Author's Note: Okay, so I've had this chapter ready since Saturday, but has been messing up lately when I try and post chapters, so you might've seen this up for a few seconds before it went down again. Either way, hopefully it will upload properly and send out the e-mail alerts this time...

The Tankard Tree, last of the standing taverns in all of Saradush, had seen more business through its doors in the last weeks of the siege than it had seen in all the years of its business. It didn't matter that the wine and the high-class drinks were gone. It didn't matter that what was left, the cheap ales and beers, had been watered down even further than normal to keep the supply lasting as long as possible. It was simply a place to come and drink and forget, for a moment the troubles that literally surrounded the city. To wait for the inevitable end, in the company of others, similarly awaiting their fates.

People who had once been strangers, simple townsmen willing to live their own quiet lives, huddled in their own quiet bubbles and not needing or wanting invasion of that personal privacy, found themselves talking and sharing and comforting those who had been nameless and faceless not a few days prior. It would have been inspiring if not for the sense of doom and desperation that continued to linger over everything. The sense of defeat that had settled in and would make any sort of attempts at fighting the invaders off useless. The siege would succeed... it was just a matter of when.

Of course, not everyone was taking it so easily. Not everyone was helpless- the six men and women scattered around the bar were a fine example. For once, the six were not huddled together, quietly planning a mission, or discussing the tactics of their next move. Not sharing old memories and fond stories of their past companions. No time for that- and besides, there wasn't a lot of time for reminiscing these days. Tactics though... there was time for that. And they'd been discussed all right.

Aerie and Imoen stood near the back of the bar, the girls draped in the shadows that the dimly lit area provided. Aerie's elven eyesight allowed her a slightly keener perspective on the room than Imoen, and so she murmured slightly every now and then, informing Imoen of anything she felt might have been relevant to their task. Imoen dusted a few pieces of ash and dirt from her shirt, the usual emerald color of her elven splint mail covered by a dirty brown tunic. Wouldn't do for their prey to know just what they were capable of, after all. "You sure there's nothing yet? I'm gettin' kinda sleepy..."

Aerie glanced at Imoen, the thief-mage letting a cat-like yawn erupt from her before quickly settling back down, trying to stay alert. The elf couldn't really sympathize... not needing to sleep had its benefits, though Aerie had long since given up Reverie for a more human like slumber. Too many bad memories that she'd have just as soon forgot- still, exhaustion was setting in for her as well. "Sorry... I don't see anything." Aerie said with a hint of regret. "M-maybe they won't be here tonight?"

"Meh... try telling that to Greywulf." Imoen shook her head, nodding toward the grey-cloaked figure seated at the bar, his back to everyone else. To anyone watching, he was just another man drowning his worries and sorrows in liquor. A complete facade that hid the true power and wariness lying beneath those weary shoulders. "The cleric said they were vampires. Vampires only come out at night..."

"So we're sitting here, waiting for the courtesans to show up at three in the morning." Aerie finished, blinking in an attempt to fight off the sudden urge to yawn. "N-now look what you've made me do..."

"Heh." Imoen grinned, watching the elf try to fight the contagious yawn- to no avail. Her gaze drifted back to Greywulf, noting his quick glance behind him, their eyes meeting for only a half-second before he went back to his drink, which was probably lukewarm and only half drained. It was always this way when they met with any kind of failure- Greywulf got twice as focused and twice as serious- all traces of mirth and humor would disappear for a while, at least until the sorcerer felt he had earned the right to those feelings again. Or that's the way Imoen saw it, at least.

"Did he say how it went with the Countess?" Aerie asked quietly, and Imoen could only shake her head regretfully.

"No... but maybe that's just as well, ya know... hearing that after everything, her son got his head taken off by an axe... I don't think anyone'd take that news well. At least Mateo was freed. Some 'victory,' huh?"

At one of the few booths sat a man far too large not to attract attention were he standing, and the smaller form of a half-elf. Minsc and Jaheira's faces were barely illuminated by the candle sitting on the table between them, and they watched one another's backs as they sat, looking and waiting for their quarry to show up.

