Disclaimer: This story is written using the setting and the characters of the Forgotten Realms, part of Dungeons & Dragons and wholly owned by Wizards of the Coast. Original characters, fictional locations, and such are all entirely made up and any resemblance to other people/places is purely coincidental. If you find a reason to sue me, proceed. Just be warned, I'm virtually penniless and have a cute little puppy that relies on me or food and a warm place to sleep. A puppy, people. Don't be cruel.

Thicker Than Blood

- The First of Many -

"If you have the arrogance of a god and can kill like a god, who's to say you are not a god?"

- Winski Perorate

25th of Tarsakh, 1368

A glass of wine in his hand, Colvar stared out the window at the sprawling city of Baldur's Gate from the fifth floor of the Iron Throne's Headquarters, savoring the sweet taste of his drink. Though, he reminded himself, the true Headquarters was in Cormyr. Or was that Sembia? No, the man recalled then, the Iron Throne had been banned from Cormyr.

In any case, they had shifted their focus to Baldur's Gate as of late, despite the iron crisis that was now tearing the Sword Coast apart. Or perhaps, Colvar smiled to himself, because of it. Yes, he had his suspicions, and he would have his answers soon enough. All would be revealed by the end of the night, for that was what he had been promised. While he enjoyed wealth and power, he had to ensure his survival in order to enjoy such things, and much depended on his alliance with the man he was now here to see.

Colvar moved away from the window and returned to a seat he favored, delighting in the comfort it provided him, though he could not dispel the sense of unease that gnawed at him. Just how long did they plan to make an honored guest such as he wait?

After all, who knew how much time they had left?

It had been some time since Colvar had last been in Amn and Tethyr, but he well remembered the rising tensions among the people, the growing fear that war was coming. He well remembered who was behind it.

A dark alliance between Bhaal's children. Bastards had tried killing him.

Or at least, their hired knives had tried, but it was the height of foolishness for one to try and kill a Bhaalspawn without being a Bhaalspawn themselves. He had slain all of them, save for one. The survivor, he had sent back to the bitch that had dispatched them in the first place, albeit missing bits and pieces. After all, Colvar was quite adept in torture.

He licked his lips as he remembered that particular session, the sensations of cutting into the assassin's flesh, the screams that his sweet ministrations had elicited.

There were rumors of dragons gathering within the mountains of Tethyr as well as an unholy alliance of dark elves and mind flayers lurking within the darkness. Colvar wasn't absolutely certain of it yet but he suspected the ogre mage Sythillis, who even now sought to incite a rebellion within southern Amn, to be aligned with them as well. Worst of all, there was a great army on the march, sacking cities and burning lands as they went. An army comprised of, if you could believe it, humans and fire giants and fire elementals, all worshipping a fire giant as if he were a god himself.

It was also said that this fire giant was supposedly invulnerable to all weapons and all manner of magic, that he was unkillable, that he had sacrificed his own beating heart to some dark god in exchange for immortality.

In any case, there were preparations to make, allies to gather, and above all, an army to raise. All the resources and wealth of the Iron Throne would go a long way, but they would also need the city of Baldur's Gate as well, along with the Flaming Fist mercenary company, two thousand strong. But the Flaming Fist wouldn't be enough alone. It would take a fortune to secure the allegiance of mercenaries too. They would have to ensnare the rest of the Lords' Alliance into the coming conflict as well. They would need all the strength of Waterdeep and Neverwinter, certainly, as well as the forces of Daggerford, Berdusk, and others still.

He hadn't come without plans, after all. Whatever schemes the Iron Throne had managed to concocted would have to be put aside. There was far more important things to do, far greater prizes to attain.

The Five, as far as he knew, sought to resurrect their dead father and take their places at his side as demigods in their own right. He would destroy their plans himself, murder the Five, and take their place at his father's side once Bhaal was resurrected.

All Colvar needed was a partner, one with immense strength and the resources necessary to begin putting their plan into effect.

