If there was one thing that reporters and criers and couriers all asked her when given the chance to talk with Imoen the archmage, master of magic herself, it was, "How do you do it? How can you be so amazing at everything you do, including both sorcery and stealth? Surely you must be the greatest in either realm that had ever existed, yes?"

Okay, perhaps she had never been asked that question. And perhaps she had never been approached by scribes or their ilk to record the tales of her exploits, but she should have been, at least in her opinion. And maybe she wasn't really the best mage or thief out there- Greywulf himself would give her a run for that first title, not counting those other famous guys like Khelben Blackstaff and Elminster- bunch of old fuddy-duddies that they were. But she was still pretty darn good, if she did say so herself. And if someone ever did ask how she was able to be quite so amazing at sneaking around and avoiding traps and the like, she'd tell them one simple thing... "Watch the ceiling."

Imoen resisted the urge to snort as she carefully used her clawed gauntlets to dig into the rocky ceiling, biting her lip as a trickle of pebbles and rock fell to the ground, behind a pair of fire giants heading down the hall she was traversing, hoping that neither would hear the sedimentary rain... nothing. She breathed a sigh of relief and continued her upside-down crawl, using her rather considerable leg strength to hold herself to pieces of jagged rock protruding from the ceiling while her hands kept firm holds in case she slipped. And of course, the whole time she was up here, she got to see the wonderful traps and security measures that this Temple had in store for anyone who was, say, not as awesome as her.

Not that there weren't plenty of traps based on the floor of most ancient temples and the like... there were. The ever-reliable blow darts crisscrossing a narrow hall, or maybe the good old fashioned collapsing floor into a pit of spiky doom. Both were classics... and both were absolutely predictable, detectable, and avoidable. The ceiling though... that's where the nasty stuff was located. She grunted a bit as she considered how to move onto the next bit of rock, crossing over another set of stairs- and she smiled as she saw the nearly invisible wires running along the rocky ceiling to the mechanism concealed within a niche she was climbing over right now. Two giant scythes that would slice whoever triggered the trap below neatly in two. That was trap number... six? Seven? She was beginning to lose count- this climbing exercise wasn't exactly a walk in the park, after all.

First had been some fairly standard collapsing sections- step on the wrong tile below and about 200 pounds of rock would come falling down on your head. Survivable with enough acrobatic skill, but loud enough to bring the guardsmen running and a major headache all around. She rolled her eyes at her own pun and kept moving, considering the other snares she'd seen atop the ceiling. The mounted crossbows had been an interesting touch- usually they were on ground level- as were the chittering shadow creatures caged within a thin veil of magic that would undoubtedly break if someone below took a wrong step. Her favorite though, had definitely been the giant round boulder ready to lead down the stairway and crush anything in its path.

But that had been at least a few dozen hallways back, and a couple hundred stairs. In the end, as abnormal and unfeasible as her plan might have sounded, it was the only smart option. Hanging upside down, crawling along the top of the ceiling, she'd spotted at least two or three spell purge traps on the floor that would have given her away had she been using an invisibility spell to try and mask her movements from the fire giants patrolling the Temple, several guards still awaiting the results of the war that Sarevok and Minsc were raging outside. She spared a brief moment to worry for Minsc's safety, then pushed the thought aside and kept moving. The strength Greywulf had gifted her with via magic would not last forever, and quite frankly, she didn't really know where this heart was. She supposed it would be displayed somewhere prominent rather than kept under lock and key in some hidden niche- if only because if Yaga-Shura was the type of giant who would flaunt his invincibility by going into battle without armor, he probably was also the type to keep it somewhere as a display of how he had cheated death itself.

