"Sarevok!! By the sacred oaths of Silvanus, is there no end to you?" Jaheira's words did an accurate job of expressing the sentiment that everyone, with perhaps the exclusion of Aerie, felt upon seeing the visage of their old foe once again. Jaheira's spear rose to meet the apparition's face, her flashing eyes never leaving him, wary of any attacks or malice. "You taint the very land with your presence- must your foulness be stomped out ever to return?!"
His bellowing laugh did nothing to improve the druid's fiery temper; Greywulf stayed at the ready, expecting another attack from their repeated nemesis, but his eyes bore less the fear of battle and more the weary acceptance of one who's life has few surprises left to offer. "I honestly don't believe this... you have got to be kidding."
That voice, still echoing through the air, was enough to convince him of the nature of that which stood before them. Many had attempted to play on his memories of the past, old faces of both friend and foe, and Greywulf liked to think he had gotten fairly good at spotting the fakes, which happened to be most of them. Something inside him was telling him though... this was no fake. No conjured vision to try and get inside his head, no mental fear that he had to face in order to pass. This was the man that they had killed nearly two years ago. This was the man they'd fought in the Realm of Hell a month ago. Despite the indistinct form, the blurred lines and the floating above the ground, there could be no mistake. He wore the same bladed armor, the same Bhaal-skull helmet. His eyes still glowed yellow under the cover of his helmet. This was Sarevok Anchev, the Deathbringer.
He seemed to be relishing the horrified attention he was getting from the group as a whole, the fearful anticipation of what terrors he planned to unleash upon his hated enemies; Greywulf was disinclined to let him carry out whatever plot he undoubtedly had, one which would almost certainly end with mortal combat. He was about to say something before Minsc turned to him, Silver Sword at guard. "Should we begin fighting? If we are to battle again, Minsc would know now."
Greywulf turned back to Sarevok, and in response, raised a hand, beginning the process of summoning a Horrid Wilting. "He raises a good point, Sarevok. Kill him."
Minsc's war cry was teeth-rattling in its intensity, and Greywulf was scarcely able to keep track of what took place in those brief moments before his spell reached fruition. Minsc was a blur as he leapt forward, sword arcing to cut Sarevok's indistinct form from hip to shoulder. Jaheira's rush was not a second after- her spear aimed straight for the unprotected face. A fireball exploded upon the ground beneath Sarevok's floating form once Jaheira and Minsc were clear of the blast radius, and Aerie's divine magics brought a pillar of fire from the skies to rain down upon the embattled spectre. Before the flames could subside, Greywulf's spell finished, and he hurled the brown skull with all his might. A 'whumph' of magic erupted as the skull exploded, brown dust obscuring the area where Sarevok had floated a few moments ago. Jaheira took a tentative step forward, squinting into the smoke to try and spot their foe. It had been, for all intents and purposes, a flawless assault. He had not moved a muscle, and each attack had struck precisely as it had been intended.
In retrospect, it was something of a shame, considering how futile the efforts actually were. Jaheira spat a curse as she backed away, the dust and the fire fading to reveal the wraith, faded and more distorted than before, but nonetheless present. Sarevok grunted, and with what looked like a strain of effort, his features smoothed again, becoming as he had been before their attack. "Away with you, fools. I have waited a long time to speak with Greywulf, and I shall not be interrupted by your futile attempts at destroying my spirit."
The sorcerer in question glowered at Sarevok's wraith, his face a mixture of anger, frustration and despair. "Answer me this. Didn't we kill you in Hell? For a second time? What, may I ask, does it take to get rid of your damned presence?! Or are we just destined to repeat this little feud for all eternity?"
"Be careful what you say... prophecies have a way of expressing themselves in such uncaring statements." Sarevok sneered, floating closer to his half-brother. "Yes... you did kill me in Hell, though that was no fault of my own. It was you who summoned me, and since then I have done nothing but wait for your return. As far as what it takes to get rid of me... far more power than you possess. You might be able to damage this form that I have willed into existence, but it is a simple matter to reform myself. You cannot banish me completely."
Sarevok was interrupted by an arrow that zipped through his ethereal head, leaving a neat hole that filled itself in moments, Sarevok glowering darkly at Imoen as she drew another arrow. "I said that it was a simple matter to reform myself... not that it was a pleasant one."
"Maybe I can't get rid of you..." Greywulf considered quietly, glancing at Aerie with a knowing nod, "But you're still undead..."
"And I have a way with such creatures." Aerie said in an echoing voice, her eyes glowing white as she raised a hand, mist rising around the elven girl as she brought her clerical powers over the undead to bear. "Begone, spirit!"
For a moment, there was nothing but silence- Sarevok broke it with a raucous laugh, shaking his head in disgust. "Do you think so little of me? That I am one of those pathetic undead creatures that haunt the mortal realms? I am nothing but a shade, and as you seem so slow to realize, you do not have the power to force me to leave your home"
"Then what, may I ask, do you want?" Greywulf grimace, his teeth grinding together. This man was able to raise his ire like no other- Sarevok had been the cause of so much suffering in his life, there were few others, perhaps only Jon Irenicus and the vampire Bodhi who had been able to trigger such a reaction from the normally even-tempered half-elf. "And what are you doing here in the first place? Did you bring us here?"
"Did I-?" Sarevok seemed slightly surprised by the question, then settled in place, a broad smile crossing his dark features. "Heh... hehehaha!!! Such irony... unbelievable, really. You have no clue where you are or how you got here. For all the power you have amassed over these past years, you have learned absolutely *nothing* of your true potential, of the taint that rests in your blood."
A bolt of lightning thundered across the hellish plane, jumping from Imoen's hand as it tore a hole through Sarevok's body. The wraith looked down at the hole, the ethereal flesh and armor slowly reforming once more, Sarevok snarling at the smirking Imoen. "Do not do that again."
"If you want me to stop poking holes in yer little ghost body, then maybe you should stop taunting and start explaining things." Imoen countered. "For starters, where are we?"
