Author's Note: Credit goes to G3's Idobek for the Deathbringer kit definition! Seriously, try it out, it's a good mod. Oh, and it's time for that General Disclaimer again! Don't own anything but Greywulf. Don't sue me.

The cold, empty void of the darkness that surrounded her- a crushing blackness that weighed upon her soul, making every breath an exertion and an attempt not to panic, not to lose what sanity she'd managed to maintain here, alone. Imoen took one step forward, then another, her feet landing on nothing below, even as there was nothing above but stars and inky darkness that enveloped her like a cloak fifty sizes too big. Her eyes flit back and forth, looking for something, anything familiar, something that might signal an end or a light in the shadow- but nothing. Only the terrible, unending feeling that she was alone- really and truly alone. The memory of her time in Spellhold, broken under the tortures of Irenicus and Bodhi came unbidden back to her- no. They were dead, and she'd had a hand in killing them. This was... something else.

Imoen stopped, trying to quell the growing drumbeat of her heart, trying to stop the cold trickle of sweat down her neck as she focused on what she knew was real. She was real. Her friends were real- wherever they were. All she had to do was find them- find Greywulf, or Minsc, or Jaheira, and she'd be just fine. That's all she needed. She was an arch-mage after all... Imoen tried to speak the words to a spell, but it was if the very darkness stole her words into the night and quieted them, making her incantations useless. Her arms felt like they were mired in quicksand, and any attempts to draw the runes for spellcraft were too slow and awkward to work properly.

Everything gone... all her powers taken. Where was she? A dark, muffled laugh echoed all around her as Imoen spun in place, looking for the source of the malevolent laughter- and the world followed suit. Spinning like a top, the darkness remained, but it was interspersed now, tucked in between the ruins of stone walls and guard towers, in the midst of castles long since overgrown and torn down. She recognized the walls, the houses, the ragged banners. It was Saradush... Saradush if the siege were successful. Everything was burned and ravaged- skeletons and charred bones littered the ground along with broken swords and shattered shields. The ground shook and Imoen looked up, her fears suddenly jumping to the forefront of her mind once more. Towering over the ruins of the city, eyes as black as the void surrounding them, stood the Laughing Death- a twisted, perverse version of herself. Pink hair spun around that mockery of a face- it laughed again, then leaned over, her frenzied, perverse grin filling Imoen's world. "I.... SEE... YOU!!"

Imoen ran for cover, trying to hide behind something, anything that would block her gaze, but there was no way she'd be fast enough. A hand swept down to grab her- if she were caught, there was no way to escape. Right as the Laughing Death's fingers brushed against Imoen from behind- the sound of lightning and thunder echoed with a deafening boom. The Laughing Death stumbled backwards, holding a smoking portion of her chest with a vicious glare at the culprit. Imoen craned her head upward with disbelief- it was *her*... but not her. A younger, innocent, purer version perhaps? There were none of the lines, none of the stress or scars crossing her features- in fact, she looked much like she had when leaving Candlekeep for the first time.

Her double raised a hand once more and a fireball as big as the city itself leapt to consume the Laughing Death in its embrace- the monster sneered and pushed both hands out, slowly but surely redirecting it, the flame shuddering as the energies surrounding it were reversed- it leapt back at Imoen and her guardian. Imoen leapt behind a crumbled building, praying for escape- it detonated, and the planks and foundations of her cover blew away like dust, leaving Imoen exposed once more. The Laughing Death howled in victory, then vaulted towards her, one hand extended to grab Imoen once again- she felt a sudden tightening around her waist as her protector snatched her up first, holding her close in wary defense.

The Laughing Death snarled and changed course, instead moving to tackle this annoyance, this guardian- the two tumbled into the burned stone ruins of the castle, crumbling it beneath their bodies as they landed, Imoen being jerked back and forth as her protector tried desperately to keep her from harm's way- too late. A punch from Imoen's monstrous, twisted side left her protector's grip weakened, and with a slam against her wrist, her hand opened completely, sending Imoen tumbling across the stones in pain. She was not free for long- the Laughing Death snatched her up and all Imoen could do was scream as the inky blackness in her eyes and the mocking laughter of her mouth overtook the world, sending everything else to oblivion-

Imoen bolted upright with a scream beginning to leap from her mouth, only to find a firm and steady hand bracing her shoulder, giving her something real, something tangible to hold on to. Jaheira was kneeling beside her, brow knit with concern as Imoen slowly began to calm, closing her eyes in relief. "Jaheira..."

