the tin by the kettle."

Jaheira took in the concealed shrine. It featured several small statues of Bhaal's various twisted avatars. They were fashioned from clay and looked much less intimidating but far lumpier than the druid had imagined his manifestations to be. She suspected that the woman had sculpted them herself. There were glass pipes lining the walls, each flowing with clear water, and in the centre of the room a large mechanism of some sort.

Behind it someone had painted a mural of crimson rain falling into a lake of blood. From it rose a naked man. He cut a grim yet oddly attractive figure with black hair falling straight down behind his shoulders and a short beard. Bhaal had chiselled features and a sturdy build. The artist had not attempted to be flattering; there were scars and even a slight overhang about the middle. He looked real. Jaheira was sure that Erowan had not painted this one. The Lord of Murder glared out at her with stormy grey eyes.

"Is that what he looked like?" the druid asked momentarily distracted. Erowan opened one eye and looked up from her prayer:

"Crush beneath thine heels the skulls of the meek,

And relieve them of their testicles.

For mine is the dagger, and thine is the glory!

Forever and ever."

"Yes indeed, a fine likeness. Isn't he handsome, the Master? I never met a man so handsome," Erowan smiled, just a shade sadly. Jaheira looked back at Bhaal. He was comfortably above average in the looks department, but she thought his follower's praise a gross exaggeration.

"Erowan, we need another way out of the temple," Jaheira said urgently. "Do you know of any secret passages or hidden exits? We have to get out of here!"

"I'm not going anywhere," the cultist said with another smile and a shake of her head. Behind her, the water in one of the pipes began to turn pink. She glanced up at it. "Oh, look. Nearly time. I don't mind it like this you know, when it's in a pipe. Just that fountain that gives me the willies."

"You don't understand!" Jaheira insisted, trying to be patient. "The Dark Moon have sent a strike force to attack us. They're fighting on the bridge as we speak."

"I can hear them, I'm not deaf," the Bhaalite replied indifferently.

"They won't spare you," the druid tried to reason with her. "They've brought tar and kindling with them. They mean to torch the temple and kill everyone in it!"

"Don't be silly dear," Erowan sighed. She got up from her knees and patted Jaheira on the head like she was some impatient toddler. "This is the Master's favourite temple. He won't let them burn it down! Looks like the water is running red now. Now which order were we supposed to turn the valves? Crikey, it's been a long time since I last did this."

"Your Master is dead!" Jaheira cried in frustration. "Bhaal cannot help us! The only thing that might save us now is an escape route; do you know of one?"

"So that the Twofold monks can get away?" she asked.

"Yes!"

"Oh no, no, no, we don't want that!" Erowan said, as though Jaheira had suggested something utterly ridiculous. "It'll be their blood that's feeding the fountain. Now where was I… oh yes… the left pipe's connected to the skull shaped valve… the bone valve's connected to pump inlet #1…"

With a roar of exasperation, Jaheira stormed away to join in the fighting, leaving the cultist alone in the torchlight, performing her ritual.


"The battle is lost, heretics! Lay down your arms and throw yourselves upon the mercy of Shar!"

It certainly looked hopeless. They had been fighting on the bridge and many had died on both sides. Their blood ran through little gutters which channelled it straight into the moat running around the temple. By some enchantment, it was staining the water a far darker crimson than that much blood ought to, but nobody noticed this in the dark.

The Twofold were losing, however. Rasaad fought on unwaveringly. He was determined to reach Alorgoth, but every time he got close more of the Doombringer's followers closed ranks to bar his way.

On the other side of the bridge, Arowan made a little mousey noise. She was hearing things, the words of a hideous petition to an evil god. What made this even creepier was the light-hearted cheeriness with which the brutal words were being spoken.

"What is wrong with you rivvil? Why did you stop shooting?" Viconia demanded.

"I felt strange," Arowan replied shakily. "It's ok, I'm ok now."

"Oh goody. Delighted to hear it," the shade-drained cleric smiled sarcastically. "In that case if it's not too much trouble, perhaps you could see your way clear to fighting the sadistic enemy who have come to slaughter us. You know, since I can't?"

The ranger shook her head and resumed firing. She had given up trying to attack Alorgoth himself, for he was protected by an impassable barrier of spells, but was picking off his strike force instead. One of her targets fell with a shriek into the moat.

"What was wrong with you, by the way?" Viconia asked.

