Dreams are not always pleasant. This night... or
day... I could tell which... proved to be a reminder of that. I was
often visited from Ghosts of the past, this was not something new to me.
The Ambush.
"Flee
child, get away from here!" I could hear Gorion, my foster father, cry
out to me. We were surrounded once again by a massive armored figure,
bent on eliminating me. The man's companion, Tamoko, a small human
woman from Kara-Tur, sneered at me as she lifted her bow to fire a
shot. The man was flanked by two hulking ogres, rushing towards Gorion.
They were easily dispatched, my father was an arch magi who was quite
capable of destroying a few simple ogres. The armored figure himself
was another matter. It was Sarevok, my half-brother, who had planned to
become the next Lord of Murder.
"Hand over your ward and I shall let you go free." The man's deep voice rumbled throughout the wilderness.
"Never." Gorion said simply, glaring at the armored figure.
"You are a fool old man; I will cut you down without pause. Give him to me."
Gorion replied to this by sending several fireballs and magic-missiles towards the man, several large flashes and booming explosions soon filled the tree-filled plains.
The ogres soon were charred beyond recognition, and Tamoko had fled during one of the flashes and was no where to be seen. I wasn't entirely surprised, Tamoko had a tendency to flee when she could.
Much to my pain and suffering, Gorion was mercilessly bashed to the ground and torn apart by Sarevok as if he were a child's doll! I ran, I ran until I could no longer feel my legs and then I ran further. I soon collapsed to the ground, hoping that I would not be found by my half-brother, I knew I wouldn't stand a chance where Gorion had failed.
Unconsciousness swept over me, but it was soon interrupted. A woman's pleasant, familiar voice called out, "Hey ya, it's me, Imoen."
Kraeth jutted awake with a start, taking a moment to understand his surroundings. No longer was he being hunted by Sarevok's cronies, Kraeth had destroyed them months ago. His first thought came to... "Imoen! Is she alright?" Kraeth said, not realizing he was talking aloud.
"Oh, she'll be fine." Jaheria said coolly, "How are you doing? You were thrashing about quite a lot. It is your turn for watch, by the way."
"I'm... alright." Kraeth, "Reliving the past, unfortunately."
Jaheria knew better than to pry, and soon went to her bedroll. Despite Khalid's disappearance, Jaheria seemed to have calmed down quite a bit. It was obvious that she was still quite worried, however. Despite the worries of everyone around him, Minsc slept quite peacefully, every now and then mumbling something about having worn out his boots from all the butt-kicking.
Despite that it was my watch, I soon found myself drifting off again...
"Burn the evil one!" I heard someone cry out, "Foul Cyrician!" another called. I slowly opened my heavy eyes, only to be greeted by a most unpleasant sight. In front of me was a large crowd of people, most were peasants and commoners by the looks of it. I was tied to a large wooden altar, surrounded by armored figures holding large, glaring torches. The events that were about to follow were quite obvious.
"All of ye gathered! This... unholy man has dared to tread upon the land of the Even-Handed, Tyr!" A tall man in front of me, spoke to the crowd.
"What shall we do with him? By the will of Tyr, we shall burn him!"
Scattered cries of "Kill the fiend!" and "Destroy the evil one!" could be heard throughout the crowds.
"What have ye to say for yourself, Foul Cyric follower?" One of the armored men yelled at me.
"I," I said calmly, "do not follow Cyric. Cyric is a fool! A myth! I follow only Bhaal, Lord of Murder! You shall all be struck down by his wrath if you do not free me now!" It was true; I had at one point been a priest of Bhaal. I had not realized my heritage at this point.
"Even so, you are an evil being! You must BURN!" shouted someone from the crowd.
I knew that I could not stand up to this many people, especially tied to the altar as I was. I begun to silently pray to myself, hoping someone would come to my aid. Perhaps it was divine intervention, perhaps not. Suddenly, there was a small flash and a cloud of smoke appeared in front of me. I could feel my bonds becoming undone, and someone was pushing me away from the altar to which I was bound. I began to ran, much like I did when Sarevok had killed Gorion, my foster-father.
There was a hooded figure running beside me, the one who had aided in my escape. It wasn't until we came to a small forest clearing that they finally revealed who they were. "And so the tables have turned, I see." The voice was unmistakable. I hadn't seen Imoen for many months, ever since The Ambush.
"I knew you were training as a priest but... Bhaal? I never would have thought that of you..." Imoen didn't look too entirely happy at this. Imoen had never liked death. Though she wasn't too frightened by it, it sickened her.
"So many people close to me are murdered; I plan to return the favor." I said with smoldering eyes.
"You've changed quite a bit, Kraeth..." She said, sadly.
"You haven't much." I returned.
"Hey ya," she gave a weak smile, "it's me, Imoen."