The temperature in the Pocket Plane was a low chill, and there was little difference whether on one side or the other of the cavernous void that the rocky platform supported them within. Perhaps it was simply an internal chill from the numerous howls that seemed to echo till forever in the green, cloud filled skies, or maybe the reptilian pupils staring from multi-colored eyes lining the rocks of their home. Regardless, the man walking across the platform tugged his gray cloak tighter around him, wrapping himself in the cloth, as though trying to keep himself secluded, separate from everything around him.
He knew the others were watching, wondering... why. And it was a question he wasn't entirely sure he had the answer to, in truth. All he knew was that it was the right thing to do. For himself? For them? For Faerun? That was another question. He'd had a lot of those lately, far too many unanswered. Hopefully, he was about to get a few of them squared away. Greywulf slowly, methodically, descended the path leading to the first of the challenges that his own world had treated him to- also the only challenge that had yet to unlock and submit to the 'mastery' he held over this realm. The other four portals remained mystically closed, but here, in this place where he had fought and battled alongside the one he had called mortal enemy for so long, he was master. And whether a response to his desire or to his nature, the demonic influences inside had dissipated as of late. The eyes were shut, the jagged fangs had retracted and left remarkable flat walls, a granite room that would make an artist envious of the craftsmanship of the smooth rock surfaces.
Greywulf spotted the man he had come to this private place to speak with, standing opposite of him, his face to the wall and hands clasped behind him. Sarevok had taken to using this secluded location as a place to meditate- a place where he could be free of the presence of those who, admittedly, had little time for him and his influences. Still, this place was perfect for the conversation that needed to happen... for Greywulf's sake, if nothing else. The sorcerer's footfalls were enough to alert the Deathbringer of his presence, but apparently not enough to draw his full attention. Just another little personality quirk that irritated him to death.
The world rippled around him, and Sarevok smirked ever so slightly, knowing what had just happened. He turned, pulling out the wooden chair from the simple table that Greywulf had hand-waved into existence, running one hand over the wood as though it would disappear the moment he stopped paying attention. Greywulf sat across him, the sorcerer's green eyes glinting in the shadows as he met his brother's gaze. Sarevok spoke first, making no effort to hide the satisfaction he felt in this situation. "Impressive work, brother... though your talents are wasted on frivolous items like these. Surely your imp servant told you of the reaches that your power in this realm could command?"
"Cespenar told me what I'm capable of here." Greywulf nodded, keeping his tone level, trying to stay civil and keep emotion out of the conversation for as long as possible. Not an easy task when dealing with a man who had tried on numerous occasions to take his head off. "He also told me what kind of power it takes to keep this place up and running, even if it's only done unconsciously. I think a table and some chairs will do for now."
"Pfeh." Sarevok snorted, dismissive of the caution shown by his perceived-to-be-weaker sibling. "You hesitate yet again? I had thought you learned your lesson well enough at Jhaeri's dwelling. Or was Ardic's death meaningless to you?"
The casual mention of the young man's death was not lost on Greywulf, and if one looked closely, they could spy the fire rising in Greywulf's eyes already. "I didn't know you cared so much. That's not like you."
"That's because I don't care about the boy, or his mother, or that city." Sarevok retorted, yellow eyes darkening to a dim glow in the shadow. "You and your potential are what concern me. And what effects these... distractions, have upon you. You speak of your power as if it were something to be feared, to be hidden. But you know all that is changing, don't you? It's why you're here to speak with me, after all."
The heart of the matter... he was right, really. Whatever power was being derived from the taint was becoming more than a simple gut feeling, a small whisper in his head that could be blocked out. The taint was growing stronger- much like when his soul was taken by Irenicus, the voice of the Slayer found its way into his waking mind more and more these days. "You know me too well. We brought you with us for a reason, and it's time to show us we weren't crazy for letting you tag along. What happened to Imoen and me?"
Sarevok did not answer immediately- he paused, considering his words before leaning backward, shaking his head ever so slightly. He was toying with him- and that thought made Greywulf angry. "Good." No- no, Greywulf blinked a moment, wondering he had really just heard that deep bass tone around him, or if it was all in his head.
"I shall answer your question- but answer me first." Sarevok challenged, glancing toward the entrance of the cavern they sat in together. "You know how much your companions value your life, your future. Our dear sister is as involved in this matter as you... why then did you request- demand, even- that we meet alone?"
That question again- and once again, just like five minutes prior, Greywulf didn't have an answer. At least, not an answer that led anywhere he wanted to go. Telling Sarevok that, however, wasn't really an option. He put on a confident face, or at least a mask that knew what he was talking about, and replied calmly, "You think I'm a fool? I know how much you love tormenting them. And you don't respect Imoen, no matter how much she might have earned it. I'm the only one here you might be willing to treat like an equal, so drop the act."
"Haha... perhaps I should say the same?" his sibling mocked, dark laughter reverberating all around them. "I deceived thousands when I tried to conquer Baldur's Gate. I can tell when someone lies to my face, brother. And you, for all your skills and talents, cannot lie to me. I know why you hide your weaker sister from our discussion. Why you exclude those you claim to trust."
"Enlighten me, then. You claim to know what's going in my head so well... take your best shot." Greywulf challenged, oddly intrigued by what Sarevok would have to offer. Not that he really felt his murderous sibling would be able to offer any useful insight... but the man had surprised him before. What harm could there be?
