Neutral Evil

(12:00 PM)

Cerdan picked a piece of straw off the collar of his cloak and gave the garment a good shake to remove the dust and dirt. He tossed the cloak over his shoulders and looked in the mirror to ensure that he was presentable. If he was going to be out scheming, he might as well look good while doing so.

As he was fastening the clasp, his office door creaked open. The elf flicked his eyes to the corner of the mirror so he could see the newcomer. "Kretia. Tell me, is Seffron faring any better?"

"Yes, I'm told he should be fine once he wakes up." The blonde woman noticed that there was a rucksack sitting atop Cerdan's desk. "Er, are you going somewhere?"

"The people who attacked Seffron are still out there. I've found a lead, but it's something I want to deal with personally. The attacks on the guild members are far more organized than I would expect. Whoever's behind this mess is well informed of our activity."

"That's the same thing Tomar told me," said Kretia, running a hand through her hair. "Well, it's probably for the best if you two put some space between yourselves. He's been going about all morning trying to turn our thieves and assassins against you. I find it most strange that he would do so during a crisis like the one we face today. Almost as if it had been pre-orchestrated…"

"Really." Cerdan shook his head. "I'm going to have to take harsher measures with him in the future. His little obsession with overthrowing me is becoming a serious problem around here. But I'll deal with that when the time comes. I trust you can handle guild matters while I'm out?"

"Of course, guildmaster. Just be careful out there." She fluttered her fingers slightly. "I wouldn't put too much trust in the other guild members right now. You'd better assume that anyone might have been swayed to Tomar's side."

The elf nodded and strapped a longsword to the side of his belt. "Right. Still, I have to deal with one crisis before I can single-handedly avert another. Try to keep close tabs on everything and everyone in the guildhouse while I'm gone. I have an odd feeling that I've been overlooking something." He paused to think for a moment, then shrugged and made his way for the door. "Be careful. Today feels just a tad more mutinous than usual..."

"Understood," Kretia said after he'd passed out the door. The woman took a breath and slowly exhaled as she stood by herself in the guildmaster's office. Now that she was alone, there were many things that still had to be dealt with.

(12:03)

"Ugh. This smell is going to haunt me for weeks," Selena muttered as she surveyed the mess in her chambers. Deep down, she knew that there had to be some unspoken reason for Cerdan's flowers. But for the life of her, she couldn't get past her frustration at being strung along like this.

The ewer had rolled off her desk and smashed on the floor, leaving the stinkbloom flowers in a soapy puddle on the ground. Stranger still were the hundreds of cracked golden bead husks that were strewn across the table and carpet. One of the acolytes would have their day's work cut out for them.

The priestess shook her head as she moved to her dresser, then changed out of her soiled outfit and into a lighter traveler's robe. Come to think of it, Cerdan definitely owed her an explanation for all this. And right now, he was probably her best lead for finding the people behind the vault heist.

Of course, it was hard to draw a straight answer out of him without getting a coy, flirtatious remark instead. Sometimes it seemed like he was really a half-wit, but Selena wondered if it was just an act; he was probably smarter than that. He'd have to be, or he would never have become leader of his guildhall.

"I never believed I'd ever find myself on a first-name basis with a thief," she said under her breath as she touched her holy symbol of Tyr against her forehead. The elf said a quick prayer for guidance, then paused and looked in her mirror as she let her hair down, hurriedly trying to brush out the streaks of mud and dirt.

She knew that Cerdan's guild was located at the far edge of the city's merchant district, but it wouldn't take her long to get there if she borrowed one of the paladins' horses. Of course, convincing the local thieves to let her see him was another matter altogether.

The priestess glanced down, then tucked her holy symbol away beneath the front of her robe, and gave her outfit a tug to clear the creases. Now it was time to finally get some answers.

(12:06)

Breathing slowly, Dace closed his eyes and leaned back against the edge of the boat, allowing the salty sea air to fill his sinuses. He'd become accustomed to the scent while languishing in the seaside prison, and wanted to enjoy the smell one last time before they reached the mainland.

"Why do they call you the 'Black Viper'?" Tavros suddenly demanded from the other end of the skiff, breaking the mercenary's concentration.

Dace shrugged but didn't open his eyes, "I would not know. The prisoners chose that name, not I. I prefer to avoid using aliases unless absolutely necessary… people tend to confuse your reputation if you go by too many names."

"What reputation? Before today, I'd never even heard of you, old man."

"That is because the boss that you mentioned – Cordas, I believe – is nothing but a small-change gangster. A sad little man who believes his tiny hill to be a mountain. Hardly the type to know of professionals like myself." Dace opened his eyes and stared across at Tavros. "I know of your employer's reputation. Does he still own that cheap whorehouse on Southside Row?"