Sarevok paused, as though considering disobeying Imoen's orders to merely spite her, but whether simply tiring of the game or spurred to action by Imoen drawing another arrow to her bow, he finally, a disgusted tone in his voice, spoke. "To think that the two of you stumble about, blind to your true power, while I am reduced to this. Bah! Very well, I shall tell you where you are. As the angel told you, this is part of our father's abyssal realm; the plane once ruled by Bhaal and now given form by the taint within your soul... but no longer present in mine. You have been here before, when you hunted the mage who had absconded with your soul."
"I had thought Irenicus was responsible for creating that plane of existence..." Jaheira said with a frown, before Sarevok shook his head, presumably in disgust at the ignorance of those around him.
"Have you heard nothing of what I said? The mage took Greywulf's soul, not his taint. It is the taint which gives this place form, and the taint which prevents you from being torn apart by the powers of the Realm of Bhaal. You would not survive more than a few moments, if that, in the true Realm of Murder. This is a... a cocoon, of sorts. A miniature version of our father's larger realm, sort of a plane-within-a-plane. I assume that your mind formed it to protect you all from the power of this place, power you cannot yet control. Rather ingenious, dear brother... I would not have thought you clever enough for such a thing."
"Ehh... Minsc has lost himself in all this talk of planes and outer realms." the ranger shook his head in confusion. "Boo would simply know what it is that the evil warrior wants!"
"What I want? Come now, are you all so truly stupid?" Sarevok shook his head. "I come to offer you a deal... my aid, in return for your assistance in restoring myself to life."
Again, naught but silence. This time, however, broken by Greywulf, the sorcerer throwing his head back and laughing long and loud. Sarevok watched blankly, waiting for Greywulf to finish, wiping a tear from his eye as he regarded Sarevok with what looked like faint amusement now. "I'm sorry... really. It's just that I haven't laughed that hard in a while. Still, I'll play along. Let's say, for kicks and giggles, that I gave this idea of yours serious consideration. Neither Aerie nor Jaheira is strong enough to resurrect the dead- just how do you propose we being you back? And while we're at that, just how long would it be after you came back to life that I'd have a sword lodged in my head?"
"You think I'd waste another chance at life on simple efforts of revenge? If I killed you here, your comrades would slay me... assuming I even managed to bring you low." the admission of his inability to kill them was the first sign of weakness they had ever heard pass from his lips- their surprise at his words was enough for them to remain quiet while he continued. "Whether you believe me or not, revenge is not my motivation here. As for how to bring life back to my spirit, I would need a gift... the smallest fraction of your soul, brother. The tiniest piece of your spirit, given freely, with the taint and the spark of our dead father within. That would recreate my flesh, restore my mortality... I, Sarevok would live again!"
"All the time you've spent here in Hell must have made you daft, or driven you insane." Jaheira snapped, though she moved to Greywulf's side protectively, as though fearful that the wraith would reach out and take what he desired by force. "We have killed you twice, to date… what makes you think we would ever want to bring you back to life?"
"I do not come to the table empty-handed. Do you think me a fool? You are... you are stronger than me. I do not contest that." Sarevok admitted rather grudgingly. "But I can help you. And that has its price."
"What makes the evil specter think that Minsc and friends need help?" the ranger peered down at Sarevok, folding his broad arms as Boo scampered onto his left shoulder. "Boo has all the guidance that Minsc needs."
"Hah! The ignorance I have seen is only exceeded by your naiveté." Sarevok snorted in disgust. "Still, if you need proof that I will be of use, go and try to leave this place. Explore, do what you can. I will be waiting for you here when you realize the full extent of your helplessness."
His challenge, the contempt in his voice was infuriating, but at the same time, the man was not known for bluffing. When he made threats, he was more than able to back them up... Greywulf did not budge, but instead glanced toward the others. "Minsc, Jaheira... go ahead and check out those staircases. Im, Aerie... take a peek at that doorway beyond. I'll keep an eye on our guest here."
The other four, reluctantly, moved to do what he said, leaving the two siblings to their silent gaze- neither rival moving a muscle. Sarevok was trying hard not to laugh at the sorcerer, veritably squirming under the pressure of Sarevok's words. How it must have rankled the mage to not only tolerate his presence, but admit that he needed Sarevok's help. Probably as much as it rankled him to admit that Greywulf and his company were stronger than he. Still, he would enjoy this moment to its fullest, and it would be all the sweeter when Greywulf, the man who had sworn to kill Sarevok, was forced to bring him back to life. Granted, the possibility always existed that they would kill him once they had his aid in leaving this place... but he doubted it. They weren't the type. Far too honest, far too ready to abide by their word. Were it he in Greywulf's place... he'd resurrect the mage, get whatever help he needed, then cut his head off, regardless of any promises.
Those eyes... so penetrating, so unsettling. It was said the eyes were the gateway to a man's soul, and looking into them could tell you the measure of a man, could tell you whether he was lying or whether he was a coward. Sarevok's glowing yellow orbs gave nothing away. Try as he might, he could gain nothing, no feeling or inkling of the man's motivations, no matter how he studied the man who had killed Gorion. He felt his anger rise again, but he pushed it away, unwilling to let the rage he felt for Sarevok cloud his judgment. No doubt the man was counting on it- well, he'd simply have to disappoint. He would find out just what Sarevok was up to, and when he had, he'd know how to handle it. If that meant resurrecting the villain... he'd done worse things. If it meant resurrecting the villain and then killing him afterwards... well, that wasn't exactly a battle Greywulf would relish, but he'd be damned if Sarevok ruined another life the way he'd ruined his and Imoen's.
The sound of Minsc grunting as he swung his blade against the magical barriers protecting the stairways echoed back to the pair, as did the frightened yelp of Aerie as the jagged maw surrounding the doorway in the middle of the realm slammed shut upon her attempt to peer inside. Sarevok glanced behind him at Aerie and Imoen, the thief-mage holding Aerie by the arms, making sure she was okay- he turned back to Greywulf with a smug, knowing smile. "I told you, brother. You need my help, like it or not. Hmm- if it will make you feel better, know that the idea of depending on you repulses me as well."