He heard the door open then, brought his attention up to the man who had just entered. "Finally, I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, dear brother." Colvar smiled as he raised his glass to the young man who had just entered, though that brought him up short. Young, yes... He was only, what, twenty three or twenty four. Yet he was possessed of a physique that put other men to shame. "Master Anchev, these last few days, we've spoken about much but...I must insist on hearing your answer," Colvar stood up then, perhaps nowhere near as imposing but he was also nothing to scoff at. The power of Bhaal, his vile essence, ran strong in him too. "Now."

The man stared at him then, making it clear he did not appreciate the threatening note Colvar had just taken. Colvar cared little about it, though, for he knew if he showed any weakness now, it would be this younger man who would dominate their partnership.

Colvar chuckled then, not wishing to jeopardize the partnership over some slight, "We've not much time if we're to move ahead of our enemies and lay claim to our places at Bhaal's side. There is much to be done."

"You are right," the man spoke though he continued to glare at Colvar, "but you must wait a moment longer. I must retrieve something from my room, something you may find interesting."

The Bhaalspawn sighed, partly in annoyance though part of him was interested.

It was some time before Colvar heard his sibling return and turned to face him, ready to press him on the issue of allying together if what the younger man had to show was of little importance. He stopped then, stopped as soon as he caught sight of the armored figure before him. Somehow his sibling seemed many times bigger than he had before, far more fearsome and far more monstrous. "Wha..."

"Impressive, is it not?" The armored figure approached closer. "It was completed only this morning, by a trusted ally of mine. His designs are most extraordinary. Divinely inspired, one might even say." He spread his arms out wide, as if to reveal all of himself in his full glory.

"Most impressive, yes." Colvar managed to say, forcing aside his surprise. In truth, he was also equally elated, for here was a fearsome monster that seemed as if it could go toe to toe with a fire giant... and come out the victor. "A fearsome sight to behold, brother. One worthy of a child of Bhaal."

The younger man laughed then, a harsh laughter that sent chills up Colvar's spine. "It is only appropriate, after all. I have undergone a training so brutal that only the strongest could have survived it. It was but a matter of course to fashion for myself armor fitting for a Deathbringer descended from Bhaal himself. It is just as well for my weapon shall be finished soon."

Colvar smiled, pleased at this turn of events. His doubts were cleared then, at the sight of a partner that would strike fear into all his enemies. "I have no doubt that even without a weapon there is no one who could best you."

"Indeed, much less a simpleton like you." The armored figure approached even closer. "Your enemies will perish too, that much is true. But what you fail to realize, Colvar... Is that while you may be satisfied with a place at Father Bhaal's side..." He grabbed Colvar and raised him up into the air then, without much effort. "... I have no such desire! Father Bhaal is dead and those who seek to resurrect him are but fools!" He spun around, hurling Colvar across the room until the Bhaalspawn crashed into the heavy doors, splintering them in the process and sending him sliding across the floor.

Thunderous footsteps followed as Colvar struggled to get to his feet, desperate to escape, to survive this. He would get away and he would have his revenge on his sibling as well. Nothing had changed, truly. There were hundreds of Bhaalspawns out there. There would be one as strong as the Five and clever enough to see the merits in his plans! If this fool did not wish to be a demigod, then he could die for all Colvar cared.

"Resurrect Bhaal?" The armored figure spoke as he strode toward Colvar, his intent to kill overflowing. "No. Our father will stay dead and all our brothers and sisters will join him in death! Only I alone will remain! Only I alone will ascend!"

That stopped Colvar in his tracks and he turned to look back at the armored figure.

"Behold," his sibling spoke then, "the new Lord of Murder!" With the announcement, the two of them locked eyes and Colvar felt the worst fear he had ever experienced in his life, fear that threatened to overwhelm him and buckle his knees, fear that promised death.

And yet... He pushed through it and took off running, straight for the stairs to the lower level. Colvar stopped suddenly, catching sight of the armored figure's lackeys, the ones he had referred to as his 'acolytes'. Growling in frustration, he changed directions and made a mad scramble for another door.

Colvar heard that hideous laughter as he slammed the door wide open, only to find stairs leading... up. Deep within, he knew he was dead, that his half brother would get him. Growling again, Colvar refused to believe that this was where he would end, murdered at the hands of a child of Bhaal. Instead, he pushed on and climbed the stairs.