Tavros suddenly jumped to his feet and closed in on the mercenary, roughly yanking Dace up by the collar. The two other goons cried out and clutched their oars tightly as the boat rocked violently from side to side.

"If you speak ill of my lord Cordas again, I'll throw you overboard myself!"

The mercenary's face revealed neither fear nor surprise. Dace was looking upon Tavros with disdain, as an adult would look upon a troublesome, misbehaving child. "And if you lay a hand upon me again, I will slowly cleave off each of your fingers before I finally kill you."

"Mighty words from a shackled old bag." Tavros let go, prodded mercenary in the chest, and knocked him back down into his seat. The henchman then returned to his own spot on the boat. "We'll see if your words live up to your abilities soon enough. For now, you'll lead us to wherever the Sigil of the Fallen is hidden."

Dace nodded and played along, knowing that the best he could do was to wait for a new opportunity to appear. "It is inside a wooden guard tower in the city's abandoned Old Quarter."

Tavros narrowed his eyes. "No one's entered that area for years. The rumors of a lingering plague virus left by Talonite assassins in the region –"

"Are whispers and lies, nothing more. Part of a city council strategy to devalue the poorer districts of Baldur's Gate," Dace replied with a smirk. "At least it keeps the riffraff out. That is where we must go, unless you would rather flee to your employer empty-handed."

With a deep frown, Tavros grumbled for several seconds in contemplation, but gave an assenting nod. Dace assumed that the man didn't want to appear reluctant in front of his goons. Foolish posturing, but at least Dace was another step closer to claiming freedom.

The mercenary leaned back and took in another deep breath of the salty air. An opportunity was waiting in the wings somewhere, and Dace was ready to seize it. After all, there was still so much to be done…

(12:15)

Cordas stared into the gilded mirror standing at the back corner of his office. The face looking back at him was everything he was not: young and unscarred, tinged with red flare, and burning with barely bridled rage.

"Have you anything worthwhile to report, or are you simply wasting both our time with this banter?" demanded Lord Pryus.

"Ah, we have made considerable progress in the hunt for the Sigils, and–"

"Then you have yet to acquire even one of the twin amulets?"

Cordas shifted his weight from foot to foot and held up the iron box that the Sergeant stole from the Temple of Tyr.

Scratching at his neck and wincing in invitation, Pryus growled, "Unless that tithe includes the Sigils of the Fallen, I do not care for it."

"It's not the Sigil, my lord," said Cordas, eliciting a sneer from the man in the mirror portal. "But it is something that will help us acquire what you seek. You have my guarantee that no expense shall be forgone on the final part of this mission. I will personally lead my men in the last leg of the operation."

Pryus was looking down at his palm, alternately stretching his fingers and clenching a fist. "My sources tell me that you have an agent that has broken loose into the city. A ranger by the name of Norris."

"A former ranger, actually. And he is nothing to be concerned about."

"I question that. One of my associates will deal with him personally. You should concern yourself with finishing what I ordered you to do," Pryus snorted and a wisp of grey smoke came from his nostrils, "Mark this: You now have until nightfall to acquire the Sigils. Remember to whom you owe all your riches and splendor."

"Of course, my lord," Cordas bowed low, and Pryus ended the communiqué. As soon as the image vanished, Cordas straightened up and punched the face of the mirror. The blow left no mark in the magical pane, and only caused the stand to wobble slightly.

The stinging pain that remained in the old man's knuckles forced Cordas to clutch his hand as he returned to his desk near the front of the room. "He thinks I am in debt over matters of my past," he said aloud, taking comfort in the sound of his own voice.

"But he doesn't know my frame of mind at all. I still have my freedom, and that's the only weapon I need." The crimelord leaned back in his chair and picked up a cup of tea from his lunch platter. "You'll receive your precious Sigils, Pryus. But don't expect the future to be the same as things are today."

Running a finger over the rim of his cup, the old man stared into his wavering reflection. The future, Cordas' future, was still his to shape. The crimelord's lip curled up as he took a sip of his tea. He knew that his lord was entrenched in the ways of the past, and that would be Pryus' downfall.

It didn't matter what anyone said. Cordas knew that he was in control of the present. In the end, he was confident that he would be ready for Pryus.

(12:25)

Giving casual nods to the thieves he passed in the hallway, Cerdan made his way toward the front of the guildhouse. As he neared the exit of the building, he could hear an argument going on just outside the door.

"Perhaps we should tell the guildmaster. The woman outside is pretty darn fixed on seeing him," said one of the junior guild agents.