"Yes, it is I." the druid sighed, embracing the young girl, only trembling slightly. "You and Greywulf gave us quite the scare... it is good to see you two back to normal."

Imoen chuckled humorlessly, repeating her old friend's words. "Normal- heh. Not sure I'd call any of us- what the?! Dammit Jaheira, why didn't you tell me we were back here?! Yeesh, just about gave me a heart attack!"

Jaheira glanced behind her to where Imoen's gaze had drifted, watching the lightning-filled green sky, the charcoal-black clouds, and of course, the demonic faces and statues leering over the rocky platform they were lying on. The Pocket Plane that Greywulf had mastery over... they'd come here after Greywulf's desperate attempt at ending their taint-induced suffering. Imoen winced, rubbing her head and only then realizing that she wasn't, in fact, lying on the rocky ground. She had been on a wooden cot of sorts with blankets that were comfortable enough to sleep on- though where they had come from was another matter. Imoen was obviously still confused and reeling from her experience, so Jaheira exhaled softly and began explaining.

"After the two of you... absorbed, I think, the Bhaal-essence from Gromnir, it began to do... something to you. Do not ask me what, I should think that the two of you would understand it far better than I. It looked as though it would drive you mad. Greywulf brought us back here, to the Pocket Plane, though whether it was intentional or not, I cannot answer. Soon after we arrived, both of you calmed down."

"And the bed I'm on?" Imoen asked, flipping her legs out so that she could come to a sitting position opposite Jaheira.

"The imp, Cespenar." Jaheira sighed, glancing over at the fluttering bundle of energy, zipping hurriedly back and forth between the different crevasses and corners of the platform, squealing excitedly at times and murmuring to himself. "He has some influence over this place, though it seems limited to simple items such as these. According to him, Greywulf could do much the same if he exerted the will- though on a much grander scale."

"Then tell him to conjure us up some baths and some food." Imoen quipped, resting her chin on her hands. "I'm hungry and I haven't bathed in days. Neither have you, from the looks of your clothes, heh."

Jaheira glared, but she did acknowledge the point- she'd discarded her armor once they'd arrived and her tunic and leathers beneath were not exactly in the cleanest of condition. Imoen peered around the realm, looking for the others. "Where is he, anyway?"

"Still being healed by Aerie." Jaheira answered, raising one arm gingerly to point across the rocky platform, where in the green-tinted light, one could make out a petite form leaning over a prone man, flashes of light that must have been the expulsions of magical energy lighting up every now and then. "He was injured grievously in the battle with Gromnir. It will be some time before he is at full capacity again."

"Yeah, I remember..." Imoen muttered, before frowning and glaring heavily at Jaheira. "What about you? I remember you gettin' nailed pretty good back there too..."

"I will be fine." Jaheira stated, meeting Imoen's glare with one of her own, the unspoken command to drop the subject. "I have been healed of the worst of it. That is all you need to know-"

Imoen leapt to her feet and sprinted behind Jaheira, the druid unable to move quickly enough to keep Imoen in front of her. Not that she could have moved anything resembling the word 'quick' at all, which was understandable once Imoen got a look at her back. The leather tunic she wore had been sliced into, crimson staining the entire back. The torn, blood drenched leather showed off a red, scab covered wound that ran from her left shoulder to the right side of her waist, and from the tender way she continued to try and turn to face Imoen, seated upon the small wooden stool Cespenar had conjured up, it was clear that the wound was anything but healed.

When Jaheira finally managed to turn around to face Imoen, the thief-mage was standing with hands planted on hips, shaking her head with both concern and disapproval. "And yer trying to keep me lying down? Get on that cot and stay there until Aerie can come take a look at this. Gods know you probably just did a quick fix on yourself and told Aerie to go work on Greywulf while you 'healed' me..."

"First of all, I find it amusing that you think you can command me to do anything." Jaheira said with a hint of smugness in her tone, though it was not meant unkindly. "Second, I told Aerie to heal Greywulf not to avoid drawing attention to my own injuries, but because he needed it the most. She has spent more time devoted to mastering those spells of healing, while I have focused more on the usefulness of my magic in combat. To put it bluntly, Aerie is... a better healer than I, all things equal."

Imoen blinked once, then twice. She opened her mouth to speak before Jaheira raised a finger, a look of warning in her green eyes. "But that is something you will not say to her."

