Above the city walls of Saradush, a haze of blue and white strobed repeatedly, shimmering and glinting in the noonday sun. White clouds tinged gray with the smoke and ash drifting into the air were little more than indistinct blobs from the opposite side of the haze, and it was nearly impossible to tell if you were looking through some kind of strange filtering of the universe itself, or simply a glass of extremely chalky water. Neither, of course, was the correct answer- the haze was the visual effects of the magical shielding that the wizards of Saradush's rapidly weakening militia were continually strengthening and feeding, keeping the catapults and siege ballistas at bay, which would have decimated their city long before if not for their efforts at restraining the destruction to come.
All around the walls of the city, there stood men and women in the robes of mages and sorcerers, witches and warlocks. Each one stood with their hands raised high, eyes shut and sweat pouring down their faces as they exerted every ounce of their willpower to keep the barrier strong, to keep the invaders out. The shield made a complete bubble around the top of the walls, but it stopped a few feet above the heads of those manning the guard towers, meaning that the guards could fire their arrows down at the ranks of fire giants and soldiers besieging the city, but they were safe from a fiery bombardment from above. Still, they were outnumbered and outgunned, and even though it was a small window to aim for, the arrows of the enemy were numerous, and eventually, both soldier and wizard alike fell prey to the continued offensive.
Striding up the stairway, keeping his head low, Greywulf glanced down the rock-laid path around the walls, looking for the man they sought. Kiser had given them a target... a wizard named Errard. He had told them that the man was a traitor, a double agent that claimed to be working to the defense of Saradush but was truly in league with the enemy, weakening the shields unnoticed. A devious, dastardly scheme that nobody but the merchant had bothered to notice. All in all, they were pretty sure Kiser's story was a load of crap.
Still, on the off chance that he *was* telling some measure of truth, they had moved to investigate, letting Imoen and Jaheira conduct their own secret investigation, hopefully finding the Countess' son and removing one of the main impediments to them simply walking in and kicking Kiser's ass.
Greywulf ducked a low flying arrow that sailed over the walls, darting along the walls with Sarevok close behind. Men crowded along the walls, shooting into the dust and smoke that covered the outside of the city like a blanket. He had no idea how they were aiming… he couldn't see a thing out in the smoke. Still, he kept moving until he reached the main tower, where at the base, a man in large mage's robes stood, his eyes closed and head bowed as ribbons of magic and power flowed from his hands writhing like snakes as they fed the shielding above their heads. Before they could reach his side, two men wearing robes of Fire Resistance blocked their path, eyes narrowed at the sight of so many heavily armed strangers approaching the wizard.
"State your business, strangers! Master Errard shall not be disturbed from his work if you value the safety of this city!" one of them demanded.
"We've business with your 'master,' such as it is." Greywulf replied tersely. "This won't take long- if he's innocent of the charges we've been sent to investigate, then we'll be on our way quick enough."
"Charges?" the other apprentice sneered, before Sarevok snarled and took him by the collar, throwing him to the side and into the other man, knocking them both to the ground. He drew his blade and leveled it at the two men on the ground, regaining their wits as Sarevok held them at bay.
"Their inane prattle would have done nothing more than delay us and further jeopardize Ardic's safety." the Deathbringer retorted as he caught the glare of disapproval sent his way from Greywulf. "Go, speak with the wizard. I shall ensure that these fools do not interfere."
One thing to be said for Sarevok- his methods were blunt, direct, and usually got results. Greywulf exhaled and waved Minsc and Aerie onward with him, the pair flanking Greywulf as he stopped behind Errard, wondering just how to go about contacting the wizard, so deeply entranced in his work- a spectral image of the wizard floated from his body, settling before the three adventurers with an exceedingly cross look.
"Insolent whelps! How dare you attempt to interfere with my work! Do you know who I am? What it is I have been charged with?!"
His sudden show of arrogance was enough to take them by surprise for a moment, but Minsc was the first to recover, replying with only a hint of gruffness to his voice as he poked the ethereal visage. "You are the wizard that Kiser Jhaeri told us to kill. He says you are a very bad man who betrays the city. Boo would know what you have to say to this."
Errard's spectral image registered confusion- it disappeared with a snarl as he pointed at the two apprentices lying beneath Sarevok's not-so-tender care. "Bah! I know of what you speak- release those two that they might take up my role while I explain the matter to you meddling fools."