"No sign of them." Jaheira muttered, her bronze skin gleaming in the flickers of the candle. "And yet... I can still feel the presence of something unnatural. Something inhuman..."

Minsc's eyes were narrow as they flickered back and forth, his senses at full alert. The ranger was at his most dangerous now... a giant knot of muscles, a cobra coiled and waiting to strike. When Minsc could be persuaded to sit down and let his senses do the work rather than his sword... he was good. Jaheira watched him for a moment, feeling a hint of admiration. "You feel them too..."

He nodded, and then looked over at the bar, this time at the enormous warrior sitting a few seats down from Greywulf. "Evil is here."

Jaheira followed his gaze, then smirked for a moment before letting her serious exterior return. "Perhaps, but he is not the evil we seek tonight. I am glad, though, that you have not lowered your guard around that abomination. He will move against us soon enough... we must be prepared."

Minsc considered that for a moment, then shifted his body, the sound of his plate mail grinding lightly adding to the background rumble of conversation against the thrum of explosions upon the shield above the city. "Evil, yes. But there is something strange about him. Boo can sense it too- it as though he is Sarevok... and not Sarevok. It makes Minsc nervous."

His words drew an arched eyebrow from the druid- he simply shrugged and returned to watching the tavern. She shook her head slightly and renewed her vow to keep their new 'companion' under watch every moment of the day and night. When he tried to kill them- emphasis on tried- she'd be there to stick her dagger in his heart.

The seats between Greywulf and Sarevok were empty as the two brothers sat at the bar- even the bartender gave them a healthy bit of room. Maybe it was their group's numerous altercations in the bar with Gromnir's soldiers, or just the plain sight of Sarevok's eyes glowing gold in the darkness, but nobody dared get between the two, or even next to them. It didn't help that they didn't like each other. So it might have been a surprise, had anyone been close enough to hear, when Greywulf spoke to Sarevok without looking, in a tone that was almost... cordial.

"You can say it, you know."

Sarevok glanced at the wizard, before turning the other way, watching the entrance to the bar carefully. "And what might that be, brother? I never quite know what to expect from you."

"You know well enough." Greywulf spoke calmly. "You were right about Ardic and Kiser. We should've moved sooner and my hesitation might've cost him his life." Even as he felt the words leave his mouth, Greywulf prepared himself, steeled his ego and his spirit for the barrage of sneering, spiteful comments that Sarevok could send his way. He supposed it was just something he's have to get used to, something that as long as Sarevok was part of their little band, would be a permanent fixture anytime his more restrained methods failed to yield the results that Sarevok's might've.

If it were just him and his ego at stake, he could handle it. But when innocents got involved, when his mistakes cost other people their lives... that's where he started getting edgy. Started reconsidering his options. Started- and if Jaheira knew what he was thinking, he'd get an earful- actually listening to what Sarevok was saying. Not that he was ready to jump feet-first onto the caravan headed toward murderville, but the man knew how to get results, that was for sure. If he could take Sarevok's advice... then twist it, maneuver it to fit his own ways and ends? That might be worth it.

"Hmm. And what would this do, should I acknowledge your gesture of humility? Gain me the satisfaction of saying, 'I told you so?' A hearty pat on the back and self-congratulation over my own self-worth? Surely you don't think me so conceited, brother. Simply take note of what is staring you in the face next time, and I shall be satisfied." the warrior spoke, ending his words with a drink.

That was... unexpected. Haughty Sarevok he could handle. Crazy Fratricidal Sarevok he could kill. But Begrudgingly Magnanimous Sarevok was a new one, and slightly more off-putting than the other two, really. Greywulf was about to say something else, when the scent of perfume caught his nostrils. He sniffed again, making sure he hadn't imagined it... no, it was real. He took a quick glance at the door, sneaking a peek at several men and women slipping into the door, their faces indistinct in the darkness, but their manner of clothing spoke to a profession that made certain that any potential customers got an eyefull. They slid- glided almost, the way their feet barely seemed to touch the wooden slats of the floorboards- to the back rooms of the tavern, each one displaying themselves for the patrons of the inn, like merchandise on display at an auction.