"Pah," the second voice was Tomar's. "Or perhaps we should first take this woman around to the stables in the back and interrogate her; find out who she is and how she knows the location of our guildhouse. For all we know, she may be an assassin, here to strike a blow at the heart of our operations."

Cerdan rounded the corner and stepped outside, coming between the two of them. "I take it you have something to report?"

The younger thief nodded and pointed down the street at a robed, red-haired figure that was waiting just out of earshot beside a well-bred steed. "See that? This elf woman shows up just now, demanding that you come out to speak with her. But the lieutenant here thinks we should just give her the laugh and send her off."

"Ah, I was wondering when she would finally show up," Cerdan remarked as he squinted across the road at Selena. Moving past Tomar, the guildmaster added, "I'm going out for a while. Kretia's in charge until I return."

"What!" Tomar seized Cerdan by the shoulder and yanked the elf back a few steps, "Just like that, you're going with her? Who is that woman? And why are you so quick to leave this place?"

"You may have a hard time believing this," said the elf as he reached up and removed the lieutenant's hand, "but not every move I make has to pass through you for approval. Maybe that will change if you were to become guildmaster, but not now. Kretia will keep a tight leash on things, so don't become too distracted from today's attacks on the guild."

Cerdan turned and walked away from the guildhouse. "You've chosen a bad day to stage a coup. Try not to cause an internal guild war while I'm gone. We both have enough enemies already."

Hearing no reply from his lieutenant, the elf decided to take it as a sign of compliance. He quickly crossed over to the other side of the street where Selena was waiting for him.

Giving a short nod, the priestess then glanced across the road at Tomar. "You should know that the fellow behind you was making a rude hand gesture at your back."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry," Cerdan said with a smile and an offhand wave, "He's just jealous that I have so many lovely ladies rapping on my door for my company." He waited for an indignant reply of some sort, but Selena remained impassive. The thief shrugged, then grabbed his cloth hood and pulled it up over his head. "But what, praytell, is your pressing reason for coming here in person? A terribly big risk, I would think."

"You knew about the attack on our temple," Selena began, "Someone stole a rather important artifact from our main vault. Do you remember the Verskul incident, when your friend Derrick destroyed the liche atop the clock tower a few years ago?"

"Of course, how could I forget the day we first met? Ah, so many memories…" In truth, Cerdan remembered that when he first met Selena, he knocked her unconscious by clubbing her in the face with a wooden board. "Wait. There was an artifact the liche was using… a sigil of some sort, wasn't it? Derrick entrusted it to you for safekeeping…"

"Calm yourself, the Sigil is still stored in a sub-plane beyond our realm. The artifact that was stolen, however, is a special portal key. If it is brought to the top floor in the Tower of Tyr, the villains behind the robbery may gain access to the Sigil."

Selena continued, "I need any information you have on the people behind it." She turned and mounted her steed, then took the reins in her hands. "A name or location will do. Just tell me, and I will ensure that – what in Tyr's name are you doing!"

Grabbing Selena's arm for support, Cerdan pulled himself up and climbed onto the horse, squeezing in behind her. "Ah, good thing your knights use such large saddles. All that plate armour adds a good ten centimetres to the size of their rumps, I imagine. Shall we go?"

"Get off! You will not ride with me."

"Please, time is short. We're paying a visit to Southside Row. That's where our enemies are operating." Cerdan motioned for her to use the reins, "Come now, haven't you ever ridden a war-horse before?"

The rogue smiled pleasantly as Selena gaped over her shoulder at him in apparent disbelief. "What? I have questions to ask first. Just slow down and tell –"

Cerdan reached around her and gave the reins a shake to get the horse moving. "Sorry, no slowing down. Not the time to be squeamish, priestess. Something much grander is in the works right now. By the way, it's nice that you let your hair down, but I must say you smell absolutely terrible."

"That's another thing; what were those accursed flowers for? No, wait, don't try to throw me off topic. If we're going into the city's southern district, I'll first need to inform the Temple of Tyr so they can send a squadron of knights as protection."

"A bad idea. Our enemy is well informed – I'm not taking any chances with your colleagues or mine; someone is bound to tip off our targets if we don't tackle the matter this instant, and quietly too." He leaned forward slightly, "Besides, aren't you enjoying this little private time together?"

"You're appalling. How do you know all this, anyway? And what's your stake?" she asked.

The guildmaster ignored her questions and instead reached into his tunic pocket to quietly check the tracking crystal while Selena's head was turned away. "He's definitely heading south. Focus on the road while you're riding, please."