Aerie glanced at Greywulf with a look that relayed all of their feelings towards this man. Guilty or not, he was still an arrogant prick. Greywulf exhaled with an attempt to quell his growing frustration and nodded to Sarevok, the warrior letting the two others back to their feet, shuffling past the group with anger, reluctantly taking Errard's place in renewing the shields above while the spectral image vanished, Errard inhaling sharply as his body and spirit rejoined. He spun and faced those who had come to confront him, his darkened eyes glinting with irritation and anger. "So... Kiser thinks he has found others to do for him what he could not? Feh... I will tell you now that the merchant is a piece of gutter trash, nothing more! A cheap conjurer who uses the powers of illusion to make the dregs of society obey his commands and fill his purse. When the defense of Saradush began, he had the nerve to argue for his own advancement as the head of the defenses that I command! Imagine, a mage of his limited power trying to do what I have accomplished so far!"
"You mean to say that Kiser is an illusionist?" Greywulf nodded, understanding. "He might not have been able to defend the city, but he could have made it look like he was... and betrayed the whole city without anyone the wiser."
"Pfeh, the fate of this city matters only upon my reception of the reward I was promised for my service. Should the battle go ill, I shall most certainly not remain to see it through."
"So you're saying that the only reason you stay and help this city is the promise of wealth and power afterwards." Aerie said, disapproval evident in her voice. "You might not be the traitor that we sought, but you are still a thoroughly disgusting man."
Errard sneered at the Avariel, shaking his head in disgust. "Bah! I have heard enough of your ramblings. Leave me to my work, and I shall leave you to whatever inane meanderings you seem intent on pursuing." He returned to his apprentices, leaving the four adventurers to head back to Kiser, ready to confront the lying merchant. Even as Errard's apprentices returned to the mortal realm, allowing Errard to concentrate fully on his protections, they glanced at the four men and women leaving the walls. Kiser would not be pleased when he learned that the Bhaalspawn and his company had left Errard alive, or more so, that they were headed back towards his home. There was little they could do about the Bhaalspawn that Kiser had not already prepared for... but as far as making sure Errard ended up dead, that was something within their means. That's what they were hired to do, after all. The pair of apprentices drew their daggers beneath their robes, watching and waiting for the perfect moment to betray their 'master'...
X X X X X X
Kiser Jhaeri, merchant, illusionist, and traitor to Saradush stood at the entrance to his home, constantly peering through the windows and at the blue haze above the city. He supposed it was foolish of him to assume that the Bhaalspawn might kill Errard immediately; he had not survived so long by being rash. Perhaps he would wait until a stray arrow passed by Errard and use it as an excuse to say that it had, in actuality, struck the wizard. Or maybe a simple friendly-fire incident, where a spell gone awry claimed the life of the arrogant mage.
Regardless, Kiser looked forward to the fruits of the labor he had handed to the oh-so-gullible Bhaalspawn. Assuming Errard was killed, the remaining wizards of Saradush would be under far greater strain to sustain the shielding that was saving the city from a burning death. Even if Kiser's scheme fell through, if Greywulf and his companions saw through his scheme and came to claim their vengeance, he was ready. His two employees, posing as Errard's loyal apprentices, would do the wizard in at the opportune moment, and as for the adventurers... he would prove a tougher opponent than they saw in his simple 'merchant' exterior.
A crashing of glass from the study down the hall got his attention- the thin features across his face tightened as he immediately went for the blade beneath his robes, two guards rushing to his side in the moments after the disruption. He nodded to them and the three moved down the hall quickly and carefully, pausing outside the study door for a moment, listening for movement- the sound of a struggle got their attention, and they all entered only to find... something unexpected.
Imoen tried to keep from looking too uncomfortable in the heavy, baggy cloth that swathed her body and the plate armor that encased her normally lithe body. She could barely move or see under the helmet she was wearing, but then again, that was kind of the point. Kiser knew who Greywulf was... there was a good chance he would know her. Unless, of course, her hair was completely obscured, as was most of her face, and a thick layer of grime and dirt covered everything that was visible. Still, depending on how observant Kiser was or how carefully he screened the guards he hired for his home, there was still the chance that he might recognize her as being out of place. That was of course, why Jaheira was there, to keep him less interested in Imoen and more interested in what Jaheira was wearing. Or rather, what she wasn't wearing.
Imoen was holding Jaheira by the upper shoulders, the druid feigning an attempt to struggle in Imoen's grip, even as her outfit, the traditional garb of a harem girl, drew the attention of all three men who had just entered the room. It left very little to the imagination, and thanks to their rather strenuous lifestyle, Jaheira certainly had the muscle tone and fit figure necessary to pull off the disguise. Whether it worked or not... that would be up to their quality of acting and Kiser's ability to think clearly. "Erm... I found this wench breaking in through the window-" Imoen began, trying to deepen her voice as she continued to hold Jaheira still, praying that this scheme of theirs would work. Surely nobody would be stupid enough to try something like this. No reason to doubt it- even if the glass shards from the broken window were outside, not inside, a dead giveaway that something was up if Kiser looked hard enough.