Greywulf almost breathed a sigh of relief upon seeing the courtesans- he had feared for a time that they wouldn't show up. The party had been through a lot over the last twenty-four hours, and sleep had not been a part of it. The worst part was that if their attempts at using the courtesans to get inside the castle worked out, they wouldn't be sleeping for some time yet. Especially if these men and women proved to be the undead Nosferatu that Sister Farielle had claimed them to be. There was, of course, one good way to find out. Greywulf looked back down the tavern bar towards the shadowed section where Imoen and Aerie were watching. Aerie saw his look, and nodded in reply. She turned her gaze toward the courtesans and murmured the words to a spell- her normally blue eyes suddenly flashed red as infravision settled in, and the world became a blur of blue and red and orange, the heat from everything and everyone washing together into a new, confusing world. Imoen looked at the confused, slightly afraid expression on Aerie's face- suddenly so much less innocent with those glowing red eyes, she noted- and took her by the arm, trying to give her a focal point. "S'all right, Aerie- I'm still here. What do you see?"

"It's... it's really hard." Aerie whispered, blinking rapidly as she tried to adjust. "I'm trying to filter out the a-ambient heat from the siege outside. It's much worse than usual..."

Imoen nodded in realization, cursing this oversight in their plan. They'd gotten accustomed to the intense heat in the city because of the siege outside and the constant fireballs exploding above and sometimes inside the city. They were sweating all the time now... but they'd forgotten how much this might throw off the effects of her heat detecting spell. It wasn't the end if this little maneuver failed... it was just a quick and painless way of determining if the courtesans were really undead. There would be other ways... a smile crept onto Aerie's face, and Imoen felt her faith in the Avariel swell. She knew the elf could do it.

The shapes were slowly becoming distinct, as she began deciphering which colors were hotter, what shapes were people and what was simply ambient heat... and right across the room, where the courtesans were standing, were six or seven completely dead spots, cold as the grave, so to speak. Aerie spoke a few words, dispelling the effects of her spell, then exhaling with a nod to Imoen. "I guess that's step one, right?"

"Right." Imoen nodded with a quick thumbs-up to Greywulf, flashed so quickly that nobody else in the bar would've caught it. "Step two... where it gets tricky. Usually the most fun too, heh..."

"I'm not so sure this time around..." Aerie said with a shiver, letting her eyes adjust once more to the regular spectrum. Greywulf would be sending the signal to Minsc and Jaheira now- and then would come the dangerous bit. Finding out how the vampires were getting out of the 'sealed' dungeon of the castle wasn't something that would just come up in normal chit-chat. And a Domination spell was going to be hard to use on a vampire- even harder if said vampire was surrounded by six of his or her comrades. Fighting in the tavern would just get innocents killed... so that left one option. Arguably the insane option, but the only option nonetheless. Looking for a good time? Perhaps.

Sister Farielle had said that they had only taken a few 'customers' back per night... maybe they were being cautious, not wanting to invite trouble, trying to stay quiet while the city was occupied with the siege. Regardless, just as it would look suspicious if all six of them were standing and watching them as they entered, it would look just as bad if they all came over and asked for a good time, or Helm forbid that five of them just wanted to come along and watch. One of them, at most two, would have to court these undead, get taken back to the crypts, find out where and how they'd been brought in, then get out and tell the others. Oh, and surviving would be good too.

They hadn't decided which of them would be the one to go yet, but they'd split the holy water they were given into six small vials so that all of them had a bit for use if need be, and each one had a stake on their person. All of them were capable- but this situation wouldn't be easy. They were used to going it as a team, with perhaps Sarevok as the exception. Perhaps it made him the perfect choice for this opportunity-

Imoen elbowed Aerie with concern as one of the male courtesans, wearing a sleeveless vest and tight black pants strode to them, his hair slicked back and a tantalizing smile across his face. He bowed slightly to the two girls as he approached, before eyeing Aerie with unmistakable lust. Lust for what... that was a matter of debate. "I could not help but spy your gaze falling upon me for some time, miss. Does my body interest you for the night? Surely you wish to avail yourself of some pleasure in trying times such as these?"