"Oh, but it does." Greywulf snapped as the others slowly, reluctantly, returned to his side, admitting defeat. "So. How can you help us?"
"The knowledge of how to leave this plane of yours, for starters. That is one thing I can give you, although I did not know that when I came here. No, what I think you will find most useful- and beneficial to your continued survival, for that matter- knowledge that is much more relevant to your destiny, to the time that is now upon us. Knowledge that dates back to my mortal days when I was gaining power within the Iron Throne." Sarevok folded his ethereal arms, confident in his own position of bargaining. "I see the hesitation in your eyes, and I tell you the truth; I know where your destiny lies and I know where you must go to find it. Search about on your own and it will soon be too late…the time of the old prophecies is upon us, that much is clear. Or upon *you*, at least. What say you?"
"I say that you are a liar that would say and do anything to further your own ends." Jaheira growled, her animosity towards Sarevok open and unabashed. Were he alive, it was not clear whether she would strike him where he stood. He had scarcely seen her so infuriated; whether it was at the arrogance and self-assuredness of their foe, or the simple thought of truly bringing him back to life after all he had done... she could not bear it. Would not bear it. And on any other day of the week, Greywulf would have been right there with him. But now... after what the Solar had told him-
It was true. Only hours ago, he had been pondering the path that destiny was sweeping Imoen and him down. The entire purpose of going to the elven grove had been to discover more of the prophecies and how the two siblings fit into them. The attempt on their lives had done nothing but convince him that finding the truth was of even greater import than ever... and here was a chance to take a step in that direction. A leap, even. Making a deal with the devil... could it be done, and not come back to haunt them?
"You won't do it, will you?" Aerie asked, her tones breaking Greywulf from his concentration. She looked at him, and he saw fear in the Avariel's eyes. She had come so far, but Sarevok... she had not faced him back in Baldur's Gate, and did not know just how dark, just how evil this monster truly was. And yet... she could see evil. She could feel the darkness within him. And she was afraid. "You told me of the thousands he killed while alive… won't he just do the same if we bring him back? Please... don't do this."
Her tone was almost a plea- and again, Greywulf wanted nothing more than to agree, to cast this murderer out. He had killed so many in cold blood... Gorion had been foremost among those murders. His fist clenched at the thought and the red tinted the corners of his vision. No... calm. Peace. He had to be at peace when dealing with this man. Far too easy to let emotion govern his actions, to let the rage he kept inside loose.
"And just... just what do you intend to do with your new life?" Greywulf managed, forcing the tightness in his chest to subside. "As if we couldn't guess."
"Perhaps not." Sarevok replied quietly, the tiniest bit of uncertainty tainting his confident tones. "I… I do not know. Avoid crossing you, brother, certainly that. My ambition was everything, once; you know this as well as anyone. But now that the taint is gone, I am unsure. But I wish to live, that much is certain. I wish to live."
"You will not do this, Greywulf. Do not. Whatever he says, whatever promises he makes, they are nothing to him. He will betray you, and you know it." Jaheira said, her voice like two stones grinding together. "We can find another way..."
"But can we find one in time?" Greywulf turned to face her, the desperation he felt showing on his face. "We need what he's offering. We can't wait forever, and we don't have time to search for these things. He can tell us what we... what I, need to know."
"Isn't that... isn't that kind of the point?" Aerie pointed out, shaking her head in disapproval. "Wouldn't he... I mean, from everything you've told me... wouldn't he say exactly what you wanted to hear if he thought it would get you to help him?"
"And don't forget what he's asking for." Imoen grabbed Greywulf's arm, worry in her eyes. "Remember what Irenicus did to us? What he took? He's asking for the same thing, part of your soul. That's no small gift, especially for scum like him."
It was, at that. After losing his soul, there was no way he'd take something like this lightly. Not that he would've no matter what the cost. Still, he had the sinking feeling that Sarevok was telling the truth, at least about this. Resurrections were tricky things- adding Bhaal-taint to the equation would only intensify any problems with resurrecting someone so long dead. Times like these... he missed Keldorn's voice of reason, of wisdom more than ever.
"Is... is that it? No other way to resurrect you?" he felt as though he knew the answer before the former Child of Bhaal spoke... but the hesitation was enough to surprise Greywulf. Sarevok's face had grown oddly curious, as though a strange thought had entered his mind, a concept he had not considered previously.
"Hmm... perhaps. Perhaps there might be another way at that." Sarevok's lips spread in a thin smile, his yellow gaze turning to fix on Imoen. "To restore myself, it would not necessarily require a portion of *your* taint. Any small piece of the Bhaal essence that was freely given would suffice."
The import of what Sarevok had just said took a moment to register, but soon everyone's attention was on Imoen, a look of hesitant fear on the young woman's face.
"He… he's talking about me, isn't he? About the Bhaal taint that's been growing inside me." she said softly, Aerie drawing near with ardent disapproval expressed in her elven features.
"Indeed- and while the idea of harboring a sugary sweet part of your soul inside me for eternity does not exactly thrill me," Sarevok said, his voice dripping with disdain, "It would also be enough to accomplish this… though I doubt our dear sister here has half the courage necessary to do the job."
"I'm not as sweet as you think!" Imoen shouted, pulling away from Aerie as she glared angrily at Sarevok. "You don't even deserve a second chance at life! You killed Gorion, remember? Or was that just another murder on the way to your power, huh?!"
"Indeed it was." Sarevok replied calmly, showing no discomfort at all. "I killed him, just as I killed hundreds of others on that road. For all the impact his death had on your lives... for me, he was an obstacle. Something to be destroyed and discarded."
His callous words were almost enough to push Greywulf over the edge- he began to peak with strangled fury, "You dare-?"