"When you pray, like to Lolth or Shar," Arowan asked, taking aim at a Dark Moon sorcerer, "Do you ever hear replies? Like a voice in your head?"

"Of course. All the time," the cleric replied. "Otherwise why bother praying at all? I hear the whispers of the Nightsinger frequently, and as for Lolth, she often turned up in person. It was keeping her away that was the trick! Why? Has the insipid voice of Ilmater been simpering to you? If he's telling you to spare our enemies, don't listen to him!"

"No," Arowan said decidedly. Whatever she had heard it wasn't Ilmater. "And do you ever hear other people's prayers?"

"Obviously not. Only the gods hear prayers," Viconia frowned. "Have you finally lost your flimsy little mind rivvil? Rivvil? Rivvil!"

Arowan's eyes widened in terror. Her bow clattered uselessly to the ground as her arm flopped by her side. The ranger's breath came out in rapid, frightened puffs in the cold night air.

"Sorry about the interruption Master. Let's start again shall we? Oh Lord of Murder, inflame my heart with vengeance, inspire my will with blood…"

"What in the hells is happening?" Arowan whimpered.

Viconia did not have time to worry about her, however, for Alorgoth had spotted her and was issuing a challenge. Rasaad redoubled his efforts to reach him, but the Dark Moon strike force cut him off. The Doombringer held up his hand for silence, and most of the fighting ceased. His followers were too afraid of him to disobey and the Twofold survivors knew that they had already lost.

"Master Alorgoth, please! Hear my words!" Viconia begged. He stalked toward her, eyes glittering with malice. Everyone was backing away from her, leaving her exposed and defenceless. "Please, I am a true and loyal servant of Shar!"

"Crush beneath thine heels the skulls of the meek…"

"Will you SHUT UP for a minute!" screamed Arowan, picking up her fallen bow and launching arrow after arrow at Alorgoth in a reckless attempt to save the Servant of all Faiths.

The Doombringer looked directly at her and whispered a prayer to Shar. At once her courage left her. Filled with an unnatural terror, the ranger turned and fled toward the temple.

She was met by Jaheira coming the other way, who caught her in vines. Yoshimo and Anomen took advantage of the temporary calm to regroup. They stood bravely between Arowan and the Dark Moon leader, but all he had cared about was getting her out of the way. It was the Servant of all Faiths whom he had come for.

With all distractions removed, Alorgoth summoned a flaming sword. It was just like the one that Viconia often conjured into existence, only his burned with an ivory flame.

"Come then, loyal servant of Shar," Alorgoth mocked her. "Let us see which of us has truly earned Shar's favour. Call forth your blade and we shall finally finish this."

It was only a case of finally for him. Until this night, Viconia had no notion that they were even enemies, but for years he had been fostering a malign resentment of the Servant of all Faiths. Had the Chosen One been a minion of Selune or Umberlee or any of Faerun's other plethora of deities, it would not have troubled him. Only, another of Shar's servants had been selected over him, and his jealousy was tangible.

"I can't," Viconia replied between gritted teeth.

"See how she has fallen from Shar's grace!" Alorgoth cried triumphantly. "The goddess has withdrawn the use of her powers!"

"Shar did not drain my powers, you did! You put a shade under my chair!"

Rasaad was still struggling to reach them. With a cunning smile, the Doombringer signalled to his followers to let the monk come. As soon as he got to within six feet of him, there was a wave of heat and a stench of rotting flesh. Viconia screamed as a demon appeared behind Rasaad, seizing him under the arms and lifting him from the ground.

"Very well Viconia," Alorgoth whispered, tossing her a dagger. "Prove your loyalty to Shar. Strike her enemy down!"

The monk writhed against the demon ineffectively. There was fear in his dark eyes like that of a bull stepping inside an abattoir. He didn't know for certain whether he was about to die but, like the bull, he had a pretty shrewd notion. Viconia loved him, he knew, but she was still a drow. She had loved her brother too, but she had fled instead of dying to save him. It was a fair bet that she would not die to spare her lover either.

"Master Alorgoth, there is no need for this, our goddess never chose me over you! The gods were protecting me long before I fled the Underdark," she implored him. "I was not chosen as the favourite from amongst the faithful. When Lolth cast me out, Shar likely appeared to me because I was already the Servant of all Faiths!"