Sarevok reclined back in his chair for a moment, tapping one finger on the side of his bald, tattooed head. "I had been wondering for some time who you reminded me of. A nagging, obnoxious familiarity that made me dig into my memories to see just who you mirrored. Then it struck me- you remind me of myself... before I was slaughtered and cast into the Abyss."
The big man paused a moment, waiting expectantly for the sorcerer to speak, but when nothing came, a glimmer of surprise showed on Sarevok's features. "Well then. No quick retort? No vehement, clichéd denial? Good then, that you understand your fears. Your hesitation- wondering just when those you trust and love will begin to see the same things they loathe in me beginning to show themselves in you."
That was enough to draw him out, just as Sarevok had known it would- Greywulf was far too predictable. The cloaked and hooded sorcerer leaned in, his voice dark and raspy as though afraid the others would hear their conversation, far away as they were. "You're a murderer who kills for power. That has never been my goal, and it never will be."
"Really? Are you certain?" Sarevok leered for a moment, smirking as he folded his broad arms. "How many men have you killed? Men who had families, who were, perhaps, guarding a man based not on their own beliefs or convictions, but solely for the money they would receive? Money to feed or clothe their children. Men who were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time... that being in your path."
Ridiculous. He was stretching the limits of incredulity, just trying to make up reasons for him to feel guilty, trying to draw the connection between them... and yet, damn it all if there wasn't a bit of truth to those taunts. Greywulf felt his throat tighten, readying himself to speak again, before the Deathbringer cut him off once more. "And do not tell me you have forgotten your role in the destruction of Brynnlaw. I was impressed to hear of that, brother... an entire island? It almost puts my past accomplishments to shame."
"Enough." Greywulf snapped, inwardly wondering just how much more he would be able to take from this infuriating man. "You say I've changed and you're damn right. But I'm not turning into you... it's something far more terrible than you ever were. And for all your goads and taunts, you'd be mighty sorry if I ever gave in to that voice in my head right now."
His words didn't quite make sense on first inspection- Sarevok nodded in realization, and despite himself, felt a touch of hesitation. The cold steel in Greywulf's voice spoke to how far he had pushed him. Still, as he had told his siblings earlier, he had not gotten to where he was in life without taking risks. And in the end, provoking the man who had killed him twice now might be one of the riskiest things he'd ever done.
"You speak of the avatar of Bhaal that you have mastered. The Slayer... it strikes me as slightly unfair that you were chosen to receive its power while I languished in human form all my days as a Bhaalspawn."
Greywulf almost laughed aloud at that statement- as if he had any sort of 'mastery' over the Slayer. He had thought, for a time, that it was gone. Or at least, under control so long as he was in possession of his soul. And ever since Irenicus had been defeated and his soul restored, the voice of the Slayer had been lessened, almost banished. But lately-
"If you have anything important to say, then I would have you speak now." Greywulf growled, pushing away all the confusion and uncertainty he felt away. "I'll ask you once more- what happened to us?"
Silence for a time, and Greywulf began to think that Sarevok had no intention of helping him, only to try and get into his head time and time again; he was nearly ready to stand and turn his back on the man for good, damning him to whatever fate he wanted, so long as it was far away from him and the rest of the party- "The first thing you must understand, brother, is the nature of the taint. Bhaal did not *intend* for one of his children to become the new Lord of Murder. They were intended to resurrect him through ancient rituals and practices- I confess my knowledge of his resurrection is limited, as it was never my intention. My goal was to steal the power, much as it has been for every other Bhaalspawn that seeks to depart this mortal coil."
Greywulf glared as he listened, Sarevok continuing with a grunt as he shifted the dragon scale armor he was wearing. "When a Bhaalspawn dies, their portion of the taint leaves this realm and is collected within the Throne of Bhaal... which as you are no doubt aware, is not simply an idea, or a concept. The Throne of Bhaal is a place, a plane where Bhaal ruled supreme and lorded over the murderers, the killers, those who fed his worship and divinity. The essence of Bhaal was meant to collect within the Throne, and when it had all been restored, when every Bhaalspawn had given up their portion to the throne of their dead father, the resurrection, however it was to have been performed, would commence."
"But when Gromnir died, the taint didn't go to the Throne..." Greywulf murmured, his ire beginning to cool as he studied the facts and listened to this new information.
"Precisely." Sarevok smiled thinly. "And why do you think that is?"
He looked up to meet his brother's glowing yellow eyes, and could not provide an answer. The Deathbringer let the silence hang in the air for almost a minute, then spoke, cutting through the question though strangely enough, without the inflexible smugness and superiority that Greywulf had grown accustomed to hearing from his sibling.
"Here is where my absolute knowledge ends and I am forced to take something of an... educated guess. There are two possibilities that I have seen- one is simple, and as such might be the easiest possibility to swallow."
"Being?"
"That access to the Throne has been cut off." Sarevok replied calmly. "If the taint were unable to return to the Throne for some reason... whatever that may be, it would naturally seek the closest vessel to dwell within. You and Imoen, the two Bhaalspawn in the room."
"And the other possibility?"