Behind him, the armored figure closed in on him, shut the door behind him with a loud slam. The fool had run himself into a dead end and he would tie up yet another loose end. The first of many loose ends.

The acolytes took up position in front of the door then, knowing their lord and master would murder Colvar, that there was no need for them to assist him in this. Furthermore, they understood this to be a ceremony of sorts, symbolic in truth, for it marked the true beginning of their master's plan. The true beginning of his ascension to godhood. Then, they heard it then, his proclamation from the roof of their headquarters.

"I will be the last... and you will go first!"

"A lie spread often enough with money to attend it becomes as much truth as a coin is round."

- Common Amnish Saying

Well met, adventurer. You seem like a curious sort who enjoys the finer things. Permit me then to regale you with a tale from a time long since gone, a century in the passing. I think you'll find it well worth your time and the price of a pint of Westgate Ruby wine.

Who am I, you ask?

Volothamp Geddarm at your service, setting forth truths like the deep and ancient secrets whispered into my ears by the guardian spirits of the hidden tombs of fallen archmages now dust.

Ooh. I like the sound of that, yes. I do think I'll write that down in my latest manuscript. It's about monsters, you see. But that's not what I promised you, is it now?

Let's see... It was the Year of the Banner, 1368 Dale Reckoning. The setting? Baldur's Gate. The Gate to those who live in that sprawling metropolis. A city of immeasurable commerce and limitless opportunities, and by far the most prosperous of merchant cities. It was once the greatest of city-states that could be found on the Sword Coast. It was, as it still is to this day, a member of the Lords' Alliance in good standing.

With Waterdeep to the north and Amn to the south, Baldur's Gate was built upon a strip of soil unfit for farming, but it also had the grace to be established beside a natural bay, at the mouth of the River Chionthar.

The denizens of the Gate were diverse and came from all walks of life. Anyone could come to the Gate and start a new life, no matter who or what they were. Despite being home to tens of thousands, more than sixty thousand souls, Baldur's Gate was all the more remarkable for its safety. This was, in no small part, due to the presence of the Watch and the exceedingly formidable mercenary company that had made its home there, the Flaming Fist.

Baldur's Gate's wealth came from the exports of such things as dyes, fish in barrels of salt, lamp oil, and above all, the coinage of the trade. They minted their own silver bars, you see. Five gold pieces for a single pound of it. More than that, the Gate was also home to nearly a hundred professional guilds. Seafarers. Brewmasters. Metalworkers. And yet more!

There was also mercantile groups that operated within the Gate. The Merchant's League. The Seven Suns Trading Coster. The Knights of the Shield. The Iron Throne.

But such peace and wealth inevitably draw those with ill intentions. The city was beginning to feel the pinch of the iron shortage. For some strange, unknown reason, every bit of iron across the Sword Coast crumbled, made useless by some mysterious affliction. The greatest source of iron for the Sword Coast was the mines of Nashkel though what iron they did mine was brittle and near worthless.

Some blamed Amn for the shortage. Others still thought it the doing of the Zhentarim. There were even suspicions of the Grand Dukes of the Gate being involved in the growing crisis. Things were getting dire then. Iron rendered worthless. War looming on the horizon. Chaos all along the Sword Coast and within the Gate.

Amidst it all, the one place that remained thus far untouched was Candlekeep, the great library-fortress of the Sword Coast. Within those stony walls lies the hero of our tale. None knew it then, save for perhaps one old man, that this boy would go on to become one of the most powerful mortals to ever walk the realms.

"The possession of knowledge does not kill the sense of wonder and mystery. There is always more mystery."

1st of Mirtul, 1368

The great keep of Candlekeep, built long ago atop a volcanic crag a mere hundred paces away from the Trackless Sea, has been home to quite perhaps the greatest repository of knowledge in all of Faerun, if not all of Toril.

Its thick walls, the high towers, the imposing keep that serves as sanctuary to thousands upon thousands of books and scrolls and manuscripts, are ancient beyond most measures, having existed for at least a thousand years thus far. While many know it as the home of the great seer Alaundo, it was in actuality built several centuries before the seer would be born, raised in the Year of Stonerising, -200 Dalereckoning.