"Just watch where you put your hands," sighed the priestess. She didn't bother pressing further, which told Cerdan that she was most likely fed up with his cockiness and lack of forthcoming information. Satisfied that she would go along with him, albeit grudgingly, the thief looked toward the west and squinted at the city clock tower in the distance.

It was currently past noon, which gave him at least six hours to deal with this mess before a new one cropped up at the guildhouse. If Tomar were serious about his play for power, he'd probably wait until nightfall to start the takeover. The best uprisings always occurred overnight.

(12:29)

The Old Quarter of the Baldur's Gate was located down in the worst corner of town, stuck downstream from the rest of the city. As such, it was where the rest of the city's river-filth ended up. As Dace walked through the narrow streets alongside Tavros and the two goons, he saw that the place was still the very picture of decay and destitution. Even the buildings, brown and crumbling, looked like they were sick and dying from disease.

In some ways, it was even worse than the dreaded Southside Row. At least the Row still had an active and mostly healthy criminal populace. The only residents of the filth-ridden Old Quarter were either insane or diseased beyond relief. Usually both.

Fortunately, people in the Old Quarter were few and far between. Probably only a handful of souls ever dared to survive in the district, which was the main reason that Dace chose this place to hide his stash.

"It is less than a block from here. But you may find it difficult to enter the building. I set up the traps myself," said Dace.

"Just shut up and keep moving," Tavros replied. The leader covered his nose as he sneezed, then called out to one of the goons in front of them, who was scouting out the area ahead. "He says we're getting close, keep your crossbow ready!"

The goon nodded back and hefted his weapon with a grin, then returned his attention to the road ahead. As soon as he did this, the goon's head suddenly snapped to the side. His body collapsed to the ground, falling limply on his side.

The three others halted immediately and began glancing about for enemies. Narrowing his eyes forward, Dace saw a large amount of blood seeping from the side of the dead henchman's head, but no arrow or quarrel was visible.

Probably a shot from a sling stone, then, Dace thought, but that would mean we've been attacked by…

He stared down at his wrists, then quickly dismissed the idea of fighting when his forearms were braced together by steel. Instead, the mercenary dashed off to the side of the street, vanishing out of sight down a dark passageway between the buildings.

(12:31)

Before Tavros could move to prevent the mercenary from escaping, something sliced through the air near Tavros' ear, and a bullet stone stuck into the ground behind him, prompting him to stay in place. Tavros' remaining goon immediately raised his crossbow and released a return shot at a nearby building. An instant later, they saw a body draped in green robes fall from a building rooftop nearby.

Two more figures in green emerged from an alleyway down the street, neither carrying a weapon in their hands. That probably meant they were spellcasters, able to summon up their own magical weapons.

One of the figures had robes that were a much darker shade of green than the others, presumably identifying him as the leader of his little band of madmen, "Interlopers! You have violated our territory, and must fall before the venomous might of Talona's faithful!"

Tavros growled, "Great… fanatics." He twisted his head toward his crossbow-wielding goon, "Take out the leader; I'll deal with his comrade."

Hefting his broadsword, Tavros charged forward, keeping his head lowered so any bullet stones would strike his steel helmet, rather than his face. Before the henchman could enter striking distance, the Talonite raised his arms and activated a spell.

A translucent tendril of red energy fired from the fanatic's palm, lashing out and striking Tavros along the face like a whip. When it made contact, Tavros was overcome with a wave of dizziness, as though gravity had been up-ended. His lack of equilibrium threw him off balance, and the man fell on his side, unable to do anything except flail his arms and legs around.

Staring up at his foe, Tavros saw the green-robed fanatic raise an arm, preparing for a second lashing.

"Bastard…" Tavros whispered, immediately regretting that he wasn't smart enough to come up with more eloquent last words.

But before the Talonite could strike with his weapon, a 'twang' sounded from behind and a crossbow bolt slammed into the fanatic's chest. The enemy immediately clutched at his wound with both hands, apparently forgetting about the crimson tendril attached to his palm. The magical whip lashed upward across the fanatic's own neck, and he soon joined Tavros in his useless flailing on the ground.

Tavros managed to roll over, providing him with a view of his crossbow-wielding ally. Having fired his only loaded shot, the goon had given the Talonite leader an opportunity to close in to striking range. The goon dropped his missile weapon and was now swinging about a short blade, trying to ward off the fanatic's approach.

The green-robed Talonite leaned from side to side, letting the goon's sword swipe by at the air. After the third miss, the fanatic struck his hand out, grasping the goon by the bare wrist. The fanatic leader uttered an arcane syllable, and Tavros heard a crackling noise echo through the air as a visible spark of electricity ran down the henchman's wrist and over his body.