Sarevok chuckled, pushing back from the table and walking past Greywulf, towards the exit. "You remember my plans to become the Lord of Murder. To murder enough, to spill through blood through the war that I would be considered the most worthy of the godspawn- those I had not killed yet- of inheriting the essence of Bhaal. That by becoming the embodiment of Murder, the taint would naturally flow to me, as quite literally, Bhaal reborn."
Greywulf felt a chill enter his body as Sarevok paused a moment, tossing one final statement behind him before ascending the stairway back to the rocky platform where the others waited. "If this is the case... then congratulations on taking my place for your own."
Even as he walked alone, leaving the sorcerer alone in the dark, Sarevok could not contain the hope that had been kindled anew within him. Both possibilities were valid, true enough... but there was no way in all the Hells that Greywulf, as he stood now, was the most worthy. He had simply thrown that last parting shot as a way of further unnerving his brother, of continuing his psychological war. In all likelihood, it was due to some force cutting the Throne off from the mortal plane. What could cause that... still unknown to him. But more important was the prospect of the taint seeking a vessel in the absence of the Throne to settle within. For Gromnir's death, the taint had sensed two powerful vessels nearby- Greywulf and Imoen. But if those two hadn't been there? If the only presence of a vessel nearby was that small, insignificant portion that tethered Sarevok to the world?
Sarevok suppressed the urge to laugh aloud. He had a new theory to test. And who knew? Perhaps, if it turned out to be true... his chances of taking the Throne of Bhaal for himself were not as out of reach as he had first thought. And not just the Throne... revenge could be a sweet bonus, should he be given the opportunity. He glanced behind him, Greywulf finally following, the man several paces back on the stairway. His gaze moved to the Sword of Chaos, hanging at his side. Yes... revenge could be sweet indeed.
X X X X X X
The raucous din of the city was nothing if not louder near the city gates, and it was a struggle to even be heard over the crowds of travelers and peddlers making their way in and out of the City of Coin. Animal traders herding their flocks, farmers carting their produce. Blacksmiths hauling supplies and wares, noblemen riding horses and surrounded by entourages wearing expensive clothes and jewelry while pigs and oxen trampled through the mud right beside. The gates of Athkatla were biased to no man, so long as there was gold to be spent and traded within its walls.
Pacing back and forth like nervous fathers awaiting the birth of their first child, town criers made their rounds near the entrance to the city, bumping past fat men hocking their wares and simple peasants trying to make their way in and out. Above their continuous shouts of the local news of the day, spread far and wide regardless of truth or accuracy, three men tried to make their way through the throngs and to simply hear one another amidst the clamor.
"Surely you do not think we are moving too hastily? T'was only a fortnight prior when I received word of my latest posting in the shipyards." Reynald shouted up towards Anomen, trying with a great deal of frustration to avoid getting pushed back by the flood of bodies, like a human tide. "Chief Inspector Brega did not appear too pleased with my sudden resignation from the city guard."
"No, I suppose he did not." Anomen replied with a glance behind him as he nodded with forced courtesy to each citizen he bumped into in turn as he forced a path through the masses, his armor making him even bulkier than his muscular physique would have done. Still, it was best he stay in the lead- while Solaufein's bulk might have done just as well in helping cut a swath through their ranks, there was always the chance his hood might be undone in the commotion and a panic ensue from anyone who spotted his lineage.
The drow, for himself, was sorely tempted to use the stone he kept in his pocket and dimension door past the multitudes and simply wait for his new companions outside the gate, but once again, any sort of sudden abnormality was as likely to cause trouble as not. More than likely he would be labeled by the Cowled Wizards as some kind of magical deviant. That would be an ironic twist of events, he supposed, though there was little danger of him being shipped off to Spellhold, such as it was. The island fortress had been destroyed by the Githyanki along with the rest of Brynnlaw, and in the process many of the most powerful members of the Cowled Wizards had been struck down by the elven sorcerer Irenicus. They had not been seen meddling in the affairs of Athkatla for some time, though there was no chance they had abandoned their position of power within the city for good.
"Do not concern yourself with Brega's dissatisfaction. He has been given my word that the task you set off on is at the height of the concern of the Radiant Heart. What more reason could he need to release you from service without hesitation?" Anomen called out, trying to sound comforting as he muttered another apology to a noblewoman who harrumphed in obvious distaste as Anomen nudged her, before moving off with the rest of her company.
Looking at the still glaring woman Anomen had bumped, Solaufein muttered to Reynald, "No doubt he ruined the dress she had spent some exorbitant amount of coin on to wear once and never again." Even as he spoke, the drow kept one hand at his hood at all times, making certain that it did not become loosened, or the tail of the cloth be stepped on and dragged from round his neck forcibly. "The sooner we have left this city, the better I shall feel. Truly, the streets of Athkatla feel as claustrophobic as my memories of Ust Natha at times."
Reynald did not speak for a moment, and Solaufein automatically knew what the man's next words would be. Or rather, the content of those words. True to his foreknowledge, Reynald spoke, and to his credit it was done with a bit of hesitation and audible respect in his tone. "I have been meaning to inquire of your past, if the mood strikes you to speak thusly. Perhaps not the best of times, I admit, but there is oft no time like the present, yes?"
It was with sincerity that the former knight spoke, and Solaufein could detect no hint of malicious curiosity in the query. Reynald was, quite possibly, the most humble of knights he had met, probably in part due to the indiscretions that had cost him his official title. "It seems fair enough, considering that I know of your past and you know naught of mine, save that I have history with our mutual companion."