"Of course this beautiful woman proceeded through the window, do you think my faculties so nearsighted?" Kiser barked, before returning his gaze to Jaheira, his features turning abruptly softer and kinder, as he gestured for the guard to let her go. "Now, be so kind as to inform us why you have imposed yourself upon my property."
"Forgive me- I... my master brought me here from Calimport..." Jaheira purred, her words thick with accent that was usually suppressed, but called back on a moment's notice. "He was killed in one of the explosions that ruin this city and I needed some place to hide. I was so frightened..."
Kiser let a brief smile slip through his features- perhaps the shielding around the city was weakening quicker than he had hoped. And to top all of that off, he had been sent, as though from the gods, a lovely girl to keep him company in the final days before Saradush was reduced to rubble and he received the reward promised him by Yaga-Shura. "And so you sought refuge in my home, breaking your way inside, despite the danger to your own person. An understandable choice, especially when considering the tragic plight of one such as yourself. Please, come with me and I shall endeavor to keep you out of harm's way while you linger here."
Imoen let Jaheira go, meeting her 'frightened' gaze with a brief wink, before shuffling her feet and grunting, "I'll... ah, I'll go keep an eye on the eh, merchandise, Mr. Jhaeri."
Kiser glanced at the guard, nodding as he looked at the other two guards who had accompanied him. "Your fellow stalwart knows his role in a time such as this. One of you join him in the underbelly of this edifice- the other should prepare an unpleasant welcome for any trespassers who might have survived the efforts of the sorcerer Errard."
The guards all shuffled out, leaving Jaheira alone with the merchant, his full attention focused on her. She stood stock still as he circled her slowly, eyes running up and down her body as she tried with all her might to avoid lashing out and punching him in the nose. He leaned over and lifted the translucent red veil around her face, gazing into her piercing green eyes as his other hand ran through her long brown hair. He smiled in what he was almost certain was an inviting, seductive manner. "Perhaps we should retire to a more private room and discuss the arrangements of your stay in my abode?"
"It would be my... pleasure." Jaheira whispered smoothly as she stalked out of the room, Kiser following close behind. Out of his view, her eyes narrowed as she felt his hand touch the small of her back, slowly running downwards- I could smash his head against the wall. Three or four times and his skull would crack wide open. That wooden support beam right there would work perfectly.
X X X X X X
"So... I haven't seen you around before, 'ave I? Thought Kiser only had eight of us guys." the guard who had accompanied Imoen down into the basement of the house rubbed the back of his neck, squinting in the torch-lit darkness. "Wot's yer name again?"
"Ah... er, Im-ah, Anomen. That's it. Anomen." Imoen finally forced out, feigning her embarrassment at almost slipping up so easily, with a faux coughing fit. "Dust around here gets me something fierce."
"Yeah," the other guard nodded sympathetically. "Me too. I got used to it- boss keeps folk down here often enough it don't bother me no more. You must be new around here, right? Well it'd be a shame if someone didn't greet ya, Anomen. Welcome to the little club, such as it is."
"Er... thanks." Imoen replied, looking left and right, noting the numerous different passageways that stretched out in the 'basement.' "This place is huge- how do ya find yer way around here?"
"Man, ye sure are quick to try and get to work, huh?" the other guard laughed, removing his helmet and setting it on a nearby table as he wiped his nose. He was bald, with one or two scars running across his face, a ring in his left ear. "Yeah, all the new guys are like that. Ye'll learn quick there's no pleasin the boss man... always throwin tantrums and yellin at us hired guys with them big fancy words... we pretty much just do what were told, but look out for each other when Kiser ain't around to ride us for slackin off. If he had his way, we'd never have no breaks or nuthin."
Imoen rolled her eyes under the helmet she was wearing. Of all the guards, she got the talkative one. Just dopey and friendly enough that she'd feel bad for just killing him and going off in search of Ardic. Too persistent to trick into just letting her walk off without him. "Thanks bud... didn't catch yer name..."
"Oh, sorry about that." the guard smiled slowly, extending a beefy hand to Imoen and shaking it hard. "Mashkren... don't bother wit the last name since I done left home. No reason to, after all..."