Tavros saw his henchman's eyes roll up, and the Talonite finally released the man, allowing him to fall to the ground like an iron weight. The goon's chest was still moving, but he certainly wouldn't be coming around any time soon.

The Talonite glanced over at Tavros and smirked, then slowly pacing over and crouched beside the criminal.

"Your presence here shows great disrespect to the Poison Mistress." The fanatic raised a finger to his lips and licked his pointed fingernail. With a look of absolute concentration embedded in his eyes, the cultist then grabbed the side of Tavros' head and used his sharp nail to scratch a short pattern in the middle of the man's forehead.

"Nnggh!" Tavros tried to turn away, but the cultist held him steady, and the henchman could feel blood seeping down his face through the pain.

When he was finished, the fanatic chanted a short spell and removed his hands from Tavros' head. "Soon you will understand what it means to incur the wrath of Talona."

Before Tavros could try to squeeze a retort through his lips, there was a loud, metallic 'clang' from behind the cultist, and the fanatic's eyes briefly fluttered. The Talonite's body pitched forward, falling directly on top of Tavros' face.

For a few moments, the henchman's cries were muffled underneath the fanatic's robes. Suddenly, the cultist's body was rolled away, and Tavros found Dace towering above him. The steel bracers that bound the mercenary's arms were stained with a spot of blood from the back of the Talonite's head.

"Hurry up and start moving again," Dace said down to the henchman, "I do not care for interruptions in my work."

"Bastard…" Tavros wheezed again, struggling to move into a sitting position, "Why did you…?"

"You wish to know why I came back? Because I never leave a job unfinished, so long as I still have something to gain." The assassin looked away and pointed at a wooden structure across the street, "If you are so eager to lick your employer's boots, then you must follow me into that building."

Without bothering to wait or offer any assistance, the mercenary walked off, fixed toward his goal, leaving the henchman to sputter and thrash about as he attempted to get his legs to stand. Still slightly off balance, Tavros managed to climb to his feet and retrieve his sword, but had to take a few minutes to hobble over to check on his fellow henchman.

The man was still unconscious and the smoke coming from his arm was enough to sting Tavros' nostrils, but he was otherwise unharmed. Tavros grabbed the henchman's crossbow and a few bolts from the ground, then staggered after Dace, keeping the weapon aimed and ready.

"Ah, good. We will need that," Dace said when he spotted Tavros approaching with the crossbow. The aged mercenary pointed up at a tiny window on the second floor of the building. "There is a trigger switch in that alcove. Aim for a spot on the ceiling, about a foot inside the wall."

"I can't make a shot like that without being able to see the target." Tavros nonetheless pointed the crossbow at the window, all the while keeping his distance from the assassin. The bolt flew, but they heard it clank against stone and clatter to the floor inside, obviously missing the target.

As Tavros began to reload a second bolt, Dace extended his wrists and spoke, "Then give the crossbow to me, and I will make the shot."

The henchman didn't take his eyes off the mercenary as the bolt clicked into place. "Do you honestly expect me to do something so foolish?"

"I expect you to do what is rational. My loyalty has been proven." The mercenary held up the steel bracers, "It would be no difficult matter to hire a mage-smith and be rid of these bindings, but that would mean abandoning my current mission." Dace raised his head slightly and cast his gaze across the river. "And I do have a reputation to consider.

"Of course," murmured Tavros, "to shoot a crossbow like this, you would need both hands free." The henchman tightened his grip on the weapon, staring down the shaft at the mercenary.

"Then we are at an impasse," Dace said with a slight shrug, "But consider which of us is more pressed for time. I believe you have an employer who demands results. Is he willing to wait for the sun to grow cold?"

As much as he wanted to strike down the arrogant bastard then and there, Tavros had enough presence of mind to keep his anger under control. He reluctantly held out the crossbow, pointing it away toward the building, then unsheathed his sword and held it ready.

"Make your shot," he growled, "but it you turn this weapon even slightly in my direction, I will cut you down and deal with the consequences myself. I imagine it would be less unpleasant than continuing to put up with you." He glanced down at the steel bracers on Dace's wrists. "Liberatus."

As soon as the keyword was spoken, the bracers clicked and separated, freeing the mercenary's arms. Without a word, Dace swept the crossbow up, aimed at the window for a brief second, and triggered the release. The shot lanced through the air and a hollow thump echoed from within the building.

A low grinding noise could be heard from within, and there was a series of rapid 'clacks' as some internal mechanism unlocked the doors, letting them drift open slightly. Squinting past the mercenary, Tavros could see nothing but darkness within the room.

Dace tossed the crossbow to the ground and strode forward, disappearing into the dark room.