"It wouldn't kill you to compliment her once in a while." Imoen sighed with a nod as she walked back to sit on the bed, crossing her legs with her lips pursed in partial annoyance. "I talk to her a lot, y'know. More than you do... and whether she knows it or not, she's constantly looking for your approval. Maybe not as outright as she used to, but Aerie still looks up to you."

Jaheira turned to look at the young elf as she continued her work with Greywulf, concentrating solely on the work she'd been tasked with. The druid turned back to Imoen and smiled with a hint of sadness... or perhaps it was regret? "I know. Believe me, I understand only too well. As much as it pains me, I keep my approval to a minimum so that she will strive ever harder to earn it... and become that much better in the end. Perhaps it is a cruel way to inspire her... but she needed it. She was little more than a naive child when she first met us-"

"And now she's one of the most powerful spell-slingers on Faerun." Imoen scowled. "She's not the same girl anymore. Maybe you should stop treating her like it."

Jaheira paused, then nodded quietly to Imoen. "I shall consider it, though such decisions as the one she made in the jails beneath the Castle do not help any. Maybe once things have calmed down- once Greywulf has been healed, she and I will speak."

"Good to hear it." the thief smiled with approval, looking around the room once more, scanning for the others. "Hmph. I guess Sarevok's being as anti-social as ever, though I can't say that's a bad thing. Hey, I didn't see Mellissan here before. Looks like Minsc is keeping her company."

"And a good thing of it too." Jaheira stated. "I cannot imagine that traveling to an interplanar demonic realm is something she experiences every day. Still, Minsc has done a fine job of keeping her at peace. He has a calming spirit about him."

"That's one way to put it." Imoen chuckled. "In all seriousness though, I think you should go get yerself some rest. I'll go and check in with the others. Knowing ol' Grey, he'll probably want us to get back on the move once everyone's been healed up."

Jaheira shook her head, motioning for Imoen to stay seated. "I would disagree. Once Greywulf is healed, you and he need to find out what happened when Gromnir died. Rather, what the effects were on the two of you. The essence of Bhaal entered you two... but that did not occur when Illasera died, or when Sarevok was killed the first time. Something has changed, and until we find out what, you two must keep yourself out of harm's way."

She rolled her eyes, grumbling quietly, "Yer sounding like Sarevok, the bufflehead. Talkin like Greywulf and I are more important than the rest of you..."

Jaheira paused, and then spoke, though hesitation was evident in her tone. "As much as you may not wish to hear it... Sarevok is right in this case. The two of you are more important than Aerie, Minsc, myself, and especially Sarevok. Whatever the prophecies hold for the children of Bhaal, it surrounds you and Greywulf... not us. Our job is to keep you safe and able to find your destiny amidst all this madness... as it has always been."

Imoen thought back to when Khalid and Jaheira first joined her and Greywulf, all those years ago... "It has, hasn't it? Yer right about one thing, I guess. I didn't want to hear that."

Across the rocky plateau, Aerie found herself suddenly short of breath as she continued working on Greywulf's wounds, or more specifically, the long axe gash running straight across his chest. She realized rather quickly that it was because she was periodically holding her breath whenever she'd reach particularly difficult parts, like trying to close the gap of flesh and meat without tearing it open again. Aerie paused, felt her hands stop trembling, and then whispered the words to her spells once more. The tip of her index finger began glowing a pale blue as she ran it from the top of the nasty wound to the bottom, watching intently as the cut closed behind it, if only a little. It was still too deep, too grievous to heal quickly, but she had done nearly all her powers would allow her to do without rest. He was out of any danger, so long as he didn't try to sit up anytime soon, she supposed.

A faint groan issued from his mouth- Aerie let herself smile a bit. Knowing him, that would be the first thing he'd try to do. She spoke quickly and early, hoping he could hear her. "Don't sit up just yet- you'll tear open the wound again. It's just now settled- wait another day or so."

"Mmph... that you Aerie?" Greywulf muttered, eyes still shut tight as he grimaced. The wound might have been closed, but it still felt like there was a blade of fire jammed in his chest. "Guess we made it out all right..."

"I suppose, yes." Aerie chose her words carefully; if he knew Jaheira was still in poor shape- and she was, no doubt about it, he'd probably want to do something foolish like go to her. Or sit up. "I've done most of what I can do for today... we'll all need some sleep and then we can start again. I think Mellissan would rather be gone from this place, and I can't blame her. It may be your plane, but this place still frightens me."