Aerie swallowed- this was... unexpected. She knew Imoen was standing right there, and she could probably convince the man and his vampire brethren to take both of them- but the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was the one. She should, no, needed to be the one to go- her skills as both a cleric and a mage, her elven senses in the darkness... her un-intimidating features, perfect for getting the vampires to lower their guard. Almost without realizing what she was doing, she stepped forward, leaving Imoen behind and smiled as innocently as she could manage. "That sounds wonderful... what did you have in mind?"

The courtesan smiled back, and Aerie could have sworn she saw the points of his teeth glimmer in the torchlight.

X X X X X X

Humans. For a species usually so impulsive, so quick to say and do and take what they willed, they could be incredibly hesitant sometimes. It was normal for elves, dwarves, even halflings and gnomes to take a little more time, to examine their choices, to use the long lives and experience they'd been gifted with to make certain that their choices, their words were the correct ones. Rare to find impulsive elves. That was the domain of the humans- living for so short a time, they had to move quickly, learn quickly... everything had to be quick. So when both Anomen Delryn and Reynald de Chatillon had remained seated, sipping their drinks with nary a word or pleasantry between them, Solaufein could do naught but roll his eyes and fold his broad arms. He had been expecting something interesting- this was boring, and if the squire was unwilling to initiate the repentance he professed, then he would simply have to spur it onward.

"Reynald... Anomen spoke to me of your past." the drow said, matter-of-factly. "Tell me... how has the life of a guard treated you thusly?"

Such a casual, seemingly uncaring comment about what was undoubtedly a sensitive issue drew an aghast glance from Anomen, and a surprised jerk from the former knight. "I... I see. I suppose I should have known that my history would not have been... let go so lightly. I... perhaps this was a poor choice-"

Anomen glared harshly at Solaufein before turning to Reynald with an apologetic smile on his bearded features. "Please, sit. I spoke of your past to Solaufein at his request- not to denigrate you as you might believe. Much has happened since we last met, Reynald... I have changed, just as you have done as well."

Reynald paused, and then sat back down with a shake of the head. "I appreciate your... kinder tone, than what you showed me previously, though I doubt you have known the failures and shame I have. You are a Knight of the Order, *Sir* Anomen... I am what I am, and you know it well."

The smile across Anomen's face turned to one of regret, and almost bitter apprehension. "The 'sir' is unnecessary, Reynald. Where once I looked down upon you for your transgressions, it is only by the slightest of hopes that I yet remain a squire. And no longer a Knight, that much is certain."

For the next hour, Anomen spoke of everything that had transpired between him and the Bhaalspawn, the battles, the relationships, the problems he had faced with his family, and his attempted murder of Saerk in retaliation for the death of his father and sister. As he spoke, his posture lost that proud gleam, that distinctive haughtiness to his stance that had never left, even as his personality had lost some of the bite and self-righteousness that had been his bane for so long. Solaufein watched and listened, also curious of what Greywulf and Imoen had been up to since he had left their company. A Planar Sphere in the middle of the Slums- a murderer in the Bridge District, skinning men and women to... do what? Make coats of armor out of them? Helping prevent a war between the Temples of Talos and Lathander... they'd certainly kept busy in between helping Suldenesselar rebuild.

When Anomen finally finished his tales, for once filled with humility and penitence rather than swagger and boasting, Reynald said nothing. He simply leaned back in his chair and ran one hand through his blonde hair, shaking his head in near-disbelief. "I see. To tell you the truth, I would have scarce believed any tale you told some time ago. But... but you have changed, that much is clear. The very fact that we are sitting together now is testament to that fact. I am sorry to hear of what happened to your family- I had not known."

"Thank you Reynald... and pray think no more of our past, now that we know one another's faults and failures." Anomen said, straightening up once more. "If you can forgive me my own hubris, then I should be proud to call you my ally and friend once more."

"As you say." Reynald smiled, and shook the gauntleted hand offered him, only for another awkward silence to slip between the two. Anomen shook it off by turning to Solaufein with a barked laugh, "You've been rather quiet since forcing us to speak, eh? Have you nothing to say?"