"Hold there, don't move!" Tavros shouted as he hastily retrieved the crossbow. The henchman put his sword away before quickly loading another bolt into the missile weapon.

A few sparks appeared in the shadows, then a flame burst into existence, bringing Dace's form to light in an ominous orange glow. Dace was just a few feet inside, crouching beside a bucket of torches by the wall. The mercenary planted the torch in an empty sconce on the wall and proceeded toward the other end of the room.

Peering across, Tavros could see a single worn chest and a few wooden crates stacked against the back wall.

"This is your hideout?" asked the henchman as he stepped inside, aiming his weapon at Dace. "Rather sparse. What's in the crates?"

"Enough flaming oil to completely level a wood-enforced building like this one. Try not to knock that torch." Dace kneeled beside the chest and began feeling around the hinges on the back. Presumably, he was disarming some deadly trap, but Tavros didn't relax his hold on the crossbow's release.

After a few seconds, Dace pulled back and casually flipped open the chest lid. Tavros squinted in the torch-glow and saw the mercenary draw out a long grey sash from within.

"Wait, that can't be the Sigil! It's supposed to be a medallion of some sort."

Dace tossed the sash over his shoulder. "You are correct, of course. This is, in fact, a bandolier filled with gemstones… my retirement fund." The mercenary reached into a pocket on the sash and tossed a tiny diamond in the air.

Tavros let his finger stroke the release trigger, "Bastard blackheart, you've been leading me! Where's the bloody Sigil!"

"Somewhere safe, hidden elsewhere in the city. I will recover it soon enough, but first I must deal with you."

"Strictus!" The bracers instantly snapped Dace's wrists together.

"Liberatus," countered Dace, and his arms were free again. The mercenary immediately tore off the left bracer and whipped the steel object overhand at Tavros.

The henchman ducked as the bracer flew past, at the same time pulling the trigger on his crossbow. The weapon clicked, but the quarrel didn't shoot.

Dace smirked, "Someone once taught me how to fix a crossbow latch in place so it won't release properly. Never hand a weapon to an enemy, idiot."

Breathing heavily through flared nostrils, Tavros fidgeted with the mechanism for a moment before tossing the weapon aside in disgust. He immediately drew his broadsword. "Little is changed. You still don't have a weapon, blackheart."

"Words of an amateur," Dace remarked, extending his arms out to the side. "A professional is never caught unarmed. I have all the weapons I need right here." He held up his forearms and stretched his empty fingers.

Arrogant bastard, thought the henchman as he rushed forward. Cold steel is the only way to teach this old mutt his place.

The mercenary stood his ground, measuring Tavros' distance against the potential reach of his sword. As soon as Tavros came within striking range, Dace shifted his weight to the front of his toes. When the henchman's arm pulled back slightly to make the first attack, Dace abruptly rolled his weight to his heels and leaped backward, letting the sword swish past.

Dace immediately closed in, using his left hand to grab the henchman's sword arm at the wrist, at the same time slamming his right forearm under Tavros' chin. Tavros felt his teeth clack together, and he let out a frustrated growl. He then responded by shoving forward, knocking both of them back against a stack of crates.

They were grappling too close for Tavros to swing his sword, so he instead thrust out with his free hand, seizing the mercenary by the throat. Dace coughed and frantically grabbed at Tavros' face with his right hand. It was obvious, however, that Tavros' strength far exceeded the older man.

"Any more smug words, you knave?" Tavros sneered as the steel bracer on Dace's arm pressed against the henchman's face.

Dace wheezed and spoke through his clenched jaw. "S-strictus..."

"What?" Even as Tavros spoke, it dawned on him that the other enchanted bracer had been lying on the ground back by the door. Before he could even turn to look, a hard, steel object slammed into the back of Tavros' skull, magically pulled toward its partner that was being pressed against the front of the man's head. For a moment, the entire world seemed to become an explosion of colours, and Tavros suddenly had the hazy impression that he had collapsed from the blow.

The last thing Tavros saw before blacking out was the tip of Dace's black boot, coming forward to strike him between his eyes.

(12:44)

Cerdan leaned forward and lightly Selena on the shoulder. "Turn left here, immediately after you pass that tavern. But don't ride too close to the building. That place is really a hideout for the Spider Blades, and they won't take kindly to people riding a warhorse of Tyr, you know?"

"Should I be concerned by the fact that you're so familiar with such a depraved part of criminal society?"

"Not really. I just like to keep tabs on the local gangs in this area. Believe me, the Shadow Thieves are of a much higher cut than these hoodlums." Cerdan paused to reach into his shirt pocket and remove the tracking crystal. Judging by the position of the tiny bug lights, the person they were chasing was extremely close and would probably come into view soon enough.