Before he could continue, the shouts of the criers nearby finally made their way close enough to be clear to his keen ears- his and Anomen's. A cry erupted from the squire before them, and Anomen's path diverted from a beeline toward the exit to straight towards the little man bellowing his news in the street. The wave of sudden bodies no longer diverted by Anomen's bulk left the two men cursing in frustration, struggling only for a few moments before managing to push themselves up to their companion. "-I hear you correctly, young man? Saradush has fallen?!"
"Aye, that be the long and short of it all!" the gap-toothed teenager nodded with a wink and a nod as he tilted his head upwards so to let his voice carry as he spoke. "The great haven of Tethyr is fallen! Laid to waste by the armies north of Calimshan, the fire giants pouring from the Marching Mountains! All hope of containing the armies is fallen, a slaughter through and through-"
"I can hear you quite well, lad." Anomen said gruffly, taking hold of the boy by his shoulders, motioning him to lower his tone. "The armies of the Radiant Heart were on the way to aid in the siege there- have you any word of their presence or their involvement? Surely they were not also part of the slaughter?"
"Lay off, knighty!" the boy protested, glaring as Anomen finally took his hands off his shoulders, letting him straighten his roughened jacket. "No, they ain't part of the battle. Leastways not from what I heard. Must've run afoul of some o' the other banditry and soldiers on the way there. Lots o' armies popping up here and there nowadays. Bad days to be a crier though! Run my voice near ragged tellin of all the news be happening lately. Even heard tell of the Bhaalspawn in the city- most wiped out in the attack. Maybe even the Scourge of the Sword Coast!"
Anomen paused, that title ringing familiar in his mind. He glanced at the two men standing beside him, looking for any sign of recognition in their faces, and to confirm his fears, he saw Solaufein's normally guarded features take on concern and worry. He grasped the lad again, not caring for his protests or whines. "The Scourge of the Sword Coast! You mean to say that the wards of Gorion were spotted within the walls as well?!"
"Aye, aye! Jus' le go of me, ye oaf!" the lad scowled, nodding. "No idea who lived or died- if'n you want to know so much, why don't ye get yer arse over there and find out, har har!"
Anomen growled in frustration, letting the boy loose and waving for the others to follow- no doubt he meant to speak of the matter once they were clear of the gates and the continuous crowds- they could hear the crier continue his shouts as they left him behind amidst the throngs. They had little opportunity until they had reached the outskirts of the gates, far and away from the outpouring of humanity into the maw of Athkatla. They hiked up hills surrounding the city to the north, where they could overlook the goings-on below them, taking shelter from the afternoon sun beneath a grove of trees. It was Reynald who spoke first, his curiosity getting the better of him. "I had known that you both were acquainted in the past- though it seems there is more to your past association than I had first guessed. You have both taken part in the company of the Bhaalspawn that spared my life when I fought under Anarg's command, have you not?"
"You saw it yourself, so you little need me to confirm it." Anomen sighed, his head drooping as he wiped the sweat from his face, still catching his wind after the exertion of their push out of the city and then the short but tiring hike. "As for Solaufein-"
"I shall explain my past, much as I was prepared to do before the shoutings of the crier took precedence." the drow replied, cutting Anomen off as he turned to Reynald, looking up from beneath his cloak. "I once traveled with the Bhaalspawn, just as Anomen did. It would take far too long to recount all the deeds I was fortunate enough to undertake while in their company, but suffice it to say that I was very much a prisoner in my own city, trapped by the venomous politics and games that choke all that live in the city of Ust Natha. They came, seeking passage to the surface while under the disguise of drow, and I found kindred spirits, despite their masks. They brought me with them to the surface after I had betrayed my kinsmen and helped them escape... it was the best decision of my life, and I regret nothing of it, though life amidst the surface dwellers has become... difficult, at times."
"I can imagine- rather, I cannot, considering how hated the drow are among those above." Reynald nodded, extending a hand to Solaufein in respect. "Well met once more then, upon knowing the trials you have undertaken to come this far."
Solaufein accepted the offer, even as he continued, gesturing at Anomen, "But you still wonder- I can see that much in your eyes. Why between the two of us we have so much curiosity in the location of those we once fought beside? For Anomen, I can only imagine that he would take their aid once more in the venture we embark on right now."
"A fair enough assessment." Anomen nodded, smiling grimly at Reynald. "You have heard what we will face at Watcher's Keep, or at least, what little I know of it. The men and women who were at Saradush, if the crier's tales were true, are the equal of any Knight in the Radiant Heart. More than equal, I dare say, though it pains me. And you, Solaufein? What keeps your heart so close to these?"
The drow did not speak for a time, and it appeared to Reynald that he would not say, but after a time he spoke, his answer one of easy logic and simple affirmation as he thought of the few surfacers he considered friends... as he thought of pinkish red hair, a teasing laugh, and flashing, mischievous eyes. "I am... fond of them."
X X X X X X
In the smoking ruins, the burning remnants of what had once been a shining metropolis of Tethyr, there were screams of pain, shouts of brutality and the acrid smell of blood mingled with burning flesh and smoke to leave a putrid stench hanging over the whole of the city. In Saradush, nobody escaped the hammer of Yaga-Shura and his army. Violence and warfare dominated one and all- and yet, miles away, over hills and forests and plains, there was little sense of the tragedy taking place. Instead, there was a stream running through the wooded clearing, and small creatures scattered this way and that while bear and deer and other animal took their time in the midst of nature's serenity.