"Indeed I do, because in the end you are no better than I." Sarevok cut him off, giving the furious sorcerer a withering stare. "Ask yourself... how many have you killed to get here? How many has Imoen killed? Just how many were nothing more than obstacles to be destroyed and discarded? I don't speak of monsters or mindless creatures, I talk about men and women like your Gorion, those who were doing what they thought was right, for whatever reason, selfish or not. How many souls rot in the Abyss from your spells and swords? The only difference between you and I is that I have chosen to face this fact. You have ignored it, and cower in the face of its truth. I would pity you, were I capable of it."
Greywulf wanted to shout a rebuttal, to deny it all with such vehemence that Sarevok would never dare try and compare them again... but the cries died on his lips. For all his taunting, for all his wickedness, Sarevok was right, and he knew it. All of them had done their share of blood-letting... intentional or not, it had given them power, brought them to this point in time. He hadn't had a choice, most of the time, but in the end, the body count remained the same. The blood was still on their hands.
He turned to glance at Imoen, and as their gazes met, they both saw the truth in one another's eyes. As vile as the thought was... they needed him. And one of the two had to make the choice. After everything they'd been through to reclaim their souls- one of them had to give up a part of it once more, all for a man they'd let rot in an instant. Imoen swallowed, and Greywulf saw the intent in her eyes; he shook his head, immediately unwilling to let her make such a sacrifice. "Imoen, no. I refuse to let you make that sacrifice for him. There's got to be another way."
"But there isn't." Imoen cut him off. "Not unless you do the same. And in the end, it's not your decision to make."
"Then I'll make it my decision." Greywulf insisted, reaching out with a hand to halt her from approaching Sarevok any further. He paused a moment to look back at Sarevok, his wraith watching the events with faint amusement. "No way he's hurting you, not after everything that-"
A blaze of pinkish-red rippled through the air around Greywulf, freezing him to the spot without warning. The sound of the Power Word faded into nothingness as Imoen walked past Greywulf, pausing briefly to look back at his frozen body with an apology. "Sorry... but I'm not letting you take this one for me. This is important… and if you think it's necessary, then I'll do it. You risked everything to save me from Bodhi… and that means I'm willing to give it all back again if need be. Besides... heh, it's about time Im gets to play the hero, right?"
"Child, just what do you think you're doing?!" Jaheira took a step towards Imoen, shaking her head in disapproval, laying one hand on her shoulder. "You-"
Imoen uttered another Power Word, and Jaheira found herself frozen to the spot, her hand shrugged off Imoen's shoulder without any trouble. Imoen glanced at Aerie and Minsc, a pained look in her eyes. "Tell me I'm not gonna have to stun you two."
"Imoen!" Aerie exclaimed, wild protest in her eyes. "I... no. No, you won't."
Minsc shook his head gravely, leaving his witch's side to embrace Imoen gently, nodding in acceptance of her decision. "Minsc trusts you, little one."
She smiled weakly, then turned back to the leering gaze of Sarevok, towering over here, even in spirit form. He removed his helmet, revealing the bald head and tattooed face underneath as he warned, "Are you sure of this, girl? This must be a willing sacrifice on your part. You cannot turn back later and claim it was Greywulf using you."
"Absolutely." Imoen glared at him defiantly. "I would die for Greywulf, and more. Maybe you'll learn what it's like to have that kind of family someday, 'brother'."
"I'm sure that with part of your soul inside me, I'll be prancing gaily through flower fields in no time." Sarevok snorted. "Nonetheless, I'll take that as a yes."
Sarevok discarded the helmet, then reached out, taking Imoen's hand with surprising solidness, lifting it so that the tips of her fingers touched his forehead...
A blast of light ignited as soon as they connected, a shock wave that flung both spirit and living back. Minsc leapt out and caught Imoen,, preventing her from tumbling head over heels on the rocky cavern ground; he helped her to her feet, Imoen obviously shaken by the experience but showing no signs of weakness or otherwise that might have called the veracity of Sarevok's words into question. Aerie had unconsciously taken a few steps back as she watched the spirit on his hands and knees slowly begin to materialize- she bumped into Greywulf, both he and Jaheira freed from the effects of the spell by a dispel from Imoen herself. Greywulf watched Sarevok with a hard stare as what was once ghostly slowly became solid, the apparition becoming distinct until there was no doubt in their minds. It was a living, breathing being that climbed to his feet before them, wild joy shining across his face as he took a long, deep breath, the first time in so long.
"I... I live! Flesh and blood and bone! I am alive again!!" Sarevok shouted, laughing wildly as he raised his hands in triumph. "I swore I would scratch and crawl my way back into the world of the living…and I have done it!"
"Sarevok lives again." Jaheira whispered to Greywulf, shooting Imoen a glare of disapproval that turned to anger as she returned her gaze to Sarevok, the man glorying in his newfound life. "You and Imoen had your reasons, and I understand them... but I shall never agree with this decision. Ever."
"Bah... my sword has not reappeared, and this armor is worthless without the power of Bhaal coursing through them." Sarevok continued with a hint of disdain, oblivious to Jaheira's comments as he looked himself over. "I shall make do without them, as I once did. Thank you, Greywulf. I am pleased."
"Don't thank me. Thank Imoen." Greywulf exhaled, doubling up Jaheira's initial look of disapproval with one of his own as his sister finally got her balance back, Minsc walking her forward until they were beside Aerie.
"Indeed." he smirked and bowed to Imoen. "My deepest gratitude belongs to you, sister. I shall treasure this small piece of you within me always."
"You'd better…" Imoen warned, frowning with a bit of uncertainty. "Though… I don't feel any different. I would have thought-"
"Did I not say it was an insignificant portion?" Sarevok reminded. "I suspected that doing it here, in this place, it might work… but I was not sure. It is good to see that I was correct after all."
Imoen recoiled in angry disbelief, before stepping forward with fury in her features, "You weren't sure?! You mean you bluffed me out of giving up part of my soul for you?!!"
"I did not get to where I was in life without risk, fool." Sarevok growled back, raising an armored hand to halt her advance. "Call it what you will, but I had enough knowledge to guess that it would work, and so I was proven correct. What is done is done, and your impotent rage will solve nothing further, other than lead you to a premature death at my hands. I imagine that the rest of you, at least, are eager to hear what I have to say."