And then, as she glanced down once again, Imoen let herself grin. The enormous stairway that had erupted upwards into the mountain from the entrance culminated in one giant archway, flattening below to brick laid floor and flanked by fire giants garbed in heavy armor and wielding weapons adorned in skulls and claws at the hilt and handles. Honor guards if she was a master thief- and she was- which meant she was getting close. The archway was fifty feet tall, well high enough for her to slip underneath without alerting the guards to her presence, assuming they didn't look up, of course. Imoen allowed herself to relax for a moment, figuratively at least, and examine the archway. There was a carved likeness of Yaga-Shura's face at the peak of it, a giant bearded face with a horned helmet punching out a foot from the otherwise smooth surface of the stone; that would work perfect for a handhold of sorts. Still, dropping down to hang from that would be risky- it would have to be a momentary flash to make certain that nobody in the next room spotted her sudden appearance.

That left only one option, of course. Imoen inhaled sharply, closing her eyes as she waited for her heart to calm slightly, her breathing to quiet- and she went into action. Digging her gauntlets into the ceiling above, she released the hold she'd been maintaining between her legs and let her momentum carry forward, swinging towards the archway- she released with her gauntlets and grasped onto the cut-stone as a handhold, her body clenched tightly around that single point in the archway. That was the easy part... the honor guards below hadn't looked up, hadn't sounded the alarm. This next part would be much trickier. First things first- a touch of reconnaissance. Imoen grunted quietly as she began using her feet to brace against the stone, pulling herself upwards until she was perching precariously atop the carving itself, her leather-soled boots hell when marching across rocky ground, but giving her the tactile sense necessary for such infiltration attempts. Finally, the hard part. Imoen's breath caught as she prepared to make her move- she was very well aware that if this little maneuver failed, if she slipped or if the carving weren't strong enough, she would not only be discovered but would probably fall fifty feet head-first onto the stone below, splattering her brain all over the ground.

Imoen silently leapt, twisting in midair to go downwards head first. As she began the stomach-wrenching drop, she snapped her legs together, folding at the knees as tightly as she could muster the moment she felt contact. And in less than a second, Imoen found herself breathlessly hanging upside down from the peak of the archway, her legs entwined with the horns of the carved stone helmet. She had not tested her acrobatics and physical resolve in this manner for some time- sweat was pouring from her face and her legs were already beginning to burn from the exertion. But her current position let her look just underneath the arch and sight in on what was in this next room- and what she saw made it all worthwhile. It was, quite literally, Yaga-Shura's Throne Room. There stood an enormous throne in the center, flanked by braziers on both sides. Ragged banners and bloodied weaponry lined the rock walls, and the waves of heat could be seen rising from the floor itself. Sitting before the throne was a circular crack in the rock floor, with lava bubbling through and splattering sizzling bits of magma around the floor encircling it. Imoen felt her eyes sting as sweat ran into them, but she forced the annoyance away as she tried to figure out where her objective might be kept- of course. She pushed away the dizziness brought on from the extreme heat and the blood rushing to her head, and focused upon the magma- and with a bit of squinting, she could see it.

Glowing gently, beating strongly with each passing second, a heart nearly the size of her entire pack floated a few feet above the magma, bathed in constant licks of flame that rose from the molten rock. No guards inside the Throne Room- either this fire giant was more egotistical than she had thought, or he was just stupid. Imoen grinned, knowing that all that stood between her and success was a few feet- and that was precisely when everything went terribly, horribly wrong. The stone carving she'd been hanging from separated with a loud crack, splitting the horns from the base of the carved helmet; Imoen's body jolted with the sudden motion, the girl suddenly dropped into free fall once again. Imoen could not keep herself from crying out with the sudden fall, but an escape came from the unlikeliest of places- the guardsmen below.

They were surprisingly quick and well trained- before she'd had time to fall completely the guards had whirled toward the origin of the sound, swinging their axes to guard position- and putting the shafts of their weapons within reach of the hurtling thief. Imoen reached out with one hand, desperately seeking purchase- the shaft was too far away, and her hand slid off as she rotated around it, her momentum carrying her in an arc that sent her flying into the room feet first. Still, she had slowed her fall enough to keep it from being lethal, and her new orientation had kept it from being her skull that was cracked upon impact, but the sudden snap of her leg giving way as she hit forced a pained scream from her mouth as she tumbled across the floor, coming to a stop beside the pit of magma, the heat turning her skin red as she lay beside it, blurred vision trying to focus on the heart floating only a few paces away.