"No need? No need to purge the enemies of Shar?" the Doombringer seethed. "You will butcher this Selunite slab of mutton or I shall do it for you. Make your choice DeVir."

Slowly and with shaking hands, Viconia picked up the dagger that he'd thrown to her. It was a spiteful, poison-tipped little number with a blackened blade. She stepped toward the demon holding Rasaad slowly, as though cherishing every second before she had to do this. He stopped struggling against the demon clutching him, determined to die with some dignity.

"Forgive me," she whispered screwing her eyes shut.

"I do Viconia," Rasaad gulped. "I love you too."

"Cretinous male! I was talking to Shar!"

Her dagger struck the unsuspecting demon between the eyes, the power of the weapon itself compensating for her drained state. The apparition's eyes crossed, and it blinked at the blade stupidly, before dissolving to whatever hell plane it had come from.

"Your actions damn you DeVir," Alorgoth jeered. "Slay them all, in the name of Shar!"

"You cannot kill me!" Viconia warned him. "The gods will not permit it!"

"Won't they?" he purred dangerously. "Do you believe that Shar will continue to champion you over me, now that you have abandoned her for a Sun Soul monk?"

"Rasaad is with the Twofold now!" Hammerhelm interjected.

"Pitiful imbecile! There is no Twofold!" said Alorgoth, shaking his head. "I made the heresy up so that those of weak faith could be exposed and purged from the Dark Moon Order. I set my trap here to ensnare the doubters and those of hollow conviction. How I hoped that the so called 'Chosen One' would be among those who fell into it. Now all that remains is to destroy you, DeVir, and take my place as the saviour of Shar's sect!"

"None of the gods will permit it!" Viconia cried defiantly.

"Shar is more powerful than all other gods combined!"

As if in reply, the ground beneath them shook and hummed. Even Alorgoth looked aghast. There was a loud clanging and a whirring of long disused machinery, and suddenly the moat erupted. Seven fountains spluttered, squirted, then blasted the blood-tainted water hundreds of feet into the air. The monks' necks craned upward as the water continued to flow. Nothing else happened and the Dark Moon monks began to chuckle.

The moonlight and the torches were enough to see by but not enough to reveal the true colour of the water. To those on the ground the fountains only looked black. Had this happened during the day and the crimson water been properly visible, they might have taken it more seriously.

"Is that the best your gods can do?" Alorgoth's roar echoed down the mountain. "A pretty water feature?"

"For mine is the dagger, and thine is the glory!

Forever and ever."

"Make it stop!" Arowan sobbed. She was gripped by an inescapable sense that something terrible was coming. Something far worse than Alorgoth.

"Amen."

It began with a loud and horrible growl from the far side of the bridge. At first they thought it must be Wilson, but the bear was still following Yoshimo. Neither Alorgoth nor Jaheira's party could see what was going on, but the Dark Moon cultists at the back of the strike force were screaming.

There was a snarl, followed by tearing noises, and pandemonium broke out on the other side of the bridge. All the monks; Sharran and heretic alike, were fleeing toward them. Something huge was crossing behind them. The ground trembled with its every step.

"What do you think you are doing? I did not give you permission to flee! Whatever this witch has summoned, you will slay it for Shar you wretches!"

Alorgoth's words fell on deaf ears. Whatever was approaching, they were even more frightened of it than they were of him. The monks fled to the temple doors, only to find Erowan calmly latching them closed. None of the petrified men and women wanted to stop running long enough to unlatch it. The majority fled behind the temple and started trying to scale the mountainside behind it. A few broke off to the left and right to try their luck swimming the moat, though the fountains made the waters turbulent and less than half made it across.

Arowan guessed what had terrified them so badly before she saw it.

A vast, fleshless wolf stepped off the bridge. Spittle hung from its bared white fangs. Its flayed head swivelled around on white and red tendons, while its exposed ribs rose and fell. Where its paws touched the earth they left flaming prints which did not go out.

The Abyssal horror threw back its head and let out a cold, guttural howl. It rang down the mountain, loud and clear as a bell, chilling the watching mortals to their core.

The skinned dog from Irenicus's dungeon. Only somehow it was even more hideous than before. Larger and burning with a hellish inner fire which was visible every time it parted its jaws. Those unblinking, lidless eyes were different too. Golden and glowing; the eyes of a god.