"In fact," he continued, "I wouldn't be surprised if our mutual foe was hired by one of these gangsters. One of the local crimelords must be feeling quite daring to think he can pull off a guild war in a single day."

"What do you keep looking at back there?" Selena suddenly asked, trying to crane her head around at him.

The thief quickly slipped the crystal away before she could see it, then smiled slyly at the priestess. "Why, the lovely curves of your body, of course."

Selena sighed to herself in disgust and shifted forward slightly on the saddle, feeling suddenly uncomfortable at the close proximity to her travelling companion.

(12:48)

Tavros awakened to the blurry sight of an assassin hovering no more than a few feet away. Dace now wore a thin black cloak over his shoulders, and had no doubt rearmed himself from the chest while Tavros was unconscious. The henchman coughed and tried to look around, but the sounds he made drew Dace's attention.

"On your feet," said the mercenary, taking a few steps closer. "Time for a walk."

Blinking several times, Tavros slowly saw the world come into focus, then tried to rub his eyes. As soon as he moved his arm, however, he realized that his wrists were tied together behind his back by a tight length of rope.

The mercenary was standing close by, fixing a single leather bracer over his left forearm. Looking past, Tavros saw that the two steel bracers had been removed and were lying on the ground near the chest. Dace experimentally flexed his wrist backward in a quick snapping motion, and a small, flat dagger shot out of a slot in the brown bracer and landed neatly in the palm of his hand.

"I normally prefer not to use this," Dace said, barely glancing at Tavros, "The last man who wore this armband accidentally slashed his own palm wide open when the spring mechanism misfired." He pushed the dagger back into the slot, and the leather bracer 'clicked' as soon as the weapon was concealed. "But I suppose I will need an edge when I head off to meet your boss."

"You think I'll help you!" Tavros spat at the mercenary's boots. "Pah, you said you'd kill me if I was ever alone and unarmed like this."

"I lied." Dace crouched down and peered into the henchman's eyes with a neutral expression. "But do not take that as a sign of mercy; you will soon find that there are fates far worse than death."

The mercenary stood and gave Tavros a swift kick in the mid-section, sending several drops of spittle flying from the henchman's lips.

Tavros wheezed several times into the dirt floor and tried to roll away, but Dace grabbed the man by the arms and hoisted him up. As soon as he was standing, Tavros saw that one of his goons, the one who was previously knocked unconscious by the Talonite leader, lay on the ground nearby in a pool of blood.

"One of your men came inside while you were out." Dace said, following Tavros' gaze. "His swordsmanship was sub-par much like your own, and it leads me to wonder what sort of incompetents you have working in your little gang."

"What are you going to do with me?"

Dace produced a dagger from beneath his cloak and shoved Tavros forward. "First, we will retrieve the precious Sigil that you wanted. Then I intend to travel straight to your base and murder your boss, along with anyone else who stands in my way." He spoke every word matter-of-factly and without a single twinge of anger.

"Why are you bothering? All we wanted was the Sigil. What we're doing doesn't concern you."

"And my deeper reasons for killing your boss do not concern you," Dace said into Tavros' face.

As they passed out the doors of the building, Dace removed the lit torch from its sconce on the wall and turned to face the inside of the guard post. He hurled the torch through the air, and it landed atop the crate full of flaming oil flasks.

"As you can see," Dace said as he pushed Tavros into a march, "I prefer not to leave loose ends for others to follow. Now we need to pay a visit to the docks district. Do not try to cross me."

His words were emphasized by a loud explosion from behind, followed by a massive wave of heat as the wooden building went up in flames. Tavros swallowed, and felt a bead of sweat form on his forehead. Things had just become far more difficult than either he or Cordas could have anticipated.

(12:53)

Every step that Norris took on his journey back to Cordas' base made his footing feel more awkward and uneven. Having lost a boot in his escape from that elven priestess, the former ranger was forced to swipe a replacement from either Shen or the Sergeant.

"And just my luck, they both wear shoes several sizes bigger than my own." He glanced down at the Sergeant's huge, unwieldy boot. It wobbled each time his foot left the ground, and felt terribly uncomfortable.

Then again, it was much better than the alternative. Anyone fool enough to walk barefoot down Southside Row was liable to get a jagged stone or a three-inch shard of glass jammed through their heels. If that wasn't bad enough, the disease-ridden filth in the dirt underfoot was likely to cause terrible flesh-rot when exposed to an open sore.

Norris was just glad that he didn't have to do any more running. In addition to his cumbersome steps, he was experiencing difficulty from the intense burning sensation that was spreading down his chest. Whenever he took a deep breath, it felt as if the top of his lungs had been set aflame.