Sarevok turned his back on the fuming Imoen, then gestured toward the doorway that she and Aerie had investigated earlier, its cavernous maw having creaked open after they left, and was once again beckoning with its star filled abyss. "That... that is the exit to this place, as you may have guessed. Because this plane is an extension of the taint within Greywulf, he alone may command its opening and closing. You must will it, and it will happen." Having turned away from the others, they could not see the slight smirk emerge on Sarevok's features. He was telling the truth... to a point. Those with the will, the knowledge, and the taint within, could also shape the realm. Not to the extent Greywulf could, but to a point. It would have been remarkably difficult for them to leave had they not resurrected Sarevok- he had, after all, been exerting very ounce of willpower he could muster to keeping that doorway closed.
"Fair enough," Greywulf said, and the tone of voice he spoke with made Sarevok pause a moment- he knew. He knew Sarevok was lying, at least partially. The boy was good. Better than the last time they'd met in flesh, that was certain. He would have to take greater care around his half-brother... it would seem he was not quite as much a fool as it seemed. "And what of the barred stairways? Any ideas about them?"
Well. The best defense was a good offense, wasn't it? He turned and gave Greywulf a withering look, shaking his head in a mixture of annoyance and contempt. "Have you heard nothing? This place is yours to command. Yours to control. But those... those passageways are different, aren't they? Yes... I can feel the conflicting energies within them. They are not for you to open when you want them... but when you need them. Ah... I see now. Much like your destiny, in and of itself."
Echoing over Sarevok's voice, the sound of one of the shimmering walls of energy dissipating got the attention of the group, who watched the barrier fall, then returned their attention to a smugly satisfied warrior. "Did I not speak the truth? You know as much of these chambers of testing as I. You faced five when searching for the mage that took your soul... if you seek further answers, I suggest you investigate them. It may be dangerous... another thing I should mention is that your ability to transport here is not limited to simply yourself- you may bring others here as well to assist you, assuming your fates have been suitably intertwined. How do you think the others followed you so easily?"
"Honestly, I'd rather not summon anyone else into this miniature plane of Hell, if I can avoid it." Greywulf countered, not saying what he was really thinking. And knowing you, it would just summon hordes of the undead or a throng of beholders. "You said you knew about my destiny. Talk."
If the big man found Greywulf's demanding, hostile tones offensive, he did not show it. Rather, he seemed almost to take a perverse pleasure in the not-quite-suppressed animosity brewing between the two of them. He tugged on the heavy metal gauntlets he wore, flexing his fingers beneath as he spoke. "I said it before- your destiny is not yours to claim when you desire it, but when you need it. You may leave this plane of yours at any time, but it will not take you back to wherever it is you were wasting your time. It will take you where you need to be... Saradush."
"I recognize the name." Jaheira murmured, frowning as she dug into her memories. "A city of Tethyr, near the south, past the Marching Mountains. It has been some time since anything of import has happened in that place- why should we wish to go there?"
"In my youth, I spent much of my time looking into the old lore of the dead Bhaal priesthood." Sarevok answered, folding his arms. "I did not become a Grand Duke based on skill of arms alone- I spent years honing my intelligence and my wits as well. One of the old prophecies was uncovered in a somewhat... uncooperative, sect of Cyric. Needless to say, they were willing to share their knowledge with the right persuasion."
"And just what did they have to say?" Greywulf cut him off, unwilling to hear any of the bloody tales Sarevok no doubt had in abundance. "I doubt they just threw out the name Saradush for you to follow and track down."
"No, not quite." Sarevok admitted. "The language of the prophecy was archaic, and it took many days of study before I was able to determine the location they spoke of. But it is Saradush, of that there is no doubt. The Sword Coast will run red with blood... and the mouth of the river shall flow from that city. It is where the first step of the prophecy for the Children of Bhaal will unfold."
"You said you studied the prophecies... they didn't mention any of the Bhaalspawn by name, or however it is you found Saradush, did they?" Imoen asked, still angry with the man but curious despite herself.
A heavy chuckle came from Sarevok's throat as he shook his head, his eyes flashing in response. "They do... in a manner of speaking. It is impossible to tell just who they speak of until it is too late- but they mention the power that one of the Children will attain, and it all begins in Saradush."
"And I'll bet yer just hoping that you turn out to be that person, hmm?" Imoen shot back with a frown.
Her words made Sarevok pause, a rare enough sight that all took notice. He chose his next words carefully before speaking. "No... perhaps, but it is impossible, now. Bhaal's essence left me as I died- a sight that I'm sure you were present for. That which has been given to me does nothing more than maintain my mortality. Some might consider me a Bhaalspawn still... but I am not. It is solely a matter of history and memory, nothing more."
"Minsc has a question." the ranger said, stepping forward to peer at Sarevok carefully, though it had been some time since Minsc had met someone he could almost look at eye-level. "How do we know that everything you say is not an evil lie to trick us? Boo does not like being lied too, and neither does Minsc."
"Heh... hah!" Sarevok barked a laugh, chuckling lightly before turning deadly serious. "Of course you cannot trust me. Why would you? If you want assurance that I have not lied to you, then there is but one way to do so. Take me with you."
"Take you with us?!" Imoen exclaimed in disbelief. "So you can betray us, stab us in the back? I know ya don't think too much of us, but don't treat us like complete morons!"
"I was once certain that the old prophecies centered around me. Even if that is no longer the case, I know more about them than perhaps anyone. I can help you- with the challenge in that room and more. Of course... I do this for no selfless reason." Sarevok said, a feral, almost hungry grin beginning to grow on his face. "I desire power. I have always desired power. And where could I gain more than at your side, in your wake? I am sure I am not the first to tell you this- there is no better opportunity for me elsewhere. For all the grudges we might bear for one another, you defeated me long ago, and have earned my respect. Think of it, Greywulf! Brother and brother, side by side!"
"Skip the dramatics, Sarevok, I'm not impressed." Greywulf growled, not believing what he was hearing. "Why would we possibly want to keep you with us? What could make you think we'd even consider the prospect?!"