"Sure." Imoen smiled, and for some strange reason she found herself slightly attached to this friendly, slightly slow guard. Granted, he'd probably try to kill her if she let on who she actually was, but that didn't mean she couldn't like the poor fellow. Didn't seem a bad sort, really. A little reminder that the nameless faces and people they fought on a daily basis weren't all evil monsters... some of them were just in the wrong place at the wrong time, being paid to fight the wrong people. "Still, I should probably know where the prisoner is, huh? In case the boss asks, y'know..."
"Right. Good thinkin..." Mashkren nodded, waving one hand for Imoen to follow him. "This way- be careful, it's pretty easy to get lost down here- boss made it that way on purpose in case anyone found out about this place. I almost wandered around down here for an hour once... had to drop coins behind me to tell where I'd been." he shook his head regretfully, "Lost a whole week's pay like that."
They passed hall after hall, occasionally turning to the left or right as she followed Mashkren through the labyrinthine passages of Kiser's dungeon, the pair stopping a few moments after they'd reached a closed and barred door. The guard thumbed towards it, turning and leaning up against the doorpost, shifting in an attempt to find a comfortable position in his armor. "He's in there- Kiser don't let us guards go in there with him- afraid we'd get bought off by him or sumthin, maybe slip him some food or the like. He's the Countess' son, after all, and I don' hold much for torturing folk. I just guard stuff, and fight who the boss tells me to. Still, I guess so long as Kiser done pay me what he promises, I don' bother asking questions. Am I right?"
"Right." Imoen forced a smile. Wonderful- Kiser really was a paranoid bastard. Again... if only he hadn't hired such a likeable dope for a guard. Imoen took the opposite post and leaned against it, pondering her options. She could try casting a spell to immobilize the man before he could react- something non-lethal- then get Ardic out before it wore off. Still, if she couldn't get it off in time, or if there were other guards down here- a distinct possibility, considering the sheer number of passages and hallways- they might react to the flash of the spell or if Mashkren got off a shout... still, they were running out of time, and she sincerely doubted Jaheira was enjoying herself, wherever she was.
X X X X X X
Four men and women returned to the outskirts of Kiser's dwelling, glancing back and forth at one another, as though deciding whether they were ready to strike. Kiser had proven himself a kidnapper and a liar... with the other charges leveled at him, it was safe to say they would be justified in breaking down the door and conducting a good ol' fashioned frontal assault. Minsc was highly in favor of this approach- at least, once they'd given Imoen and Jaheira enough time to find Ardic and get him to some measure of safety.
"What do you think?' Greywulf asked, peering around the corner of the building that sat across from Kiser's, noting the guards that had taken up positions outside the house, wielding bows and axes. "Two archers, two for close combat... the bows might give us some trouble from this distance."
The sound of another flaming boulder shattering overhead gave them momentary pause, before Sarevok spoke up, his tone unusually venomous. "Kiser suspects, at the very least, that we will return to kill him. We should have acted sooner. Waiting this long puts your fellow companions in jeopardy, as well as Ardic."
"Arguing won't help us now." Greywulf countered calmly, or as calmly as he could manage when speaking with his murderous brother. "I think Aerie and I can neutralize both archers with magic before they can get their shots off. That should give you and Minsc a free run at the axemen..."
"No." Sarevok shook his head, his glowing yellow eyes resolute as he stared the sorcerer down. "The longer we battle outside, the more time Kiser will have to prepare for our attack, perhaps even putting Jaheira and Imoen in jeopardy. Minsc can handle the two of them on his own- I will circle around the house and enter from a side window. Attack them from both front and behind."
Greywulf opened his mouth, about to argue for Minsc's safety, but the ranger simply nodded gravely. "Minsc can handle this. Sarevok's tactics seem wise to Boo."
Aerie bit her lip nervously, then nodded to Greywulf. He considered it a moment longer, trying to figure out anything that could go wrong- divide and conquer. Good tactics. He nodded, gesturing towards the side of the house where Jaheira and Imoen had broken in. "The window over on that side should be unlocked, if you want to take the subtle approach, although I doubt that. We'll wait a minute longer, give the others enough time to do their jobs, then we move."
Sarevok nodded, gripping the Blade of Chaos as Aerie and Minsc crouched at the edge of the building's cover, whispering a few comments and advice to one another. Greywulf simply leaned against the building with his arms folded for a moment, before finally looking at the Deathbringer beside him, garnering his attention with a continued stare.
"What do you want?" Sarevok asked, his voice annoyed, as though Greywulf was a nagging child, distracting him from his pre-battle inner meditation.
"You know," Greywulf said with arched eyebrow as he walked alongside the bigger, heavier man, "You could try being just a bit nicer. It wouldn't kill you."
Sarevok studied Greywulf for a moment, as though trying to decide if he was joking or not. Finally, he snorted and said with a quick glance behind him at the others, "Fine. Is there something you wish to say?"