Greywulf opened his eyes, looking up into the thunderous green sky- he laughed humorlessly, only to grunt in pain as his chest wound throbbed from the exertion. "Damn it... ah. All right, I suppose I could use a bit of a nap. Thanks Aerie."

Aerie smiled briefly, then shook her head as she began bandaging the wound tenderly. "You don't have to thank me, you know."

"No... no, I do." Greywulf continued quietly, catching her eyes. "We take you and Jaheira for granted in the party, and that's a shame. So thank you."

She paused, then nodded in gratitude. "Very well. Does this mean that you forgive me for what I did back in Saradush?"

Greywulf frowned for a moment, and then figured out what she was referring to. He sighed, wincing as her lithe fingers tightened the bandages over his chest. "I'll be honest with you. I think it was a mistake, and I don't agree with the decision. Having said that, I wasn't there. You were. You were the one facing that situation, and you did what you had to in order to get us through and save yourself. I don't know what I would've- or could've done in your place."

He paused, only to hear her cough slightly, clearing her throat. "Is that a 'Yes, I forgive you'?"

He smiled, trying not to laugh for fear of reopening his wound. "Yes, I suppose it is. Besides, I don't think I have much business judging anyone here- not with what happened back at Gromnir's castle. You said everyone's okay? Imoen too?"

"Imoen too." Aerie nodded, finishing her healing as a sudden fluttering got her attention. Cespenar had flown to their sides, his glinting black eyes peering at Greywulf with concern and interest. "Ooooh... Cespenar is glad to see master okay! Was not looking forward to finding a new job so soons after coming back! Is you comfortable, master? You want Cespenar to conjure more beds and thingses?"

"Thanks for the concern, Cespenar." Greywulf craned his head up and pointed at the others. "I bet the rest of the party could do with something to lie down on besides hard rock. Beds for them and Mellissan, too. I'd tell you to keep her company, but I think Minsc has got that handled."

Cespenar nodded eagerly, then fluttered off on his slightly undersized wings, humming to himself as he summoned beds and other articles of furniture that might have resembled beds... if they were nine feet tall and had six legs. Aerie returned her attention to the man lying before her, then bit her lip- it was a habit she'd picked up from Imoen, and Greywulf spotted it immediately. He smiled and offered, "You can say whatever it is you're thinking. I know that look of hesitation too well."

Aerie smiled, then spoke. "I was just... well, I was wondering about what you did back there... when you and Imoen absorbed the Bhaal taint. How it affected you, I s-suppose."

"That's a good question, but I'm afraid I'm not the one to ask." Greywulf sighed, turning to where he could point off at the far end of the rocky platform. "If you're looking for answers, and I know I will be- he's the one to ask. You asked why we're taking him with us... this is the reason why."

Aerie's face wrinkled in disgust as she looked over at Sarevok, meditating alone. "I suppose you're right... but that doesn't mean I have to like him."

"Not at all. In fact, I'd say nobody here likes him. But I will admit I've grown... tolerant, of his presence. And after all, he *is* my brother. Rather, one of the few who isn't actively trying to kill me at the moment."

His attempts at humor did little to calm her spirits; Aerie watched the big man in the corner for a moment more than turned back to Greywulf with a shake of the head. "I don't trust him at all... he'll betray us. The way he stares with those yellow eyes... they're so intense. It happened to you when the taint took you... but why-"

"Are his glowing yellow permanently?" Greywulf sighed. "Another question you'd have to ask him, if you really want to know. But as for the other 'why'... to intimidate. He is a Deathbringer, after all."

"I never really knew what that meant- I've heard stories of them before, but what are they?" Aerie asked quietly, as though afraid Sarevok would overhear, as far away as he was.

"A Deathbringer." Greywulf suppressed a cough, wincing at the pain involved the effort. "A warrior who has studied how to maximize the fear in his opponent, to so totally incapacitate and terrify them that victory can be achieved with a single blow... or in some cases, before a blow has even been struck. They devote their whole training to bringing out that fear, that ability to invoke horror in those they fight. If you want my guess, I'd say it's another part of his training, some magic he learned that he uses to scare his opponents."

"Well, it sure scares me." Aerie grumbled. "Can't he… shut them off, or something?"