Imoen reflected with ill humor the irony of it all ending this way; the huge footfalls of the giants shook the ground as they crossed the meager distance between them... to falter like this, so close to her target, it felt wrong. "How'd this little piece of spit make it so far in?!" one of the giants boomed with rage, kicking her over roughly, Imoen moaning in pain at the rough treatment, her only consolation that the force of the blow had moved her a touch further away from the magma pit.

"Bah! It matters little- she's meat now!" the other sneered, his eyes flashing with hatred as he leaned over, grabbing Imoen with one hand, beginning to pick her up- a bolt of lightning flashed over their heads, striking the archway and sending bits and pieces crumbling to the ground. Once again, their reaction time was amazing- Imoen hit the ground again, this time from a much lower distance, but coughing with the impact as the two guards spun to see what had struck out at them. Imoen squinted to see another bolt of lightning strike the wall beside them, bouncing back and forth for a moment before dissipating- a fireball followed, the waves of heat washing over the guardsmen as they cautiously moved up, leaving the incapacitated girl alone as they faced this new threat.

It didn't take long for her to figure out what was happening, the fireball made it fairly obvious. It wasn't designed to harm the fire giants, whose resistance to flame made it little more than a joke. Greywulf had heard her scream and knew she was in trouble, and was doing the only thing he could muster- trying to distract them and give her some kind of chance to save herself. Except that it couldn't last long- he would never be able to climb the massive stairs to get to where they were, and every set of guards along the stairs would be converging on his position in moments- he was simply flinging spells up the stairway, trusting that the sight would be enough to draw the attention of whatever had found her.

So far it had worked- Imoen reached into her pack, drawing a Potion of Heal from within and downing it as quickly as she dared- the bluish liquid felt cold and tasted bitter in her throat, but she could feel the bones in her leg beginning to knit themselves together, the torn muscle healing. It wasn't perfect, but it was the only chance she'd get. One more potion- a greenish brew to shield her from the elements. Her hands went numb as the effects took hold, and she barely felt a thing as she pushed herself to her feet, limping with all her might towards the magma pit. Another shout from behind her- maybe the guards had seen her renewed efforts, or maybe Greywulf had engaged one of the guards. It didn't really matter at the moment. All that mattered was getting the heart before her, and as she thrust her hands into the flame, taking hold of the beating organ, she yanked it from the flame and immediately lost her footing as the entire Throne Room began shaking, the magma pit bubbling hotter and hotter, flames shooting from the floor and striking the ceiling itself. If that hadn't gotten the attention of the Honor Guard, nothing would. Just as she got to her feet again, preparing to turn and somehow avoid the guards, drop down a hundred stairs as tall as her and avoid the numerous traps she'd seen on the way up all while limping, a roar emerged from the flames, and out stalked a humanoid wreathed in blue and orange flame, eyes a dark red in the middle of the mass. It held out a fist, clenched in rage. "Who steals from Imix, Prince of Fire?!"

Imoen heard the gasps of surprise from the Honor Guard behind her, the giants even dwarfed in size by the avatar of the Evil Elemental Prince of Fire. Somehow Yaga-Shura had convinced it, or at least some portion of its essence, to safeguard his heart. And without waiting another moment, Imoen spun on her heel and bolted as fast as she could muster, wanting nothing more than to get the hell out and fearing that, at the last, she might have bitten off slightly more than she could chew with this particular burglary.