Wise Alaundo himself only came to Candlekeep and made his home there in the Year of Clinging Death, 75 Dalereckoning.

It was there at Candlekeep that he received his visions for the future, visions that continue to foretell events that has yet to unfold, a millennia later. It was only after his death that Candlekeep became a sanctuary of knowledge, preserving not only Alaundo's prophecies but all knowledge possible.

There was fifteen hundred years of history within the walls of Candlekeep and today Gorion felt each and every year weigh heavily on him. He sighed as he looked out the window from his private chambers within the Great Library, down upon the Court of Air where he could see his foster child sitting down on the grass and speaking with one of the few other children to grow up at Candlekeep, a young little rapscallion by the name of Imoen. No doubt his ward was regaling Imoen with tales of heroics, of swords and sorcery, of dungeons and dragons. Stories he himself had related to his own foster child not too long ago.

The old sage pulled himself away from the window and sat down at his desk, returning his attention to the task of going over the letter that he had received not too long ago, torn between choices that he must soon decide upon.

He picked up the letter yet again, reading through it and hoping to perhaps discover something he had missed, though in his heart of hearts Gorion knew he had missed nothing. There was no secrets within the lines, concealed by some clever cipher or hidden by magical means.

My friend Gorion,

Please forgive the abruptness with which I now write, but time is short and there is much to be done. What we have long feared may soon come to pass, though not in the manner foretold, and certainly not in the proper time frame. As we both know, forecasting these events has proved increasingly difficult, leaving little option other than a leap of faith. We have done what we can for those in thy care, but the time nears when we must step back and let matters take what course they will. We have, perhaps, been a touch too sheltering to this point.

Despite my desire to remain neutral in this matter, I could not, in good conscience, let events proceed without some measure of warning. The other side will move very soon, and I urge thee to leave Candlekeep this very night, if possible. The darkness may seem equally threatening, but a moving target is much harder to hit, regardless of how sparse the cover. A fighting chance is all that can be asked for at this point.

Should anything go awry, do not hesitate to seek aid from travelers along the way. I do not need to remind thee that it is a dangerous land, even without our current concerns, and a party is stronger than an individual in all respects. Should additional assistance be required, I understand that Jaheira and Khalid are currently at the Friendly Arm Inn. They know little of what has passed, but they are ever thy friends and will no doubt help however they can.

Luck be with us all.

I'm getting too old for this.

E

At the very least, that was something that comforted Gorion greatly. Jaheira and Khalid were, by far, the most dependable of allies and friends that could be trusted with his life and that of his foster child. While they were both only in their thirties, they had demonstrated all the fine qualities necessary in Harpers and Gorion knew they would never let him down.

Furthermore, as gifted and formidable as he knew himself to be, Gorion also knew his weaknesses well. Khalid and Jaheira possessed martial skills that he lacked, while Jaheira had a connection to nature that would allow them to stay ahead of their enemies. The only problem was... how to escape Candlekeep and meet up with his allies without them noticing. A powerful wizard such as he would certainly be watched, and while he had sensed no scrying made against him, he full knew that there were other methods, methods less magical in nature. There could be no doubt that the enemy already had some influence within Candlekeep's walls, enough influence to keep the enemy aware of his movements.

There came a knock at the door, and Tethtoril entered the chamber only at Gorion's permission. The sage beckoned him closer before pulling out a piece of black cloth, murmuring words of power that would proof his private chamber against any and all means of spying. Putting away the fabric, Gorion gestured for Tethtoril to take a seat. "First Reader, I thank you for coming at my request. I hope I am not distracting you from your responsibilities."

The red-robed wizard waved it aside. "As always, it is a privilege. Ulraunt has things well managed at the moment and I was merely meeting with Firebead."

Gorion raised an eyebrow then. "Firebead Elvenhair is here as well? Ah, no matter." The sage folded the letter in his hand then, slipped it into one of his desk's drawers. "I have decided to leave," said Gorion simply, though the statement was full of weight and spoke volumes about the choice he had come to.

"I see." Tethtoril began, "And what of the child?"