"Probably." Greywulf shrugged. "That's the other problem with Deathbringers… they train so fiercely for battle that when it comes to normal life, they have a hard time not letting those impulses and instincts dominate them even then. Not that I can picture Sarevok living a 'normal' life."

"Why would they want to become such a thing?" Aerie shook her head, not understanding. "Why would you want to inspire nothing but fear in all those you meet? What kind of life is that?"

"I've asked myself that a couple of times, Aerie." Greywulf sighed, letting his head rest back as he stared up into the endless void. "I don't know… they say that those who lust for power and attain a measure of it always want more. That a taste is never enough."

"Not you." Aerie glanced at him. "You're not like that; you only use power because you have to. It's what you've taught me to do… what you've taught all of us."

"Have I?" Greywulf smiled briefly. "I sometimes wonder just how much of the power I wield is fueled by my mastery of magic, and how much comes from the taint within. Perhaps not the Slayer, but… subtle ways. Untapped reservoirs of energy I didn't know I had. Strength of will that comes to me when I'm tapped out. Power in my spells I can barely control… magic is a delicate art, as you well know, Aerie… so much more when one begins to manipulate the tendrils and currents of magic itself, rather than the mere shaping of scroll bound spells. So much power is necessary… would I have survived as long as I have without the taint within? Has it been responsible for me living this long?"

"You are pure of heart." Aerie whispered as Greywulf let his head rest backwards again, weariness settling in upon the sorcerer once more as his eyes closed quietly, gently. "The taint does not have mastery over you yet… I do not believe it ever will."

X X X X X X

In the shadowed halls of Amkethran's monastery overlooking the town itself, the head of the monastic order sat at a table, his eyes closed as he wrapped himself tighter in the simple brown robes he wore. The time had come to reconvene them all once more. The Four, once Five, had to be informed of what had just taken place. Of the danger that faced them all. The others were all in separate locations, carrying out their bloody tasks- it was left to him to coordinate their movements, to summon their voices when the situation required it. And it was the lesser of the evils, he supposed, when it came down to it. Going out and slaughtering innocents to find his brothers and sisters, or simply ordering four others to do the same, telling them where and when to kill those innocents?

He pushed the thoughts from his head- it had to be done. And in the end, the world might not thank him for it- but his conscience would be satisfied, and that was enough. It *had* to be enough. Still, he had not come to this table of blood, the brass embossing of the symbol of Bhaal in the center glowing green as the portal spells began activating, to simply meditate on his lot in life. From his sanctuary in the desert, Balthazar saw all- and he knew that the time was close.

In line, three portals of magic opened across from him, each one displaying the face of his kin. On the left- the gruff, bearded sneer of the giant. "What is it?! Yaga-Shura cannot be bothered every passing moment to track another measly spawn! Saradush is mine!"

"And it will remain so, Yaga-Shura." Balthazar said calmly, hoping to quell the appropriately fiery temper of the mammoth. "There are so few left... most reside in the city you hold under your foot as we speak."

"Then why this meeting?" a silky, venomous voice interjected. The second portal- Sendai's dark features glimmered into view, her red eyes piercing Balthazar's with anger. "Is it Gorion's wards? Have they made themselves known?"

"In a manner of speaking." Balthazar clasped his hands on the table and stared both god-spawn down darkly. "Somehow they made their way inside Saradush. They killed Gromnir Il-Khan- the last defense of the city has fallen."

"Then Yaga-Shura may strike now!" the giant roared in anticipation. "My spies shall bring down the shields and I will grind them beneath my hammer!"

"It would be wise to remain cautious, Yaga-Shura." the third portal opened- the draconian visage of Abazigal shone through, his reptilian eyes narrowing as he folded his scaly arms. "Manpower should not be wasted so. Especially if Gorion's wards are among the defenders of Saradush."

"We still do not know how they got in... what if they find a way out?" Sendai added.

"It matters not! Have you forgotten my power? They cannot harm me, regardless of their vaunted strength!" Yaga-Shura laughed, spittle flying into his beard.

"Do not grow too confident in your own strength, giant." Balthazar turned to stare into Yaga-Shura's flickering image, the portals slowly closing as the magic relented. "Greywulf has killed Illasera, Gromnir and Sarevok… we must not take chances. Kill him swiftly. No mercy for this Bhaalspawn."