"Per your first question, aside from the knowledge I retain, I am a warrior of no small ability. You fought me- you would know. I have only become stronger from my time in Hell. Under one such as you, I could be greater, still." Sarevok said with a knowing smile. "As for your other question- where would you be right now, without me? Still wandering about this plane, trying hopelessly to find an exit. By the time you escaped, the power of the other Children would have dwarfed yours so completely that you would be but dust under their feet. It is I who has saved your place in the annals of history, and if you still maintain the foolish notion that you can somehow... 'save' the Realms from the Bhaalspawn, then you will need my knowledge, and my blade."
That was the damnable thing about arguing with this man, something that Greywulf had learned in just a few moments. He didn't necessarily have to lie to you to get under your skin. The truth was far more effective... and in those last few sentences, he had spoken nothing but the truth. Every reason he'd given was valid, every point flawless. If it were anyone else... well, almost anyone else, he'd have nodded, said 'Come aboard,' and they'd have been on their way. But it was Sarevok. Sarevok, Gorion's killer. The one who had haunted his dreams for years after their first meeting. The man who above every other foe, was inextricably linked to him, the one who had sent him on this path in the first place.
"No. No deal. I won't have you following behind us, ready to slit our throats as soon as it suits you. You've got your life, and once we get out of this place, you're on your own." Greywulf said firmly, and he could have sworn he heard a sigh of relief from one or more of his comrades. They'd been afraid he'd say yes, that he would allow the man passage with them. How could they assume he'd be so naive?
"I had a feeling you might say that." Sarevok nodded, shrugging mildly. "If it will help ease your suspicions, I will take an oath to follow you. Here, in this place, an oath would have power, much like a geas. I could not betray you."
And just like that, Greywulf found himself right back where he started. Damn, he's good.
For a moment, Greywulf did not speak, only studied Sarevok, trying to feel his deceit, his ulterior motive for this offer. He stretched out with all his might, seeking the damning evidence and feelings that would allow him to slam Sarevok's offer into the ground again… and he could not find it. The aura of evil was still there, there was no denying; Sarevok was a warrior of darkness through and through. But lies, deceptions… none of it could he sense in the man's words. He was indeed a great warrior, better than Minsc, better than Solaufein or Keldorn. Possibly the greatest he had ever seen. He was even willing to undergo a geas to follow him-
"Greywulf, can we have a word with you?"
Jaheira's cold voice cut through his thoughts as he noticed her and the others off away from Sarevok, awaiting his arrival. He nodded and followed, readying himself for the tongue-lashing he would receive as soon as the others knew that he was-might be- considering this possibility.
"You're *not* seriously considering this." Jaheira warned, her eyes widening when he failed to answer immediately. "You are, aren't you! What is the matter with you, whelp? Have you gone mad?! Have you forgotten how long he tried to kill us, how long we tried to kill him? What could possibly make you want to take him with us?"
"I didn't sense any lies in his words, Jaheira-" he began, cut off before he could say any more.
"Did our experience with Yoshimo teach you nothing?!" she sputtered. "Am I the only one who sees the folly in this?"
"I don't like this either, Greywulf." Aerie said, shaking her head. "I feel the evil clinging to him… the way he looks and acts. The things you've told me about him, the bloodthirstiness; he killed Gorion, right? Don't take him with us."
"He did kill Gorion." Greywulf conceded with a sharp intake of breath. "And I don't think I'll ever be able to forget that. Or forgive it. But he paid for it… we avenged his death and killed Sarevok for it. Yes, he's evil… but so is the creature inside me."
"That's different, and you know it." Imoen shook her head. "You've tried to contain that evil your whole life; Sarevok's tried to feed it."
"All the more reason we should keep an eye on him. If we just send him on his way... who knows how he'll interfere. He knows too much of the Bhaal-prophecies to be left to his own devices. If we take him with us, even if it's just for a while, we can make sure he's not doing what we fear he will." Greywulf reasoned. It was getting far too easy to justify this decision to himself. "Besides… from a purely tactical standpoint, we need to replenish our forces. Ever since we lost Keldorn and Solaufein-"
The logic was cold and unfeeling, and he knew it. Aerie looked hurt, and Jaheira nearly turned on her heel and walked away. Imoen finally raised her hands in surrender, nearly pleading with him. "Why, though? Why do we have to do this? You can use whatever power you've got here and summon other people... Mazzy, or Valygar, or Anomen!"
"Why are you so insistent on this, Greywulf?" Aerie asked, unable to understand. He met her gaze, her desperate search to see just what he was thinking, just what twisted logic he'd come up with to justify bringing one of their greatest enemies with them. It would be like bringing Irenicus with them. He could only imagine the longer road that would turn into.
"I... I don't know, okay." he confessed. "You've heard his reasons, and you've heard my reasons. Believe me when I say that I don't want him with us any more than you do, but this is a decision I have to make. And I say he comes. With or without your approval."
The final tone of Greywulf's words suggested the same determination that had served him and kept him alive so far… a determination they knew he would not turn from, nor could they turn him from by words alone. Imoen sighed and turned away, striding back to Sarevok, followed by Aerie. Jaheira glared for a moment longer, then leaned in towards him, speaking quietly, calmly. "Fine. Take him with us if you must. It is your mistake to make. I refuse to acknowledge him… and I will be there to rescue you when this disaster blows up in your face."
Greywulf exhaled, watching as the others left, leaving only Minsc still at his side. "Well Minsc… what about you?"
"I think… I think that you are Minsc's friend. I think that Boo and I have trusted you so far… and we will trust you in this. I also think that Minsc does not approve of the oath. Our funny friend Yoshimo did bad things under the oath. You are not like Irenicus... but a man should be free to follow his own heart, and such things are not possible under oaths such as this. Perhaps this makes Minsc foolish... but Boo does not think so." the ranger considered.