"He will accompany me, of course. Candlekeep is..." Gorion sighed then. "Candlekeep is no longer the sanctuary it once was. The enemy has been here already, and I suspect the enemy knows the truth of my ward's background, his... his heritage. Of what importance this may be to the enemy, I know not, but one thing remains clear... My child is in danger."

Tethtoril nodded, "and so, you would take him to safety."

Gorion smiled, for there were none as intelligent and perceptive as the First Reader. Truly, there were times when Gorion suspected the man to be a favorite of Mystra. Then again, there were times when he suspected Tethtoril to have the favor of more than just one deity. He was, after all, by far the finest First Reader Candlekeep had ever had, gifted not only in balancing Ulraunt and the Avowed but in plucking secrets from the Great Library that generations of monks had failed to come across.

"What of Kasmir, though?" Tethtoril continued, referring to the sage's foster child. There was no denying that the boy was unique. "By all accounts, he has all the makings of a sorcerer, no doubt due to his... heritage. He still has need of your guidance."

Gorion could only sigh. "I know, Tethtoril. I know. Even when he was young, Kasmir has always delighted in my demonstrations of the magical arts. Imagine my surprise when he simply began to call on powers I had spent a lifetime studying... Yet, the way in which he manages it..."

Tethtoril chuckled then, "his reckless methods, you mean."

"Methods would have suggested some form of procedure," Gorion went on, "but his approach has certainly been chaotic, in truth. I've tried giving him pointers, guide him along in mastering his abilities. Still, there is simply just no sense to any of it."

"Truly, you were never comfortable about it." Tethtoril remarked, more a question than anything.

"I never was," Gorion acceded him the point, "though that no longer matters. If mastering his gifts will ensure his survival, then it matters not where they came from."

"Indeed," Tethtoril agreed. "I presume you have a plan then?"

"Nothing for certain, just the beginning of one, I'm afraid." Gorion looked out the window again, catching sight of an eagle soaring in the sky. It was beginning to darken.

The First Reader nodded, "The beginning of something is better than nothing at all. You'll be leaving soon, I take it?"

"Tomorrow," Gorion confirmed. "Just as darkness falls. We'll make our way through the forest on the Lion's Way, then up the Coast Way to the Friendly Arm Inn. I am told several of my friends are already there, awaiting me. After that... Perhaps Baldur's Gate, where we may find safety among faceless thousands... or perhaps a ship." He looked at Tethtoril then. "I have only a day's time left to me. I must make preparations."

"What can I do to help, Gorion?" The First Reader offered.

"Wish us all the luck you can spare." Gorion stood up then. "I must go now. Please, Tethtoril... Not a word of this to Kasmir. I will speak with him myself."

Tethtoril could only agree, for he knew their safety depended on much, but also on secrecy as much as anything else.

Author's Note: Hello there, readers! First of all, I want to thank you for giving my story here a read. It means a lot.

Anyway. With the upcoming Baldur's Gate III game, I've decided to do a playthrough of the original two games (Technically four, if you include the expansions as well) and this time around, I decided to base a story off it.

A warning, however. I will be trying to write this story while keeping the mechanics of 5th edition of Dungeons and Dragons, and there will be some things that falls squarely under the homebrew category. In this instance, the main character of our story is believed to be a Sorcerer, but as the story goes on, you'll find out just exactly what he really is. This was actually something of an inspiration I had while going through the Murder in Baldur's Game campaign and I wanted to write it out. It'll also be written in the vein of Forgotten Realms novels that many of us enjoy and love, though the prose will be very much in my style.

Also, some of you readers will certainly be some of my regular readers from the Fallout universe. Rest assure, I have not abandoned my fanfics there, and I fully intend to update them soon! A great many things has happened since my last update and I've been stretched rather thin trying to stay on top of it all and what precious little free time I have, it's more or less to blow off stress. I hope you understand, but I will also understand if you find this unacceptable. I can't do anything about that. All I can really do is write what I can when I can and post it once I have a chapter finished.

For those of you new to my writing style, I hope you'll enjoy the ride! All feedback, critique, questions, or anything of the sort really, are all equally welcome! Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think so far! I enjoy hearing what my readers have to say, really. There should be an update to this fanfic coming soon, as I've had plenty of time to write on my business trip!

Kratistos out!