Sneers from the giant, withering glares from the drow, and calculating malice from the half-dragon. Each one of his allies, so very predictable. so completely wrapped up in their own worlds, in their own delusions and dreams. So tempting to abandon them now, to let them meet the fate they had so justly earned for themselves... no. Not while Greywulf and Imoen yet lived. They had to die first. Then... then, he could avenge the blood of the innocent. Then he could find peace, if such a thing were even possible for one such as him.

X X X X X X

"We're sorry for the abrupt transition... at least you know now how we got in and out of the city." Greywulf offered with a faint smile, extending a hand to Mellissan, the noblewoman taking it in surprisingly good grace considering how strange and nerve-wracking the experience must have been. Since their arrival almost two days prior, Mellissan had scarcely moved from the sides of one of the party, always remaining close by, presumably for fear of one of the demonic statues coming to life and sucking out her soul. Well, perhaps not that, but she had never strayed far, and to be honest, that was probably for the best. Greywulf was still unsure of how much power he could exert over the Bhaal-realm, consciously or unconsciously. For everyone's sake, it would be better for her to leave and return to whatever it was she had been doing before being sucked into the battle with Gromnir and the rest of them. A question, in retrospect, that still needed to be answered.

"Still, we never did get a chance to ask you- why was Gromnir holding you hostage? I thought you were in negotiations with him." the sorcerer posed the question as he leaned heavily on his quarterstaff, trying to avoid putting too much strain on his chest. It still hurt to breathe, but there wasn't the time to get back to full strength. Half- or less, even, would have to do.

"I had hoped to stop the bloodshed that I feared your meeting with him would bring, to tell the truth." Mellissan said quietly, folding her arms but refusing to lower her gaze, unashamed. "Perhaps you think less of me for a lack of trust in you finding a peaceful solution, but I did what I thought was best, and shall not apologize for such."

"He left us no choice, woman." Sarevok said through narrowed eyes, his defiant glare matching her own. "I would rather know how you intended to 'help' the rest of your blind followers in the city if you gave yourself up like a lamb to the slaughter. I did not see any chance of you surviving your encounter with the half-orc. Like so many other idealistic fools... weak, and naive."

"Watch your tongue, warrior." Mellissan defended, shooting the Deathbringer a dark glare. "I am not without my own skills, in both fighting and magic. Had it come down to it, I could have escaped Gromnir's clutches. You had best take care when dealing with those you do not fully understand."

"As much as I love seeing Sarevok taken down a few notches, we should probably try and work together here, right?" Imoen interrupted, sighing with regret at not being able to watch the conflict play itself out further. "The point is we're all safe... and mostly none the worse fer' wear. Now we went ahead and did what you needed us to do- we got Gromnir out of power, even if it weren't exactly the way you wanted it."

"Imoen is right." Minsc nodded solemnly. "We have done what we must- now tell us how to stop the evil giant outside the city! Minsc is afraid that we do not have much time..."

"And you are right to fear." Mellissan sighed, the fire within seemingly dying for the moment. "I knew the chance of Gromnir joining you was slim, but I thought he might listen to reason. I was desperate to end this siege, and I…I was wrong. I'm sorry. Now I fear we are all doomed; with the exception of this Pocket Plane, there is no way out of Saradush. Between the army and the strange imprisoning magics, even our wizards are trapped in the city."

"But it's not too late for us to transport out, even if we can't get the rest of the civilians." Aerie reasoned quietly. "We could confront Yaga-Shura... perhaps draw him away from the city?"

"An assault against his army, massed as it is would be nothing short of suicide." Jaheira remarked, but her brow was knitted in deep thought as she spoke. "Perhaps there is another way..."

"There is no other way, short of confrontation of some kind. Understand, Greywulf, that this siege is but the beginning." Mellissan shook her head firmly, fixing gazes with the half-elf. "Until this threat is ended, it doesn't matter where we go… we are in danger of being exterminated by Yaga-Shura and his allies. Eventually, even you would be overwhelmed by their power. I…I know more about them. The other Bhaalspawn allied with the giant- more than I'm saying, as your suspicious looks betray. But I will not tell you everything unless you try to save Saradush. I'm sorry that it must be this way, but I cannot allow this to continue as it has."

The sound of Cespenar cheering as he dug through the assorted packs of items that the party had left aside for him to check drew a sideways glare of disgust from Sarevok before he returned his blazing stare to the noblewoman."You ask much and have delivered very little. Why should we continue to entrust our lives to you?"