X X X X X X

The merry laughter between the two old friends lilted gently through the stone halls of the Keep, the only listeners being the two guardsmen keeping watch over the quarters given to guests of the De'Arnise Keep. Inside, Nalia sat across from Anomen in one of the enormous red plush chairs that every guest room was fitted with- no fewer than five along with a table of dining size in such case that her guests needed to entertain guests of their own. The splendor of the De'Arnise Halls had increased since Anomen's first visit to the Keep, that much was clear to the squire as he finished his tale of his trip into the Planar Sphere in the company of Imoen and Greywulf's party. " 'Thank you ever so much for clearing the path for me!' " Anomen boomed in as malevolent a voice as he could muster, raising his hands and waggling his fingers as though preparing to cast some sort of wicked spellcraft. "T'was all I could do not to laugh at the Cowled fiend and his apprentice right then, m'lady! Surely they saw no ill choice in attacking those who had found the strength to push farther into the magical sphere than they could have ever done."

Nalia covered her mouth as her body shook with the chortles and tales shared between them. She shook her head at the last as they died away, a smile firmly placed upon her lips. "Such fools- I am not surprised they thought little of their own safety. The Cowled Wizards are trained to believe in their own infallibility- surely nobody that was not part of their order had a chance to stand up to them! It sounds as though you have done very well for yourself in the time since we last traveled together. My only regret is that we had to parts ways under such... unfortunate circumstances."

"I thank you for your thoughts, and share your sentiments, truly." Anomen smiled, stroking his beard as he considered their past. After he and the Bhaalspawn had parted company, he had taken some time doing jobs as a full-fledged knight, hoping to raise his stature and visibility in the eyes of the Order while there were no tasks given to him by the Prelate, hopefully to rectify that very situation. Nalia had still been rebuilding and needed brave men and women to aid her lands- it had been a perfect match for the both of them, and their similar noble roots had lent them a stronger bond than others might have forged. Their friendship had been real and easy, until he had received word while under her employ that his father had been slain by Saerk.

"I was pleased to hear that my messengers reached Greywulf's company before you did something... well, before you did something you and I would both have been saddened by." Nalia remarked gently, Anomen not quite meeting her eyes as they spoke, their tones sobering as the thoughts of what he had nearly done came to mind. "I suppose it should make me happy to learn that your only penalty lay in a small drop in title, but I cannot help but feel as though you were cheated by the Order? How were you supposed to have reacted to the news of your father's murderer?"

"I am glad to know you have my back in these matters, but I fear that it is simply the standards to which I have devoted myself to, and must be held accountable for." Anomen inhaled sharply, his tone taking on a determination and grit seen within him far more recently than in past days. "But enough of such melancholy. Tell me more of what you've done with your own time since we parted ways, m'lady. Surely time did not simply halt when I left your employ? If my memory does not fail me, when last I was here you were embroiled in some politicking with the nobles of Athkatla- who was it now, a man by the name of Pimlico, was it?"

"That was the name, yes, though I fear my work with him has led to something of a grisly end." Nalia shook her head in disappointment. "He was something of a collector of books, both rare and powerful, and he had recently been after a certain tome buried in the Athkatla cemetery. He had hired a band of mercenaries led by a dwarf to reach the tome for him, but somewhere along the way he was killed. Whether it was through infighting or simple bad luck... no, I know it was not simple infighting, but I shall not burden you with my theories and paranoia about Athkatla's dealings. They are a dark enough burden on my soul, and I should not wish to push it to you as well."

"Ah, but what good should a friend be if not to share the load?" Anomen asked with a shrug. "What bothers you so?"

Nalia paused a moment, as if to consider whether she really wished to continue or not, then sighed and nodded. "Being of noble birth and coming to terms with my role as a leader of men... it makes one's priorities shift. You know this better than most. It brings clarity- even if that clarity is not something pretty. I found myself in the unenviable situation of discovering truths about the Athkatla power structure not long ago, and it has made my work take on a priority higher than I ever could have imagined."

"And what work is that?" Anomen frowned, leaning forward, intrigued by her cryptic manner. "You have done an admirable job of taming this place after all the trouble that has befallen it, Firkraag and the Roenalls to name the greatest of which."