The drow let a hint of a smirk show before shrugging and continuing, "I asked a question earlier, did I not? I don't believe it was ever answered."

Reynald's brow knitted for a moment, before he nodded with a smile. "Yes, of course... it is well enough, I suppose. As you might tell by my posting in the docks, the other guards think ill of me, but I understand their disdain. 'Tis not something I blame them for- I only hope to earn their trust in the coming days. Difficult enough to fight alongside one you trust, much less one you do not. I am... I am not certain that this job is what I am truly seeking. It allows me to make use of the skills I spent a lifetime trying to achieve, but... I miss the companionship of the Order, the feeling of trusted brethren fighting side by side in battle."

His words sparked an idea within Anomen; the squire leaned forward with excitement, brown eyes locked on Reynald. "Perhaps it is time you moved on then? The life of an adventurer might suit you well enough, and the quest Solaufein and I are embarking upon could use another sword-hand, if you are willing to lend it!"

Solaufein smiled- he'd been waiting for this ever since Anomen had told him of their past together. He knew Anomen would invite the former knight on their journeys, just as he knew Reynald would, after some time denying his usefulness and proclaiming his duties as a guard, would eventually say yes and join them. Sometimes overthinking and analyzing the situations so long before speaking took the excitement out of things. Not everything though... some things were just too spontaneous, too unpredictable to get boring. Certain people embodied this more than others, he'd found... Phaere was one. She'd never ceased to amaze him, to surprise him... or at least, before she'd been turned into that monster who had perished under the wrath of the Demon Lord. Imoen was another one, much like Phaere...

"Solaufein-?"

The drow was suddenly made aware that both men were staring at him, as though waiting for him to say something. "Hmm? Excuse me... you were saying?"

"I said that if Reynald is to come with us, he should know just what we'll be facing." Anomen replied smoothly, though none of the three men at the table missed the questioning look that the squire had sent Solaufein's way.

"Of course." the drow nodded, back to his quiet, imposing self once more. "Let's get started then. What exactly do you know of Watcher's Keep?"

X X X X X X

Staying calm, that was the key. Passing through the darkness of the night sky, clouds and ash obscuring what little could be made out above the hazy shielding above... it was clearer than before, Aerie thought. That was bad- it meant the wizards supporting it were weakening. Once the magic barrier fell, the city would fall soon after. "Stay close, pretty one..." the vampire courtesan whispered, glancing behind him at the elf, flashing another smile her way. "It's just a bit further... trust me- we use this place so that our customers can have some privacy... you'll get your money's worth, that I promise you."

Aerie tried to smile and nod in response as the two of them continued through the streets, passing abandoned buildings, slowly making their way toward a run-down tower that had once stood above the jails, brick and masonry crumbling around the base. Despite all appearances, there was a distinct doorway in the side, still upright and closed. Aerie was slightly taken aback- the cleric had said that she'd sealed the jails with both key and magic. Most of the time, when wards were tied to a physical lock, they didn't weaken enough to allow passage without the proper key- the courtesan removed a slender key from his pocket, flashing it once with a grin before slipping it into the lock.

"These... t-these are the jails, aren't they?" Aerie said, trying to keep a measure of confidence in her voice and keep from showing just how afraid she really was. "Aren't they dangerous?"

Her escort turned to look at her, a laugh in his voice that would have held nothing but benevolence for any unsuspecting onlooker- to Aerie, she could veritably hear the sarcasm in his voice as he spoke. "Oh, do not be afraid, sweet Aerie... I promise you will be safe in my arms tonight. Some of my fellows are following behind us- we have but one key, so I shall remain here to let them in. Simply follow the lit path once you are inside, and I will be with you in moments."

Aerie smiled- taking a deep breath, she stepped inside, fighting the urge to tense up as she heard the door swing shut and lock behind her. So the vampires had acquired the key somehow... Farielle said that after the Count had been exiled, the key had probably gone to Gromnir. Had he given it to them? Perhaps they'd stolen it from him? No, that didn't make sense... she was missing something important, and after she escaped from the trap she was almost certainly being led into, she'd have to find out just what that was. She just hoped that Imoen, following them out from a distance, had managed to keep an eye on them without being spotted by the other vampires. Like they'd predicted, the whole lot was heading back now that they had her in their trap.