Then, as though taking perverse satisfaction in destroying the calm, six pillars of light blossomed into existence, cupping into the ground beneath them and hollowing out a bowl of burned and charred dirt and stone as the blinding light vanished, revealing the Bhaalspawn so recently having left Saradush, escaping the coming fire by a matter of hours. As the discomfort brought on by their arrival lessened, Imoen staggered to one side, supporting herself with a tree as she bent over, coughing once, twice, then looking up with obvious queasiness in her pretty features. "Ugh... not sure I'll ever get used to that kind of thing..."
"No different than a dimension door, really." Greywulf remarked, stepping forward and glancing behind and all around, as though to assure himself they were truly back in the Prime. "Just happy that all six of us are here this time around... we are, aren't we? Good. The question becomes now- where exactly are we?"
Jaheira glanced at the wood, the stream, as though hoping to find some measure of familiarity via nature itself, but she finally admitted defeat, shaking her head. "I am not familiar with this part of Tethyr. You said before we left that you would try to place us on the path out of Saradush, stretching toward the Marching Mountains- if you succeeded, I cannot tell."
"The old fashioned way then. Minsc?"
The ranger nodded and knelt to the ground, peering through the dirt and soil and grass, taking in each measure of nature, hoping to scry some path, some clue within the forest that might direct their road. The rest remained silent while the ranger worked his skillful magic- it was scarce long enough for a quick bite of rations before Minsc raised his head, a look of contented satisfaction across his broad features. "There is a trail leading east, though it is very faint. Minsc does not believe it has been used by travelers or caravans... but there is enough foot trail to warrant a closer look."
Greywulf nodded approvingly, gesturing for the others to join him as Minsc led, or rather, those who had not been privy to his and Sarevok's discussion. The five of them set out upon the trail, the Deathbringer carrying the rear, watching for unseen threats within the intrusive confines of the surrounding forest. There was an seemingly unconscious cluster around Greywulf as they watched for threats, though half of any and all's attention was upon what news their leader had concerning what knowledge he had gained from his time with his brother.
He did not speak immediately, rather content to watch their passage through the forest, eyes flitting back and forth between shadow and tree, constantly on the watch. And really, how could he have been blamed for keeping such a close eye on their safety? How many times had they been taken by surprise despite everything they had learned and seen over the years? Curiosity alone could not compel him to abandon such habits of necessity.
It was only when the tree line began to thin, the trail Minsc had found beginning to spread a bit wider, leading to more open country that Greywulf let his watch falter, finally exhaling as though he had not even known that every breath had been held to capacity before release. Still his friends and companions were clustered around him, waiting impatiently for him to regail them with whatever information Sarevok had seen fit to direct towards him and him alone. The gray robed half-elf spoke with an air of impatience that could have been misconstrued as being at the attention directed his way, "If you're looking for me to tell you that I know everything now, that it all makes so much more sense when thought about from one way or another... you're going to be sorely disappointed."
"Then what did you find out?" Imoen asked, the most curious of any of the listeners, for obvious reasons. He met her questioning gaze, and for a moment felt guilty for even speaking of this to her. She needed to know and would take nothing less than his full disclosure in the matter, but it was a shame that she should even be put into this kind of situation. Imoen was too pure, too bright to be a part of this kind of filth. He felt at times that he was dragging her down with him, that she should leave his side and stay in the realm above that she seemed to inhabit... but there was nothing for it, in the end. She was loyal to a fault, and would never leave his side, no matter how hard he tried to push. Selfish of him to secretly love that quality, but he wasn't above admitting that to himself.
And so he took the time to relate the words Sarevok had told him, sans the taunts and the jibes at him and his family. They listened without reaction, remaining still and unaffected even as he informed them straight facedly that he and Imoen might be considered worthy vessels by the essence of the Lord of Murder from this point on. Even without saying anything, Greywulf could see Imoen's features pale, her pallor diminish as he spoke. He cursed himself once more for stringing her along in his wake, but before he could allow himself any more self-flagellation, Aerie spoke, her elven tones and quiet thoughtfulness serving as a brace to bring them back to earth. "But how? Nothing like this happened when we fought Illasera- she simply vanished. What could have changed between then and our battle with Gromnir?"
"I don't know," Greywulf murmured, his eyes finally turning to them all with a haunted look in his gaze. "I don't know what's happening, I don't know how to stop it, anything..."
It was a rare sight to see him, usually so confident and so full of energy, looking so hopeless, so powerless. As though he was reaching the end of his wit and skill- and it was not enough. Imoen leaned in and wrapped one arm around his shoulder as they walked, the others lending their support silently, through their mere presence, and it was enough. Imoen whispered quietly as the two leaned in to one another, their heads touching gently. "I'm glad yer with me, Greywulf."
One moment of support and peace among so much confusion and fear and that was all that was granted them as Minsc stopped his tracking, looking up with a jerk and sniffing the air with a narrowing of his eyes. "Minsc smells smoke- but Saradush is far west of here. Boo fears that something is not right..."