"Power." Nalia stated abruptly, her eyes flashing and narrow as her tone grew dark. "I have pushed myself and my resources to accumulate the power necessary to defend this place from another one such as Firkraag, and I have done so, but it has not been enough. Not nearly enough, now that I know the truth. Were I simply concerned with defending myself and my lands, then I could have settled some time ago with my skills as a mage and the enlarged army I have built. But there is a dark presence in the city that has corrupted every level of its structure, and it knows that I have uncovered its secrets. Tell me, have you ever heard of The Twisted Rune?"

"No... the name does not seem familiar." Anomen mused after thinking for a time. "Should I have?"

"It is an organization of powerful beings that has made Athkatla its stronghold. Their business is power- political, magical, strength of arms, anything and everything they can muster to bolster themselves. It is my belief that at least one of the members of the Council of Six is also a member of the Twisted Rune. Every member is a master of combat and power in their own right- and since the collapse of the Cowled Wizards, their power has expanded tenfold."

"What do you mean?" Anomen shook his head, trying but failing to understand. "The Council of Six rule over them, or at least, they are said to command the wizards in public."

"Mere posturing." Nalia brooded, the subject matter weighing heavily upon her. "Do you not see, Sir Anomen? The balance of power in Amn has always been one too precarious to maintain itself for long. The Cowled Wizards were always their own separate power base, as were the Shadow Thieves, and the Council of Six, even your own Order of the Radiant Heart. Arguably the most powerful four groups of the city and none of them truly were willing to answer to anyone but themselves. And behind the scenes, the Twisted Rune, gathering power and magic to themselves with each downfall and step back that the rest of the city takes. The Cowled ones are barely a force to be reckoned with any longer, and the Shadow Thieves have never fully recovered from the guild war. The power vacuum had to go somewhere, and all my research points to them."

"Just what research was this?" Anomen frowned again. "Something tells me you did not come by this information simply by accident. The people you are talking about are not the type to spend their time amidst bars, drinking their secrets into the free air."

"Nor am I the type to go and listen for those secrets to be released a glass at a time." Nalia replied with a hint of pride. "As I said, I have been occupied with building my own power in recent months- and what better opportunity to do so when the Cowled Wizards were overthrown by Jon Irenicus? I sent my agents, and in the end, I traveled myself under shadow of darkness to recover their artifacts and scrolls, the secrets they kept locked away in their outposts and vaults, no longer guarded as fiercely with their numbers so diminished. I had two vaults located, but by the time I had arrived, the wizards tasked with guarding them had been slain, and their secrets plundered."

"The Twisted Rune... they acted before you could do so and stole the secrets for themselves. And you were curious as to who had acted your very plans out in front of you, and thus began your investigation." Anomen concluded, before pausing with a frown. "You said they were guarded yet? How had you planned to go about finding your way inside? Surely you would not have been so callous as to murder them for the knowledge buried within?"

Nalia stared at Anomen for a moment, then laughed again, shaking her head. "Come now, Sir Delryn, surely you know me better than that? Not that I would have considered it murder- the Cowled ones were criminals and tyrants of the highest order to begin with- cleansing their scum from Athkatla was the only things positive accomplished by that madman Irenicus' killing spree. But I would have found a different solution, 'tis true. It matters little now, since there was nothing to be had; only the slightest scraps of evidence for me to follow. It led me to where I stand now, knowing too much to be left unscathed by this organization."

"It would seem you are in something of a difficult situation." Anomen offered, unsure of how to proceed. "If these men and women have as much power as you claim, it would be difficult to find a place to bring this information to that would not invite their attention."

"Indeed- it is why I have kept this to myself for as long as I have." Nalia sighed, folding her hands over her robes as she shook her head. "It is also why I cannot hope to accompany you and your allies on this quest of yours, no matter how much I might wish to aid you. I cannot simply leave my lands in the hands of those inferior to me in power- only I have the slightest chance of defending this place from her enemies."