Only two people were able to resist the powerful aura of the wolf. Erowan, who was looking more queasily at the fountains than at the apparition itself. Also Alorgoth, who was holding his ground, though his feet kept twitching like they were about to run away without him.

The dog lowered its face very close to the Doombringer and growled. Acrid smoke from its mouth billowed over him in thick, stinking tendrils. Powerful human though Alorgoth was, he was still a human. His eyes closed, for he could not meet the gaze of the divine golden glow, and his breath came out in ragged bursts.

"It's father!" Arowan whimpered, still bound by the roots and unable to run away. "Ilmater please, no, it's Bhaal."

"That's impossible," Jaheira breathed.

Rasaad was screaming incessantly and he was not the only one. Viconia, Hammerhelm and Anomen were already bolting from the monster. They unlatched the temple door and pelted through it, driven by a fear more intense than anything most of them had ever experienced. Only Viconia, in the presence of Lolth, had known god-terror before, but that did not take the bite out of it.

Arowan was trying desperately to pull her legs free of the vines, and Yoshimo rushed to aid her only to become trapped himself. Jaheira knew that she needed to lift the spell, but she found herself paralysed by dread. For the first time she truly understood why her daughter had taken numbing potions when faced with the prospect of this. That the skinned dog was the last thing that her husband ever saw was horrific beyond words.

When the Ilmatari looked up, Alorgoth had vanished without a trace. Only Jaheira saw him slink past the avatar with much prostrating, and disappear down the mountainside. The dog sat on its haunches, cocked its head to one side like a terrier and looked wistfully at the temple door.

WAS THAT VICONIA? I'D HAVE THOUGHT SHE'D BE A BIT MORE PLEASED TO SEE ME. SOD YOU TOO THEN! JACKASS!

"This cannot be happening," Arowan sobbed, shaking her head hysterically. "Oh gods, please, this cannot be happening."

The monk's vocal cords hurt too badly to scream any more. In any case his voice could not drown out the words of a god. It spoke like a male, overpowering and otherworldly. Yet the language it was using sounded very familiar.

"Freya?" Rasaad whispered.

NO… YES… NO… NOT EXACTLY.

"Well I'm pleased to see you, Master!" Erowan trilled. "Ooh you've got a fancy new avatar! Very scary. I'll certainly be having nightmares about this one!"

HA! LOOK WHAT I CAN DO!

The dog barked joyfully and swept its furless tail over the ground making it burn with a noxious flame.

"What a super trick. Very impressive Master," the cultist beamed indulgently.

All at once the apparition froze. Then it started flinching as though someone were tugging on an invisible leash. The flayed wolf whined and resisted, like a puppy not wanting to leave the park after walkies.

OH NO… WHAT… WHAT'S HAPPENING…?

"I'm afraid you can't stay. Not all of you have died yet," Erowan replied apologetically. "I knew you wouldn't want these daft monks burning down your lovely temple, and they were filling the sacrificial lake with their own blood anyway so I thought I might as well…"

WHY ARE THERE SO MANY VOICES? WAIT! DON'T SEND US BACK, WE HAVE QUESTIONS!

"I'm sorry Master, but we've used up all the blood," she said. "Just hang in there. I'm sure the rest of you will pop your clogs soon enough."

THERE'S ONE!

The wolf pointed a hairless paw directly at Arowan. Its claw extended, shaking from the effort of remaining in their plane. Erowan looked over her shoulder with a mild expression on her face.

I SEE ONE OF ME OVER THERE! KILL ME! GET ON WITH IT, I WANT TO COME BACK! OR AT LEAST… MOST OF ME DOES… SHUT UP SAREVOK, NOBODY ASKED YOU!

"Well, I'll try to persuade you Master, but you know you can be very stubborn in your mortal guises about wanting to stay alive!" Erowan wagged a finger at him. "See you soon!"

NO, NO, NO… BUGGER!

The wolf popped out of existence. His loyal cultist waved him goodbye. Then she looked around the temple grounds at all the dead monks and abandoned equipment. She sighed and shook her head.

"Look at the mess they made of the rockery!"

Then she turned to Arowan, just as the vines began to recede. They'd all heard what Bhaal had instructed his follower to do, and her party's hands flew to their weapons.

"Stay away from me!" Arowan screamed.

"See Master? I told you, you weren't going to co-operate!" Erowan rolled her brown eyes. "You never do. Well, I'm certainly not going to stand here and argue with you about it. You can take it up with Amelyssan when she finds you."