It came as something of a shock to Greywulf, hearing those words from Minsc. It was easy to forget that underneath the childlike exterior, the hamster-crazed madness... Minsc had more than a few nuggets of wisdom to share when you least expected it. And again, for all intents and purposes, Minsc was right. He'd seen the destructive power that a geas could cause in a man's life... he'd felt it himself, underneath Adalon's thumb. He'd refused to let the elves of Suldenesselar do it to Solaufein... could he force one on Sarevok? It wasn't too much to expect that the evil warrior might find a way out of it regardless, but he did profess to have some... if very, very, slight, sense of honor and respect. He respected Greywulf... and that was what would keep him loyal, oath or no. Would forcing him to swear the geas increase that respect? Decrease it? Hell with it. I'm making a choice right now.
He turned and walked back with Minsc toward the others, looking at the ardent disapproval on their faces. "All right, Sarevok. I'm satisfied… and there's no need for an oath. Join us and we'll go." If the others, sans Minsc, could shoot lasers from their eyes, Greywulf knew that he'd be little more than a crisped pile of ashes... but to his great surprise, none of the others spoke, or interjected, or tried to stop him, and so he quickly focused on Sarevok again, trying not to show weakness.
Sarevok, on the other hand, actually looked a shade doubtful, frowning as he spoke. "You… will not require an oath? An odd choice, brother. I would have required it of you, had I even let you live after telling me what you knew." Not helping my case, Sarevok. "As you wish, then…let us attend to your challenge and then proceed to your destiny."
"You'll need armor and weapons too." Greywulf continued, ignoring the gut feelings that screamed at him the wrongness of it all. "Minsc, in the Bag of Holding... give him the Red Dragon Scale and the Sword of Chaos."
Sarevok's eyes flashed as Minsc unloaded the two items from the extra-dimensional container they'd acquired while investigating the Planar Sphere in Athkatla. The mighty armor forged from the scales of the red wyrm Firkraag, alongside the two-handed sword they had taken from Sarevok's corpse the first time they had fought.
"You kept my old blade; a trophy of our battle, I assume? I never thought to see this sword again." Sarevok said slowly, gripping the weapon's handle tightly, his eyes sweeping up and down the length of the weapon. "Most intriguing… as is the armor. Thank you."
Greywulf glanced to speak to the others, but sighed to find Imoen, Aerie and Jaheira already waiting by the open stairway. They had endured enough in simply resurrecting the man, much less seeing him don the armor their old comrade Keldorn had so recently worn. He sighed, fixing his gaze on the ground as Sarevok stripped off the bladed armor he had worn for so long, changing into... something. Just what, he had no idea, and was half-sure he didn't want to find out. Why couldn't the others understand that he hated this just as much as them?
"My blade is at your command, brother." Sarevok's voice turned him back to the man, grinning darkly as he approached, dressed in crimson and holding the Blade of Chaos with both hands. "Let us proceed... and pity the fools that stand in our way."
X X X X X X
Balthazar remained still, silent and unmoving as he sat around the table with two others, the fourth of their number occupied with battles of his own. He supposed it would have been possible to open a portal to include the fire giant in this discussion, but he doubted Yaga-Shura would have cared. The mammoth Bhaalspawn thought little of their plots and plans, especially considering his own advantage of invulnerability, such as it was. It was a crude way to communicate, anyway. He slowly opened his eyes, as though coming from deep meditation and thought. He had confirmed it... there was no denying the images, the events he had seen and felt. He had warned her, after all.
"It is as we sensed… Illasera is dead. Gorion's ward defeated her."
"Perhaps she should not have been sent in the first place. Another might have suited a Bhaalspawn of his power better." a deep, throaty growl issued from the speaker's voice as Abazigal ran a rough hand across his chin, his long nails scraping flecks of scale and skin from his features.
"The giant would have been too conspicuous. Illasera was our best option, and we all knew it." Sendai said with unhidden revulsion. "We will not underestimate his power again, and he cannot hide in the elven lands forever. Every day that passes is another that we grow stronger- my armies are well equipped to hunt him down even now. The elves are not capable of fighting another war so soon. If I were to let my spiders and duergar forces loose upon the surface, he would be dead within the week."
"And you would have brought the wrath of every nation that fears your kind, that is to say, all of them, down upon your head." Balthazar cut her off, shaking his head calmly. "No... your armies are best suited for tactical strikes, not extended forays. And in the end, Gorion's ward will come to us. He knows he is hunted, and if his actions regarding Sarevok Anchev and Jon Irenicus are anything to go by, he will not simply hide. He will seek us out, and we will have our opportunity."
"Hmph." Sendai leaned back, flicking her white hair from her features to reveal the cruel, hard beauty beneath. "A pity we could not recruit Sarevok Anchev when he yet lived. He would have made a powerful ally. He had the ambition, the charisma..."
"Bah! He would have had the treachery, the gall to betray us as well!" Abazigal laughed, his stringy black hair a tangle behind him. He leaned forward, eyelids flicking open and closed as the reptilian shard of pupil within flickered blue. "He desired all power for himself... it would not have been long before he attempted to kill us all. He had begun such a quest when Gorion's ward killed him in the first place."
"It does not matter now." Balthazar raised his voice, overpowering the feud that was undoubtedly about to break out between the half-dragon and the drow once again. By the gods, if he wasn't around, the Five should have disintegrated long ago. Ironic, really. Balthazar glared until the two were silent, merely shooting daggers of hatred at one another. "This discussion is pointless… Yaga Shura will destroy Saradush, and once he has done so, we will send him after Greywulf and Imoen. He cannot fail."
X X X X X X
A short, somewhat balding and overweight man stood before them, dressed in the clothes of a simple merchant, garb that would be seen daily and blend perfectly with anyone in the streets of Trademeet or Athkatla. His eyes were glassy, almost despondent as they approached him warily, still unsure of the reasoning behind what was surely another test. Sarevok's blade was almost within striking distance before he seemed to notice them, his head cocking upwards to look upon them all. His eyes never seemed to focus upon any of them, but in one instant it was clear he saw everything. A frown crossed his features, and he spoke, "You're… you're one of us. You're one of the Bhaalspawn, aren't you?"