"I am surprised that you would challenge me in this manner, Sarevok." Mellissan defended herself. "I know much of you, Anchev. I knew of you when you lived the first time. Can you not agree that sometimes, when dealing with the Children of Bhaal…sometimes…the ends must justify the means? This, I fear, is my only offer to you."

"Then tell us what must be done, and we shall do everything in our power to make it happen." Greywulf answered, slightly unnerved by the constant jibes and prods between the two of them.

Mellissan's face blossomed into a smile of relief. "Thank you, Greywulf, for your trust. I promise that you shall not regret what you do here. As your friends have suggested, the army outside must be destroyed. The main force of soldiers itself is immaterial- if you fought your way to Yaga-Shura and defeated him, the rest would collapse."

"Minsc was worried for a moment." the ranger chuckled, checking the edge of his axe. "Boo and Minsc have felled giants before! Some of them walk taller, and some of them walk stronger, but no giant walks louder than Minsc!!"

"I am glad you find the task to be easy, but I assure you it will prove anything but." Mellissan said coldly, folding her arms beneath her dirty blue robes, her beautiful features icy at the subject of the enemy of everything she'd worked for. "He is a powerful fire giant, as you say, but the 'gifts' his blood has passed to him include invulnerability to harm. Arrows, blades - even the most powerful of our spells and enchanted weapons leave no permanent mark. He heals faster than we can wound him."

"That's... going to be a problem." Imoen frowned. "Are you telling us Yaga-Shura is invincible?"

"Yaga-Shura was not born with this immunity. He developed it, learned it somehow during his childhood spent in a secret glade in the Forest of Mir. I can show you where that glade is on a map…but it is only speculation. The key to the giant's invulnerability might lay there, but it might not. There may be nothing there at all." Mellissan shrugged.

"And what if this glade of yours is nothing more than an empty swamp?" Sarevok challenged. "What then?"

"Then there is only one other place to look, though it is far more dangerous." she warned. "Yaga-Shura has attracted a large number of fanatical devotees of his kind. They worship him as a god, as you can well imagine. They built a temple to him in the Marching Mountains, though many of them are in his army, now…that may mean the temple is vulnerable to your attack. Perhaps Yaga-Shura's secret is hidden there. I know little else of the temple."

"For the one who claims to protect the Bhaalspawn, you're not really making this easy on us. In my experiences, going into situations like these without reliable info ends in disaster." Greywulf forced out, admittedly hesitant to rush into potentially deadly locales without any measure of certainty. "Why do you think any of this will pan out in the end?"

"Because if it doesn't," she said with a pained look on her face, "Then all the poor Bhaalspawn that I have tried to aid, including you, are doomed. Yaga-Shura and his allies will have their way. We must have hope."

Greywulf allowed himself a brief smile. "I understand that, at least; I told those same words to a friend long ago… holding onto hope. Very well. We shall destroy this 'invincible' fire giant, whatever it takes."

"I…know it is much to ask of you." she admitted. "Whether it means anything to you or not: thank you. Now… if you would, send me back to Saradush. There is must that must still be done there, and I have tarried overlong in this dreadful place as it stands now."

Greywulf nodded, raising a hand and focusing the energy within, the power focused upon his taint... the maw that guarded the entrance and exit to the plane opened wide and enveloped Mellissan in a blinding flash of light. Even as she traveled through time and space, passing through dimensions to return to the mortal realm, the two apprentices of Errard ascended the stairs of the city's walls. As explosions rocked the weakening shield surrounding the city, both apprentices drew daggers, concealing them inside the sleeves of their robes.

Errard's eyes were closed, his concentration devoted fully to sustaining the protection of the city. Still, he sensed the approach of the two men he had trained and taught- he kept his eyes closed, sweat rolling down his face as he spoke. "What is so important, my students, that you would interrupt me while I lead the defense of this god-forsaken city? Speak quickly!"

The two men exchanged wicked glances, and lunged forward as one. Twin streaks of blood stained the stone walkway upon the walls of the city, and in moments, explosions and catapult rounds began rocking the walls of the city, sending stone and brick and mortar crumbling to the ground. Screams began echoing through the city- the walls had been breached, and as Yaga-Shura walked through the gaping hole in the wall, arrows and lightning bolts striking him from all sides, he simply threw his head back and laughed, raising his war hammer high. The slaughter was about to begin.