"Who is Amelyssan?" Arowan asked shakily. "What just happened?"

"Those fighting monks dropped a lot of sacrificial blood into the fountain," Erowan said. "Powerful stuff. It was enough to bring the rest of you back from the Abyss, long enough to stop them burning down this temple. Can't make it permanent though. Not until all of you is down there."

"You mean until all of Bhaal's children are dead?"

"That's right, Master," Erowan said. "Don't worry, it shouldn't take much longer. Amelyssan says she has a very clever plan to collect the rest of you. You'll be back to your old self in no time!"

"I don't suppose she told you what this very clever plan is?" Yoshimo asked sharply.

"Oh no, dear. They never tell me anything," the cultist laughed. Then she seemed struck by a sudden thought, and clapped her freckled hand to her face. "Amelyssan didn't say I could perform the ritual. I hope she isn't going to be cross. She's so mean when she gets cross."

"We won't tell if you won't," Arowan said weakly. Suddenly her legs gave out from under her and Yoshimo had to catch her before she hit the ground.

"You seem to be a little out of sorts Master," Erowan said kindly. "Would you like a cup of tea, oh Lord of the Void of Death?

"You're not going to poison it are you?" asked Jaheira mistrustfully.

"Not unless he asks me to."

"I'm not a 'he!'" the Bhaalspawn objected.

"Whatever you say Master. You're the god."

"A cup of tea… a cup of tea would be lovely," Arowan replied, her head spinning. Why not? It wasn't like this day could possibly get any more surreal. "And then I want to go to sleep and then I want to get as far away from this temple as possible!"

She woke the next morning, wondering if the events of the night before had been a bad reaction to Zaviak's herbs. They weren't. Bandaged and leaning on a crutch, Brother Kelner limped out and pressed on them all the cookies he had. Erowan followed behind with more tea. When they'd handed over their refreshments, the two stepped back holding hands.

Hammerhelm also came to see them off. The dwarf looked strikingly different. He was wearing flowing white robes and a flower crown. Every so often he stroked at a shadow of stubble on his chin, which he hadn't shaved off.

"Praised be the Twofold for our deliverance," he beamed.

"That wasn't the Twofold. That was Bhaal!" Erowan piped up helpfully.

"Of course it was," Hammerhelm replied patronizingly. "Now don't you have some beds to make or something?"

"If you like," she smiled vacantly, and wandered back toward the temple.

"Ah yes, as I was saying," the dwarf coughed. "Terribly sorry to see you go Rasaad. You and your charming lady-friend are welcome back any time." He looked shamefacedly at the rest of the party. "We've er… decided to dispense with the trials from now on. We're making some changes in the way the Trust is run."

"Several of our monks had spiritual epiphanies in the run up to the Twofold sending her dog to save us," Kelner nodded. "The brotherhood have decided that a greater emphasis on assisted meditation rather than combat would best serve the Trust going forward."

"Assisted meditation?" echoed Rasaad.

"Indeed. Brother Yoshimo, I wonder if we might take a sample of those wonderful leaves of yours? We're putting together a pilgrimage to obtain seedlings so that we might start growing our own."

"Ah," said Rasaad critically. "I see."

"Take the lot," sighed Yoshimo. "Here, you can have my pipe too. I'm giving it up."

"I'm giving up shaving," Hammerhelm said conversationally. "The whole 'no beard' rule was a requirement of the Sun Soul. If last night demonstrates anything it is that we are the favoured of the Twofold, not those other blasphemous sects."

"Master, the Twofold is made up!" Rasaad exclaimed in horrified disbelief. "Alorgoth admitted this himself!"

"The Twofold has been revealed for the falsehood it is," Hammerhelm sighed, taking off his flower crown and twisting it in his hands. "But clearly the established sects of Shar and Selune are not offering their followers what they need. How else could the Trust have drawn in so many followers in such a short time? Besides, we think that the goddess put the idea into Alorgoth's mind so that he might inadvertently spread the Twofold truth. She is cunning like that."

Both Rasaad and Viconia opened their mouths to argue, but already their party were walking away. Sharran and Selunite exchanged looks and then shook their heads. Some of the monks were up and about, repairing the damaged rockery, washing away the blood and preparing a patch of ground for their new 'herb garden.' Monk and cleric turned to follow their party down the mountain, leaving the lost cause of the Twofold behind them.