"Better." the wizard remarked, taking care to keep his voice low and not alert the guards they were prepared to ambush. "Just curious, that's all. You seem to be showing a bit more concern about Ardic, Jaheira, Imoen... other people in general, I suppose, than usual."
"And this concerns you, does it?" Sarevok laughed humorlessly, shaking his bald head. "If my presence or motivations bother you, you only have yourself to blame for it. I yet remain by your side, and that surprises even me. It does not take the power of clairvoyance to see that you do not yet trust me."
Greywulf chuckled, his eyes flitting back and forth between their targets and Sarevok's large, armored form. "Don't tell me you're surprised by this."
"You have grown in power, so I do not expect you to fear me as you once may have. But I do expect the lack of trust, the suspicion that I might betray you." Sarevok pointed out. "If I were you, I would feel so. I confess that it eats away at me as to why you would agree to take me with you and not force some form of compliance from me through an oath. I told you that oaths had real power in our father's realm."
Memories- dark memories- flashed through Greywulf's mind. Visions of friends and allies, betrayed, or dead. Yoshimo... Himself. Too many close encounters, too many near-death experiences brought forth from such oaths of binding. "I don't like enslaving people. Especially with the use of a Geas, or an oath." he ground out quietly. It was all too apparent that the subject was a sore spot for him, so he quickly attempted to cover the topic with a follow-up. "Besides- you'd find a way to break it eventually. I know you, Sarevok. All too well."
"Is that so?" the warrior sneered. "A foolish move, if you speak complete truth. Sacrificing possible peace of mind to satisfy your own ego? Bah! If I did not know better, I would say you actually intend to turn me, to try and make me into one of your sickeningly loyal companions... to redeem me, if the concept were even possible."
The idea, the very concept was enough to make Greywulf cover his mouth, working not to alert the guards with his laughs of disbelief. "You overestimate my patience, Sarevok. And your own value to me. You're an asset, and that's why you're with us. That's all."
"So you allow me to make my own destiny at your side, without an oath of service, and trusting for some unfathomable reason that I will not betray you." Sarevok shook his head with a slight twitch of the mouth. "If your motives are simply self-serving, then tell me this... why would I not sell you to your foes? Your vengeance aside, what keeps me from gaining my revenge the second I felt I had an advantage over you?"
The question was a good one- one that Greywulf had pondered for some time. The truth was, he didn't have an answer. Sarevok was an asset, that much was true. And he held no hopes of Sarevok ever becoming anything more than a despicable murderer... yet he had allowed the man free will as he traveled alongside them. Sure he didn't like oaths of binding, but in this case... one should have been appropriate. Was he truly so naive as to believe that Sarevok deserved a second chance? No. Never.
Greywulf turned to face Sarevok, his voice and eyes hard as stone. "That's just it, Sarevok. You might try and betray me. And if you do, I'll be ready. And I will, without hesitation, send you right back to Hell."
The big man listened- oddly enough, he smiled at Greywulf's words. "Good answer. You might just live to see the end of this war after all."
With that, he hefted his blade and darted under shadow to another building with cover, slowly making his way towards the right side of Kiser's house. Greywulf watched him go, then turned back to the others, both having watched and listened to his dialogue with Sarevok. Their faces were reflections of mistrust and wariness, and Greywulf could not blame them one bit for it. Aerie shook her head slowly, glaring at Sarevok's rapidly disappearing figure. "You can't trust him, Greywulf. He's evil, and I don't think that's going to change..."
"No... no, I don't think it will either." Greywulf smiled weakly in reply, only to jerk as the sound of a window shattering signaled Sarevok's forced entry into the house. He nodded to Aerie and Minsc, gripping his quarterstaff tightly as the guards outside whirled in confusion, ready to charge back inside. "I guess that's our cue..."
X X X X X X
I could kill him with one strike- a palm to the nose at just the right angle would drive the shards of bone up into the brain. No... have to give Imoen more time. But once she's found the Countess' son... palm to nose, I swear to Silvanus…
Jaheira's growing anger at the merchant seated a few feet away, ogling her as she moved as rhythmically as she could manage- a dance in lieu of payment for her safety here. Degrading, that's what it was. Still, if it would get Ardic to safety and keep Imoen out of harm's way, the longer she could keep Kiser's attention and thoughts on her and not on the prisoner below or her companions, hopefully coming soon to mete out justice to this despicable wretch, before he got any other ideas about 'payment'-
The sound of glass breaking echoed loudly enough to reach the closed room they were sequestered in, and Kiser immediately snapped from his trance, pushing one hand in his robes, undoubtedly grasping the hilt of a blade hidden within. He forced a smile as he turned to the harem girl, smiling widely. "It seems that intruders have entered my abode once more- please excuse me while I investigate this matter. I shall send one of my guards to your side to ensure your safety in this dangerous occasion."