The inside was still dark, but a great deal of effort had been put into fooling their victims- carpet had been laid and torches had been positioned to give the impression of sultry lighting. Rooms that had almost certainly been the offices and administrative rooms of the jail now had blankets and nests of pillows inside- men and women were in each one, smiling hungrily at her as she kept moving- if all of these were vampires, then there were far more than she had thought. Than any of them had thought. Aerie steeled herself and kept moving, following the torch lit path, even as she heard the sound of the locked door behind her swing open- the rest of the vampires had arrived. She kept moving, finally coming to a cell made up with a full bed and table, as though it were going to be anything more than a bleeding ground for a victim. If she looked carefully at the stone blocks comprising the floor, she could see dried crimson in the cracks.

A blur of motion caught her attention as the courtesan she had followed here swept into the cell, closing the door with a gentle swing of his hand. "Ah... I'm sure you do not need me to tell you how lovely you look in the veil of shadow..."

"A flatterer..." Aerie said as sweetly as she could manage, shifting in her robes, letting one hand slide down to grasp the wide end of the stake hidden under the oversized mage robes she wore. "Though I can't help but wonder... I had heard this place was sealed and could only be accessed by the key that the Count of Saradush had? How is it that you and your companions come by it?"

The vampire laughed, but this time it was much less benevolent, a hint of malice behind it as he leaned in, sliding his hands over her shoulders and up toward her neck. "Such a curious little thing, aren't you... don't you know what happens to little girls who are curious?"

Aerie looked into the vampire's eyes, saw the intent, and knew she was out of time. There would be no villain's exposition from him before he struck and brought her corpse to the others to feed... which left but one option. Aerie tensed, unable to move her head or neck in the vampire's vise like grip. He snarled and opened his jaws, ready to sink his fangs into her teeth- he jerked to a stop, eyes widening with the sudden intrusion of something wooden and pointed into the shriveled black thing that had been his heart. He looked down and saw a wooden stake plunged into his chest, and he had just enough time to howl in agony before crumbling into dust, leaving behind ash and his clothing. Aerie knelt and hurriedly fished through his pockets, looking for the key he had used to enter the jails... it was gone?

She stood with a fright, knowing that his howl would have alerted the others- she bolted for the cell door, swinging it open and running down the hall back toward the exit as fast as she could manage, not looking to the left or right as vampires snarled and emerged from the 'bedrooms' all along the hall, giving chase. Her heart felt as though it would burst from its chest as she finally skidded back into the main office area of the jails, back by the entrance- she tugged in desperation at the door, but to no avail. It didn't budge and all she could do was turn in despair as dozens of vampires emerged into the room, stopping as they clustered around her, back to the stone and brick mortar. She held the wooden stake in one hand and nothing else- she'd left the Flail of Ages off her person, being too bulky to hide easily. All she had left was her magic... which was to say, quite a bit.

One of the vampires who had been in the tavern as a courtesan barked a laugh, baring his claws as he hunched in position to leap. "Foolish girl... trapped in here with us, all alone!"

He leapt at her, the first in the wave of darkness- a blinding light shone all around her and the vampire screamed in pain, rolling with burns all over his body as he crumpled away, dissolving into mist, too weak to maintain his form. The other vampires, lowering their arms to shield themselves from the blinding light, no longer saw a scared elf, cowering before them. She was standing her ground, palms together and fingers clasped, chanting as she spoke the words to turn the undead- the pupils of her eyes were white as she stared them down, the vampires hissing and spitting with malice, unable to approach. Without warning, she stopped and shouted a word of Power, a Sunfire igniting all around her and driving them back even further. When they were able to look up once more, Aerie was floating above the ground, mist and light swirling around her as she called upon the full might of her clerical powers. A Bolt of Glory erupted from an outstretched hand with a boom of holy power, impaling one of the vampires and sending him to oblivion. Aerie spoke, her voice echoing throughout the room. "Perhaps you have misjudged just who is trapped in here with who..."