As the ranger's words took every one of them by surprise, trying to discern in the moment what it all meant, Jaheira looked down connecting the faint trail, too far out of the way for hikers or caravans, but well-used enough to suggest significant travel, and it all suddenly clicked. "What fools we are! Hurry, there may yet be time to save them!"
Jaheira's cryptic shout was enough to spur them onward, but no time or chance was given for the druid's explanation, as she and Minsc took lead, darting through the trail's path, breaking through the ever clearing wood until they saw daylight- and a grisly sight to go with. A caravan of wagons and carts alongside the main road, passing outside the forest they had just broken from, had been brutally set afire, the men and women who had been leading and traveling alongside lying on the ground in pools of blood with arrows sticking from their body. Surrounding piles of fine linens and chests, undoubtedly containing the gold gained on these murdered merchants' travels, were half a dozen men, dressed in dark green and wearing hoods, their weapons sheathed, their bows hung on their backs. Brigands, caught flat-footed for a change.
At the raucous sound of the adventurers bursting through the wood, they all turned to spot the new arrivals, and for a brief second both groups stared one another down, neither speaking or moving in the sudden stillness. Of course it was bandits- that's who was using the trail they had been traveling on. It led out to the main road, perfect for an ambush, leading deep into the wood where any pursuing guards could be easily lost or picked off one at a time. Only a ranger could have followed the trail to completion as they had done- and with a shout of warning, one of the brigands went for his bow.
He never got a chance to pull an arrow from his quiver, as Aerie's powers were only a gesture and an incantation away. A lightning bolt sizzled through the air, the acrid stench of ozone burning in the air as the man's body twitched and spasmed with the striking, and he fell limply to the ground, smoke beginning to curl from his extremities. The other five fared little better- the instantaneous death of one of their comrades did little for their morale or for their ability to recover quickly from being caught so unprepared. Minsc had already thrown himself across the distance between them, the man he'd targeted just managing to get his sword unsheathed before the Rashemani fell upon him, a downswing from the Githyanki Vorpal Sword neatly cutting through the blade with the first strike, leaving his opponent holding a hilt with half a blade before the ranger's second stroke fell. As the man's upper half slid off his lower, Minsc spun with the gesture, neatly decapitating a third.
The others quickly gave Minsc a wider berth, weapons finally at the ready, for all the good it had done them. Imoen's bow had felled a fourth, and Jaheira's dagger spun across the gap, planting itself in a fifth's chest. He gasped with bugged eyes at the hilt protruding from his breast, before Jaheira appeared at his side, yanking it out as she combined it with an upswing from her spear shaft, sending the dying man to his back. The only one left had no choice- he had seen the deaths of five men he had worked with in less than ten seconds, and he made the only choice that represented a manner of sanity. He threw down his sword, falling before them, clamoring backwards as Greywulf strode towards him, his lips drawn in a thin, cold line.
"Please, no!! I don' want to die! I give up, I swear!" he pleaded, his features frozen with fear. "I won' work for Yaga-Shura no more, I swear! I won tell him yer out here!"
"Yaga-Shura?" Greywulf's eyes widened and a growl began echoing in his throat as his quarterstaff swung out to pin the man's throat to the ground. "You know who we are? That Yaga-Shura is looking for us?!"
"Of-of course!" he whimpered, eyes unable to leave the tip of the staff pressing against him, the long strands of his black hair growing brown as he still tried to slide backwards in the dust and dirt. "There's... t-there's a price on yer head! Yaga-Shura wants you and yer fellows dead..."
"And this caravan? These innocents? Did Yaga-Shura want them dead too?" Greywulf spat, pressing harder as he gestured back at the desecrated corpses behind him.
"Naw, no!! We was just... jus'-" he never got to finish. Greywulf pressed harder, cutting off any more words. Aerie frowned, biting her lip as she tried not to say anything, trying to trust in the benevolent, kind man she knew... as the sounds of the brigand choking echoed around her, she protested quietly, just quietly enough to be heard, "Greywulf... he's no threat. He surrendered..."
He looked down at the terrified bandit, so cowardly when faced with his own death. He looked back at the dead traders, their bodies thrown carelessly among the wood to be burned. He glanced behind him at Aerie's face, afraid at what she was seeing. He looked at Sarevok, nodding in approval. Greywulf looked down at the man, his sword lying a few feet away- and in a moment of horrific clarity, Greywulf saw his own reflection in the gleaming of the blade, and it was not a dirty, sweat stained half-elf who looked back. It was a demonic visage, a smile of terrible and unending needle-like teeth. It was the Slayer- and in that moment he knew just how much the infusion of Gromnir's taint had affected him.
He felt Jaheira's hand on his arm, saw the concern in her eyes, and with more effort than he would have like to admit, pulled back his staff. Silently, wordlessly, he walked past, wrapping himself in the cloak he wore, the others reluctantly following, leaving a weeping man on the ground behind them. Sarevok followed behind, watching Greywulf with disgust and dismay. He slowed his gait until the others were far enough ahead; they would not look back to make sure he was following at the rear, not when their beloved friend and leader was so embattled within himself. He paused beside the quivering brigand and knelt down, reaching for the newly terrified man's throat. After a brief moment, Sarevok was back on the trail with his companions.