As the ranger continued down the unpaved road, deep in his own thoughts, a grey-hooded man who was crossing the street suddenly came to a halt directly in Norris' path. The ranger said nothing and tried to angle past the man, but the stranger's hand snapped out and caught Norris by the shoulder.

"That's a quite large bandage you have over your neck. Get a nasty bug bite recently?" The stranger turned to face Norris, and the ranger saw that it was an elf. "Maybe it would be best if you came with me. I have a lady-friend who could fix that wound up, right and quick."

The elf gave a smile, and Norris immediately recoiled. It was too friendly, the elf's demeanor; terribly out of place in this destitute part of the city. One of Cordas' men come to finish him off, most likely. Norris backpedaled and started to run back the way he came.

He spun around to flee, but found himself staring into the dark eyes of a marked royal warhorse. Upon it sat the same elven priestess he met earlier. In her hands, she held a large steel mace, ready to strike at the ranger.

"Criminal," she began, "By authority of the Church of Tyr, I am hereby placing you under arrest for—"

Norris suddenly kicked his leg up, and the loose, oversized boot went flying from his foot, smacking Selena's horse between the eyes. The steed let out a startled whinny and reared back, knocking the priestess from her saddle and forcing her to grab at the reins before the movements could throw her off. Her left leg became tangled in the stirrup, and she flailed around while struggling to hang on and keep the spooked horse from galloping off.

Immediately, the hooded male elf seized the ranger by the arms from behind, further inflaming the burning pain along Norris' upper body. Clenching his jaw against the pain, the poisoned ranger snapped his head backwards, and his skull slammed into the elven rogue's nose with a wet crunch.

The sudden blow left the elf slightly stunned, and Norris stumbled forward, using the opportunity to pull free and break off, praying that his foot wouldn't land on anything sharp as he ran. Without stopping to think, Norris threw himself into the first alleyway he passed, seeking refuge once more in the shadows of Baldur's Gate.

Though he feared becoming lost in the city's labyrinthine underbelly, the ranger knew that it was better to be an aimless wolf, without purpose or drive, than to be a bound mutt at the beck and call of another. Whether that binding was to a priestess or a crimelord made little difference to him. For once, it was time to take his own path.

A sudden gust of cold wind from up ahead swept through the alleyway, forcing Norris to blink and turn his head. Peeking back over his shoulder, he could see the male elf standing just outside the alley entrance. The hooded elf had one hand clutched over his bleeding nose, while the other was frantically pointing down the alleyway as he yelled something to the priestess.

Clutching at his own neck, Norris turned his eyes forward again, and almost stopped in surprise. A dim figure now stood in the middle of the path ahead, garbed in a heavy white coat.

"Move out of my way!" Norris shouted, waving his arms at the stranger. The newcomer would not budge aside, but didn't move to intercept the oncoming ranger either. Norris continued to charge, moving closer to the wall.

When Norris was but a few seconds from passing, the man in white suddenly raised his head toward the skies and extended his arms outward from his body. In the same instant, a brilliant burst of light blossomed out from each of the stranger's open palms, forcing Norris to shield his eyes and skid to a halt.

The flash quickly cleared, and Norris warily lowered his arms and kept a safe distance. Tightly gripped in the white-coat's hands were two glowing longswords that appeared to be made entirely of golden flame. Even the hilts and crossguards looked like yellow fire, yet they didn't harm their wielder's skin. The white-coat held his blazing swords out so the tips touched each of the walls, creating smoky wisps as they burned into the stone.

"Norris Delaen, fallen ranger…" The stranger intoned the words in a deep tone that had a very slight vibration, as if there were two voices speaking slightly out of synch. He lowered his head slightly to gaze directly into the ranger's eyes. "A great injustice has been committed. Entrust your faith unto me, and I may deliver you from that which seeks to consume you."

Momentarily forgetting about the two elves behind him, Norris slowly backed away from the stranger. "Who in the hells are you? Did Cordas send you?"

"Who am I?" echoed the white-coat, "I am your saviour. You have fallen far in your lifetime, and I have been sent with a mandate to alter your fate… or you will become blind and lost in your own quest of hatred."

The stranger raised his right arm slightly, then slammed it down in an arc, drawing a line of black ash and sparks as his weapon streaked against the wall. He raised his head toward the elves that were quickly approaching from behind the ranger.

There was a sad expression in the man's eyes, and a slight smile appeared at the corner of his lips. "You need run from your past no longer, fallen one. There is no choice here. For good or for ill, it rests upon you to finally face these present events, and in doing so, determine the path of our future…"

(1:00 PM)