He flung the door open, and moments later, one of the merchant's big, hulking guards had entered in his place, closing the door and planting himself before it, sneaking half-glances at Jaheira when he thought she wasn't watching. Jaheira rolled her eyes, but hid it quickly, waiting a few moments until she was sure Kiser would have gone wherever it was he was headed... she inhaled sharply, then slunk to the guard's side, tapping him on the shoulder lightly. He turned to her, swallowing heavily as he stuttered, "Y-yes, miss?"
She smiled disarmingly, fixing his gaze with her own- before slamming a palm straight into his nose, shattering it and sending blood gushing from his face. She smiled tightly as she followed the first attack up with cupping both hands to box his ears, grasping his head as he doubled over in pain and slamming his head into her upraised knee. He collapsed to the ground, and Jaheira knelt, grabbing his blade. A scimitar... she'd used them in the past- and Silvanus help Kiser if she caught up with him before her companions did.
Even as Jaheira made her way from Kiser's unconscious and bloodied guard, Imoen and Mashkren were both looking up, listening to the sounds of screaming and explosions of magic occurring upstairs- Imoen more worried than Mashkren could know. She was certain that her friends had arrived, and she was out of time. She had to get Ardic somewhere Kiser couldn't hurt him or use him as a shield, and she had to do it now. Mashkren was the only impediment to that... but she couldn't bring herself to just kill him. Imoen squeezed her eyes shut, prayed to Mask this would work, then turned to the heavy-set man. "Mashkren- I think it's the Bhaalspawn! They've come to get Ardic..."
"Then we gotta protect him for Kiser, right?" Mashkren replied, eyes wide as he hefted his axe. "Let's see 'em get through you and me, eh?"
"Er..." Imoen suppressed the urge to stamp her foot in frustration. Something to get him out of her hair and not kill him... an idea popped into her head and she went for it. Only two incantations and a few hand motions- Mashkren was just turning to ask what she was doing when the Horror spell took effect. A yellow haze covered the guard's eyes, and he screamed at the top of his lungs as he swung his axe once, twice, nearly taking her head off with both swings, before turning and bolting down the passages. Sorry, buddy... can't let you get in the way. All the guards are probably upstairs, so here's hoping...
Imoen began the tedious task of picking the lock Ardic was hopefully hidden behind, wishing she had picked Mashkren's pocket for the key before sending him in a panic through the dungeon. His screams still echoed and reverberated across the stone and cobweb-ridden passages- until it suddenly stopped. A brief gagging noise, then the sound of something heavy hitting the floor. Imoen's blood froze... No! I did that so he *wouldn't* get hurt!
It was probably one of her companions- but surely they wouldn't be brutal enough to have killed a man who was obviously no threat. And why hadn't they announced themselves? A thought crossed her mind- Kiser, perhaps? He might've been cruel enough to kill his own guard if he thought the man was a liability... regardless, she couldn't take the chance and leave her back exposed. Imoen stalked down the catacombs with her bow in hand, an arrow of acid nocked and at the ready. She crept through the shadows, hiding out of sight whenever possible, until she spotted a trickle of red filling the cracks of the stone floor. Imoen swallowed, stepping out of the light and turning the corner with her bow raised and ready to fire- there was nobody there... just Mashkren lying on his back, blood pooling from beneath him, undoubtedly due to the large sword wound through his torso. His eyes were wide and seemed to be staring at her- fear was etched onto his face, his last emotion before death. Imoen unconsciously stepped away, guilt tugging at her emotions...
A heavy blow landed on the back of her neck, sending her to the ground. As she slipped into unconsciousness, she never saw Sarevok emerge from the shadows, a knowing smirk at his features. It was a shame he had to knock her out, but she couldn't witness what he was about to do. For all she knew, it was another guard, or maybe Kiser himself. He followed Imoen's footprints in the dusty tunnels, finding the cell where Ardic was supposedly held. Glancing behind him to make sure that none of his allies had shown up unexpectedly, he brandished the key he had taken from the guard and unlocked the door, the hinges creaking loudly with the motion. Light shone in, illuminating the haggard and worn man chained to the wall, wincing with fear at the sudden influx of light. His eyes widened as his vision cleared, and he could see that the man entering was not Kiser. "Please... please help me..."