X X X X X X
The sound of a wolf howling against the moonlit night sky was enough to send a chill down the listeners spines, if only due to the aura of evil and foreboding that surrounded them as the ground below their feet began to diverge from the outer trail that led through this section of earth into packed dirt and matted grass, signs of a singular trail leading to something else entirely. Greywulf pushed aside a bramble that was in his way, nudging it with his staff. They had found more burned wagons and remnants of another caravan put to the torch, no doubt by the same brigands they had dispatched. Still, this one had a singular man left alive, a trader that had escaped execution by feigning death while his fellows were slain all around him. He told them of one of their destinations- an ancient temple of Bhaal, crumbling amidst the Forest of Mir. It was said to be a dark and deserted place, one in which demons and evils spread their malice without fear of reprisal or retribution. An unsafe place, to say the least, but in the dead of night, their approach seemed ill-timed and ill-favored.
Perhaps in another time or in another sense, Greywulf might've minimized their risk and held them back until the break of day, but he was a man out for vengeance or blood... or perhaps both. The cold fire in his gaze was seen by several men, usually before he put them to the sword or immolated them with sorcery. It was a startling change when compared to the usual twinkle of humor or cheery glance in his smooth features. No- he was a changing man, and it was not for the better, most of his companions would say. What was there, though, to say indeed? That he was venturing down a dark path, one in which he might not be equipped to return from? He knew that well enough, and given half a choice would undoubtedly return everything to its prior state, the fates of the Bhaalspawn be damned. But it was not for him to decide, nor for his companions. As before, their presence and a few words of encouragement would have to be enough.
The forest of Mir, pressing in from all sides as they began the long path leading up to the broken-down gates outside the walled in Temple ruins. Despite avoiding any of the legendary shades or demonic forest present within the forest, it was still a most unpleasant journey. It was covered in shadow and brush, vines and thorns sprouting from everywhere and nowhere at once. Even with the almost nonexistent lighting, their path was clear before them. Greywulf grunted, pushing past another cluster of vines, his staff setting down on the ground with a clack rather than a thud. He allowed himself a tight smile of relief as his boot hit brick rather than earth, a sure sign they were drawing close to the first of their destinations. The Temple was the only structure in this desolate and dark forest, and judging from the opening path they were coming upon, they had found it. A long stretch of brick, half-buried in the earth beneath them led to a fog covered structure nearly thirty yards in the distance. The inside could not be seen clearly, as remnants of crumbling walls still encircled the outer perimeter, covered in moss and vines. Gargoyles of stone and obsidian design, twisted and warped by time or design, none were certain, still perched on the standing pieces of wall, glaring down at the approaching group with their unholy glares. The gate that had been connected to the two pillars marking the main entrance was torn down and lay on the ground, though the symbol engraved on each pillar was still discernable; a skull surrounded by teardrops of blood- the symbol of Bhaal.
"I feel a great evil within this place, Greywulf." Aerie whispered as they crept closer. "This place is twisted... everything, so dark."
"This was a Temple of Bhaal once." Sarevok's voice cut roughly through the thick night air in reply to Aerie's comment. "Many sacrifices and rituals were performed here by the acolytes and priests of Bhaal… the aura of darkness that is present will not begin to dissipate for many more years."
Still, nothing challenged them as they made their way up the path, finally reaching the gate opening itself. Minsc drew his sword, trying to see past the fog that obscured any possible sight inside the Temple from without. Suddenly, a sound began issuing faintly from within, echoing to their ears as it grew louder. It was heavy and rhythmic, and it was soon clearly footsteps, the sound of one striding out from the temple court, emerging from the mists before them, hooded and cloaked in gray and green robes. His identity was not discernable with the hood down as the man stopped before them, blocking further entrance into the Temple. Greywulf frowned as he looked over the man, his garb familiar, despite the identity of the man unknown… then he raised his hands and pulled his cloak down. The mustached and bearded face, the strong brow and wise features, he looked just as he had seen him before. Of course, the last time he had seen him outside of a dream or vision had been in a clearing near Candlekeep, dead at the hands of Sarevok.
"Halt. Go no further. I wish to speak with you, my old ward."
The sight of his old mentor, his *father,* for all intents and purposes was as shocking to him as it must have been to Imoen- but he was too frustrated, too clouded, and just too damned pissed to care. "Out of my way, spectre. You're not Gorion. You can't be."
"And why not?" the figure asked grimly. "Have others from your past not been raised up once again, returning to your life in a manner so similar to this? Or do you simply refuse to accept my reality because you know how much you have shamed me! You have forgotten all that I had taught you, all that I brought you up to be!"
"That's a lie!" Imoen shouted, anger blazing at the memories of their father being twisted so cruelly. "Gorion wouldn't say that- yer nothing but a fake! A liar-"
"Or is it you who lie to yourself!" Gorion declared. "I tried to save you from your destinies. I tried to turn the two of you into a force for good. And what have you done? Carved a path of blood and murder wherever you go! You are a disappointment. You were supposed to be so much more- you were supposed to be something greater, and yet in the end you murdered even I!"
He raised a finger, and flames erupted around Imoen and Greywulf, Jaheira almost leaping forward in concern for their safety, but a bubble of magic grew from Greywulf's incantations, surround him and Imoen, pushing the fire away into nothingness. The sorcerer half-elf spat on the ground, shaking his head with disgust. "Parlor tricks. You're nothing like Gorion."