"I am." Greywulf said warily.
An over-eager kobold leapt at Sarevok, barking wildly as it waved its dagger. Its head was gone before the creature got halfway there. A roar of madness erupted as the horde closed in on them, Aerie, Imoen and Greywulf all lashing out with spells of arcane design, fireballs and lightning bolts jumping out amidst the group.
The man seemed to notice and gave what in other circumstances would have been a kind, placating smile; here it merely added to the overall intensity of the situation. "Oh, but you… you needn't worry about me. I'm dead. I'm a nobody… my name was Gavid… I think. I grew up in a small farming village…I didn't even know what I was until they came for me. But I knew I was different. You can hear the screams at night, can't you? You can feel the blood of the murdered, how it flows all around you…a thousand different pains and you're nothing but a solitary echo. But it's not terrible. It's inviting. It calls to you. And if you give into it, if you offer your entire heart up to it, everything becomes crystal clear. One murder, two, a thousand…it all becomes part of you. I murdered three of the local girls until I was…driven out. And then I went to the city. Murder was easier there, and I felt the call every night, screaming at me until I sated it. It took more and more each night before the voice would be still. You can taste life, you know…and it is divine. I can feel the same in you…"
"No." Greywulf choked out, the murderous account driving righteous indignation up within him… alongside fear of becoming the same. "I'm nothing like you."
Jaheira's spear flashed three times in lightning fast succession, each one claimed the life of an approaching orc. The third one stayed on his feet for a brief second after she had pulled the spear out; a reverse thrust with the shaft sent him sprawling backwards, his body disappearing with death. Still, a drow warrior and a Sahaugin guard rose quickly to attack from that avenue, leaving her no time to relax. Minsc was doing something they had seen only a few times: showing restraint. Rather than wading out into battle like the berserker he prided himself upon being, his strikes with the Vorpal Sword were swift and deliberate, wasting no energy or time in his lethal efficiency. Two close kobolds found their end in one sweep, the gnoll right behind them taken by surprise at the speed in which Minsc brought the sword back high and forward, blocking the halberd strike to parry and riposte into its chest.
Gavid seemed to study Greywulf, gazing at him up and down as though taking his measure. He continued as if Greywulf had said nothing. "You resist it, don't you? Why would you do that? Why would you deny your true nature? I can feel you've murdered many, and yet you resist all the good that we alone, the Bhaalspawn, can appreciate. After all…the only thing you need to fear…is retribution."
Sarevok was the paragon of wrath. Somehow he managed to stay close to the group, but his fury was hardly restrained, as was his bloodlust. The skillful sword work they had fought against so often was just as powerful as before, and it was scarce seconds into the battle before those around the Deathbringer kept a respectable distance from his wrath.
"Why do you hesitate?!" Sarevok bellowed, raising one arm to call them in. "Come forward and feel my unholy wrath!!"
"Don't agitate the wildlife." Greywulf tossed behind him as he swung his staff into the side of a charging wolfwere, seconds before the claws reached his throat. It impacted with an eruption of lightning and fire, blasting chunks of flesh and bone from the creature, enough to overwhelm its regenerative abilities and turn it to dust.
"Retribution?" Greywulf asked, the word echoing far too harshly in this cavern, in this chamber of testing. "What do you mean...?"
"For each soul you've killed, for each person you've murdered... did you think there would never be consequences?" Gavid asked, looking surprised at the question. "Did you never imagine how the powers of every enemy you've slain might join together and seek vengeance for what you've done? If not here... then in the afterlife?"
Despite the horrendous odds, the numbers of their foes were beginning to thin- it afforded the six defenders more room to maneuver, and released both Minsc and Sarevok to seek out their foes rather than awaiting their charge. Minsc barreled forward, whirling and spinning as he cut through body after body, shrugging off or ignoring the hits that struck his plate mail. As he made a mighty sweep to the left, decapitating another of their enemies, his blade came to a screeching halt, clanging loudly against another sword. He whirled to see Sarevok's blade at his, the dark warrior's eyes narrowed as he saw what had also stopped his attack. Their quick eye-lock did not last long as another group of men came up to fight, drawing both their attention.
"Can you face them all? Can you look into their eyes and deny the pound of flesh that each murdered soul would take from you when the accounts are balanced?" Gavid questioned, before relaxing with a faint smile. "I could not. Perhaps you can. Here... balance your accounts. Pay your pound of flesh."
Vines tangled and wrapped about their remaining foes, dropping their guards and rendering them helpless to the cold efficiency of the druid who had summoned them. Two summoned wolves were at her side, growling and biting at anything threatening her, keeping most of the smaller foes at bay while she dealt with the larger threats. Their jaws claimed another kobold as she struggled against a gnoll, the beast having pinned her spear with its halberd. Even as she tried to pull free, a gleaming blade swung into view, cutting the last gnoll down easily. She glared at Sarevok, eyes still full of anger as he exchanged the cold look, stepping away as she unsummoned her protectors, the battle finally complete.
Though nobody would ever admit it, Greywulf thought to himself as he leaned over, inhaling deeply, Sarevok had fought well… better than he could have hoped. From a purely practical standpoint, Sarevok was the most talented fighter their group had ever held, rivaling Minsc with ease. From a trust standpoint… that was still another matter.
The merchant Bhaalspawn Gavid formed once more, an oddly curious look on his face. As he appeared, the room around them changed, growing lighter and less rocky, the dark taint and feeling that was present everywhere seemingly lessened. Disturbingly enough, Gavid was different this time around. Most notably was a large red stain over the front of his chest, the shirt jagged from a large sword gash that ran underneath, deep into his flesh and bone. If he felt pain from the wound, he did not show it. He simply spoke once more, "So… you survived retribution. I didn't. But then, you know how to kill a lot better than I did. Strange thing is, the longer you survive, the more blood you have on your hands. And there's never an end to the retribution."
He turned away, beginning to fade into nothingness before stopping one last time and whispering, "Or is there?"