Sarevok studied the young man for a moment- his clothes bore the symbols of the Count Santele, and he was missing a finger from his left hand, the hand wrapped in blood-soaked cloth. "Ardic Santele?"
The son of the Countess nodded excitedly, hope in his eyes for the first time in the many days since he had been abducted by Kiser Jhaeri. "Yes... yes, that is I! You have been sent by my mother? I knew she would not allow my disappearance to go unchecked-"
His words came to an abrupt halt as Sarevok turned around and walked out the door, pausing to kneel and take up the axe that Mashkren had dropped. "I... what are you doing? You are here to free me, right? Sir? Sir!"
Ardic's eyes widened and he would've screamed if he had the chance. As it was, the axe embedded itself in the wall behind Ardic's neck, and the head of Countess Mirnelle's son fell to the floor, rolling to a stop with betrayal written all over his frozen features. Blood spurted from his neck as his heart attempted to pump blood to a path no longer existing- the body would empty itself soon enough, and there would be no way of knowing how soon it had occurred. Sarevok exhaled as he stepped away from the slowly growing pool of crimson in the cell, and then moved to Imoen's limp body. He let himself smile as he imagined Greywulf's reaction when he learned that Ardic had died because he had refused to take the initiative. Refused to act, instead waiting for proof before killing the merchant. A tragic fate for the Countess' son, killed at the hands of Kiser Jhaeri. Or one of his guards. Regardless, had Greywulf done the right thing, had he been aggressive, took action as Sarevok had urged him, Ardic would yet be alive.
He knelt and draped Imoen's unconscious form over his shoulder, slowly trudging back to the battle above. Greywulf would learn. He'd see just how steep the price was for following this 'righteous' path. And when he assumed the Throne of Bhaal, becoming a dark deity of Murder with Sarevok at his right hand, he would admit that Sarevok was right all along.
X X X X X X
A flurry of images, each one carrying a long, green-tinted blade exploded all around Greywulf, sending him stumbling backward, raising an arm to protect himself with a quick shield of magic- just in time, for five different blades hit the shield, cracking it before ricocheting off. He had no idea which of the five images of Kiser had been real- and he and the others were running out of time. What should have been a straightforward battle had turned sour; after fighting through the four guards outside, sustaining only minor injuries, a shallow cut across Minsc's arm and a faint bruise on Greywulf's cheek, they'd broken into Kiser's house, looking for the merchant himself. One more guard had blocked their path, felled quickly by a barrage of flame arrows. Then... Kiser. As it had turned out, the merchant was not quite all he appeared to be.
They'd known he was an illusionist as well as a merchant... but he was far more than that. His skills with the poisoned blade he carried were lethal, and Minsc was already down, only still alive through the constant attentions of Aerie, trying to stop the fast-spreading poison from killing him. He was the only thing between Kiser and the two of his teammates- and the merchant was giving no quarter to the Bhaalspawn.
"Did you think me an easy target, ripe for the sword at your companions' command?" Kiser sneered, two of the mirror images darting in from either side while the other three began casting spells- one of them was real, and he did not have time to check them all before something hit him, whether blade or spell. He let a brief glimmer of concern for Imoen and Jaheira enter his head before shoving those thoughts away, concentrating on the present battle. First things first- the swords moving to impale him from either side. If either attack was real and hit, he'd be down and out, just like Minsc from a slice between the joints of his shoulder armor.
Greywulf spun in place, dropping his quarterstaff to thrust both hands out on either side, waves of magic emitting from both palms. The bursts of magic should have been enough to knock a grown man off his feet- in his case, both men vanished into thin air, nothing more than illusions. That, however, left him wide open for the activation of a burst of magic missiles, shattering the waning shield he had conjured and knocking him to the ground, his chest smoking and burned with the explosions of magic. The world spun all around him as he tried his best to regain some sort of sense- Aerie was putting all her strength into pushing the poison in Minsc back, and she would be completely vulnerable to an attack. They hadn't come all this way, fought through Irenicus, Bodhi and Sarevok just to die from some merchant-
Sarevok? Where was- the sound of a furious, almost laughing bellow managed to bring some manner of clarity back to Greywulf's mind, and he propped himself up on one elbow in time to see Sarevok at Kiser's throat, the Sword of Chaos raining blows down upon the fighter-mage, all mirror images dispatched. His chest still hurt like he'd been hit by an ogre's fist, but he tried to speak the words to a spell, only for the magic to fizzle in his hands. Still too weak from the impact-
Kiser snarled, spinning once as he deflected the side-swing of the Deathbringer, only to raise a hand and shout the trigger to a simple spell of blindness- light shone all around, Greywulf covering his eyes just in time. Sarevok howled in frustration as he stumbled back, swinging the blade and blinking madly, trying to restore his vision. Kiser waited patiently, watching Sarevok's blade, just hoping to find that moment where he could sneak in and land a mortal blow- a flurry of motion at the corner of his eye spurred him to dodge, and it was just in time. The scimitar Jaheira was wielding sliced through the space his head had been occupying just a moment prior, and had it landed, it surely would've split it like a melon. His lip curled as he spat in disgust. "So, it would seem that the lovely woman I sought to seduce is another assassin! One more shall make little difference in the final accounting-"
"Shut up." Jaheira said grimly, her outfit billowing around her as she pressed an attack, the sound of steel on steel ringing through the room as each fighter strove to gain the upper hand, also avoiding the wild swings of Sarevok, still trying to overcome his blindness. A blinding swing cut a chunk of flesh from Kiser's leg as he stumbled backwards, cursing furiously. Jaheira shot him a withering smile before charging, preparing to end it. Kiser barked a laugh and activated a Spell Trigger- another Kiser Jhaeri appeared, this one more than a simple mirror image. A Simulacrum- a dangerous spell to deal with, especially on her own. The pair sneered in contempt, voices echoing at once. "You cannot kill us both!"