"You would mock me? I saved you, Greywulf!" Gorion declared angrily, his voice growing deeper and darker as he spoke. "I hid you from those who would hunt you. I taught you and enabled you to become what you are. I *died* for you. And you have failed me and everything I hoped you would be. That is why I am murdered by you. You think this animal, Sarevok, is responsible for my death? I expect no better from him. He is a slave to ambition, and yet you resurrect him and hail him as comrade."
"Watch your tone, old man." Sarevok growled, drawing the Sword of Chaos to bear. "I cut you down once… I bear no remorse and will not hesitate to do so again."
"Enough!" Greywulf boomed, pointing his staff at the specter. "You're better than most, I'll give you that much. You know just how to get inside my head, just which buttons to push and what strings to pull when it comes to Imoen and me. But I've been facing fakes like you for more than five years. I've heard them all, seen them all, and let me tell you- I'm not impressed."
A boom of magic erupted from his hand, sending Gorion flying into a crumbling wall, sinking to the ground before looking up with feral rage. "And what of your companions? Surely they know the pain and loss that you bring to them. How many more must come to grief before you see I am correct? How many must die?"
Gorion's eyes glowed red and Greywulf frowned as he realized that the old wizard's gaze was not him, but... Jaheira? He swung around, shouting a warning, but it was too late. Her features were stricken, and she could see and hear nothing aside from the visions that Gorion was plaguing her with.
"J-jaheira? Is…is that you?"
Jaheira's eyes widened, her face froze in a combination of fear and disbelief, facing the figure of her dead husband. "Khalid? No…this cannot be…"
"Why did you d-d-do it, my love? Why did you k-kill me? Why?" he stuttered sorrowfully, gazing at her.
"Khalid would not say such a thing! I did not kill him, I did not!!" Jaheira shouted in alarm, backpedaling in horror.
"You…you insisted so on f-f-following G-Gorion's ward…to h-help him. Did…d-d-did you love him even then, Jaheira? D-d-did you leave me for him?" his accusing tone sent to Jaheira to the ground, on her knees as she buckled under the accusations.
"No! No, my Khalid…do not think that! I loved you, but you were gone! Gone!"
"I…I am n-n-not even c-c-cold in the ground! And you are w-with him! You n-n-never loved me, Jaheira! You never loved me and you wanted me to die!!" he shouted, pointing the finger at Jaheira as she dropped her spear, covering her ears in anguish, tears beginning to stream from her face.
"No! This is not real! Khalid would know…he would know what I felt! (sob!) What I always felt! Greywulf, make this stop!"
Greywulf cursed with unbridled rage as the magical protection surrounding him and Imoen vanished, the two Bhaalspawn leaping forward to strike the rapidly darkening wraith that was taking Gorion's place. Even as he tried to cut the distance between them, he could hear Aerie's screams behind him, her eyes red and flashing as she clutched at visions in her mind.
"Aerie? Oh, my Aerie...is it really you?"
Aerie covered her mouth, unable to believe her eyes. "M-mother?! Oh, mother!! What...how can it be you? Where are your wings?!"
"Oh, my dear Aerie. Did you think I would not search for you, search for my own child?" the elven woman cried out, reaching out to Aerie, the gulf between them like an eternity of darkness.
"You...? I didn't know, Mama, I...."
"Of course I did, my poor child. I searched over the land for many, many months. In vain. In the end, human wizards took my wings and I was murdered." she said, a tinge of venom entering her soft tones.
"No! Mama, don't say that! That didn't happen!! Wizards couldn't have murdered you, n-no!!" Aerie stuttered in denial.
"They took my wings for their spells, but they did not murder me. You did, child. Your foolishness in saving the human was the knife to my heart. You murdered your mother."
"No! No, please, no!"
The Master Wraith hissed at the approach of the remaining members of the party, led by Greywulf and Imoen, death in their eyes. He reached out with a hiss, clenching an ethereal fist, and Minsc's charge slowed, his eyes dimming a dark crimson. As his cries of fear and regret echoed all around, he unleashed the full extent of his powers upon Greywulf and Imoen. The only one left was Sarevok, at the rear but approaching swiftly- he would be next.
Imoen's breath caught in her throat as she began to falter, shaking her head as the world blurred. "No! Greywulf, it's trying to... trying to do the same to us-"
"It won't." he said grimly, closing his eyes as the world around him faded. Deep down he felt the beckoning of the beast within, felt the power of Bhaal waiting to banish the darkness and the mental enslavement that drove past logic and took hold of their minds, despite everything they knew to be true. It might be their only shot- but the promise he'd made to Jaheira?
Before he could make a choice, he could feel the power of the Master Wraith fade, and when he dared open his eyes once more, he saw Sarevok beside the undead specter, switching forms like a doppelganger between Gorion, Khalid, Dynaheir... Tamoko? It finally returned to its true form, screaming noiselessly as ectoplasm spilled from the mammoth blade jammed into its form, and with a final grunt, Sarevok yanked the blade upwards through its head.
He snarled as smoke erupted from the ethereal corpse, fading in the night air- Greywulf turned back to the others, the light in their eyes vanishing as they returned to reality. In their faces he saw fear, shame, and anger. But what he saw most was how close they had come to breaking. All of them. They followed his cue, and until he got himself under control, there would be no safety. No rest for any of them. He grit his teeth, clenched his fist and closed his eyes, concentrating as hard as he dared- and once more they vanished from sight, disappearing to the Pocket Plane.