Both charged with swords upraised, Jaheira backpedaling in an attempt to find a way of dodging or blocking both downward swings- Greywulf forced out the incantation he'd been murmuring, finally containing the shaky magics as a bolt of lightning leapt from his hands, striking the man on the left, stopping him in his tracks, convulsing with the strike. The other paused for a split-second, taken by surprise... a fatal mistake, as Jaheira turned her back-motion into a forward lunge, impaling the second Kiser on her scimitar. The man on her blade looked down in shock, blood trickling from the side of his mouth as he slid off, the Kiser who had been convulsing from the lightning strike vanishing into thin air. As his chest ceased its rise and fall, slowly but surely, Sarevok strode over, his blindness vanishing along with Kiser's life force. "Heh... so you tried to betray Saradush to its enemies and failed," he chuckled. "Schemes to destroy a city are never as simple as they first seem, are they? I learned that hard lesson at Baldur's Gate."
Across the room, beneath the shade of the once fine decorations of the merchant's home, now spattered with blood and splinters of wood, Aerie helped a still sickly looking Minsc to his feet as the pair stumbled over to the group, all huddled around the body of Kiser Jhaeri.
"You made it just in time..." Greywulf breathed, nodding to Sarevok and Jaheira with gratitude. Grudges or not, his brother had saved his life. As for Jaheira... "Um... ah, Jaheira? Why exactly are you... ah... wearing-"
"Do *not* say a word." the druid glared, the look in her eyes shutting any further questions up. "Where is Imoen? Did any of you see here yet?"
"I found her below, in Kiser's dungeon of sorts. I brought her back up and put her in that room before coming to your aid." Sarevok intoned, gesturing down the hall. "She had been knocked unconscious by one of the guards- I killed him and took the keys to Ardic's cell, but..."
Greywulf's breath froze as he listened, knowing what Sarevok was about to say, knowing the feeling of failure that was about to come to rest upon him. "But we were too late. He's dead, right? How long-"
Sarevok shook his head, and Greywulf couldn't help but think there was a hint of condemnation in his features. "Perhaps a few hours prior, judging from his wounds."
Greywulf's shoulders sagged, looking down at the dead man, and he suddenly wanted to spit on the corpse, wanted to stab it with the man's own blade. They'd been too late... another innocent dead, and the damnable part of it all was that it could have been helped. If he'd acted sooner... maybe-
"Greywulf... you couldn't have known." Aerie said quietly, "It's not your fault..."
"Oww.... what happened?" Imoen's voice, pained and in obvious discomfort, wafted into the room as she stumbled in, looking up with her hair still tied back, her face still dirtied and made up, the helmet and armor still sagging off her. Despite the seriousness, the tragedy of the situation, Aerie could not help but let laugh.
"Imoen? Why are you dressed like a man?"
Imoen only sighed and followed Jaheira, rubbing the dirt and makeup off her face as the two headed back to where they had stashed their armor and clothing.
"I do not understand." Minsc muttered helplessly as he leaned against a wall, sweat rolling down his face from the sickness that had so recently befallen him.
"Neither do I, Minsc…" Greywulf sighed weakly, trying to push the feelings of guilt from his mind and enjoy the victory, such as it was, they had earned. "Sometimes it's better not to ask. We'd best get back to the Countess after the women return... she'll want to know what happened to her son."
Unseen by any of the others, Sarevok smiled darkly.