"I- what?" Anomen frowned, blinking. "I admit that I had considered offering you a place among us as we traveled, but I would not dare to have asked. Did Solaufein and Reynald put the question to you?"

"You mean they had not consulted you before inviting me on this 'adventure'?" Nalia asked in surprise before throwing her head back and laughing lightly again, smiling with a shake of the head as it died away. "I had simply assumed that it was the primary reason for coming to my lands."

"No, I believe that my imminent death was more the cause." Anomen shook his head, smiling wryly. "I must admit, I find myself slightly embarrassed. I shall have to speak with Solaufein and Reynald about their manner in my absence. One does not simply ask the Lady of an Estate to abandon her charges on some quest that she has no personal stake in."

"No, but believe me when I say I was most flattered by the invitation." Nalia's lips quirked at the edges. "Reynald seemed rather taken with the idea, and I cannot help but agree that you need someone with a magical touch on your journeys. While I have no doubt that you three are most capable of fighting off any physical threat, it would be most unfortunate if an ethereal creature brought you low with nobody of my talents accompanying you."

"Believe me when I say that the thought has crossed my mind, especially in light of my latest injury." Anomen admitted. "Surely the halls of Watcher's Keep will not be filled with simple traps and monsters that any good swordsmen could fight his way through-"

"Watcher's Keep?! That is where you are headed?" Nalia asked abruptly, taken by surprise. "I had not been told exactly where you were traveling..."

"Yes, we go to the Tower of Helm to seal the final level off once again." Anomen informed her solemnly, a hint of pride at the import of the task leaking into his voice, despite knowing better. Still, it really *was* an impressive task, and there was no harm in showing off a little, especially with how impressed Nalia seemed to be by the name-dropping.

"Interesting. I have heard tales of Watcher's Keep, though I know very little fact to differentiate from the fictions surrounding it. I don't suppose you would care to tell me of this place before I retire for the night?" Nalia asked, her composure fully recovered as she sat politely.

While Anomen spoke of the legends surrounding the fortress, the monsters and treasures within, Nalia listened carefully, taking in every piece of information as carefully as she could. And long after she had left the squire's room for the night and returned to her own quarters, she had her servants bring every tome from her library that concerned Helm's Tower to her. And for hours after, long after everyone else in the Keep had gone to bed, Nalia remained at her desk, studying them very, very, carefully, a hint of a smile crossing her features... a plan forming in her mind.

X X X X X X

A cloud of dust billowed up around Minsc's feet as he felt himself being pushed back on the soles of his boots, the sheer crushing momentum and force of the blows that the fire giant he was fighting driving him back with each successive hit. The Vorpal Sword actually had nicks and gouges in its edge- an almost impossibility for Githyanki craftsmanship- from the number of times Minsc had raised it to defend himself from sheer annihilation from the foes that surrounded him. And still he kept fighting. The ranger narrowed his eyes, if only to avoid more sweat running from his glistening forehead into his eyes, and heaved back on the sword with all his not inconsiderable strength- and the only reaction was a slight disengagement from the sword lock, letting Minsc scramble out of the way before his opponent's second swing from the war axe he carried separated his top half from his bottom.

The ranger righted himself in a moment, trying to find a way out, or some kind of tactical advantage, but that was and never had been his strength. He was made for straight up battle, built for oppressive one on one combat. It was where he, and incidentally, his new companion Sarevok, thrived. And for the majority of this battle, thrive he had. Over ten fire giants lay dead so far, three from his hand, four from Sarevok, and another three from the combined spells and summons that Aerie had sent upon them. Jaheira was still uncharacteristically absent, but he had little time to worry about that- he was too busy fighting for his life. For all his strength and power, the ranger had nearly reached the end of his endurance. For every giant they felled, another two or three emerged from the temple.

A second giant roared and charged him, moving to send Minsc flying with a giant sandaled foot, intending to punt him into the boulders behind the ranger. If the blow connected, it would probably crush the armor Minsc wore as well as the man inside, before breaking several dozen bones upon impact with the rocks. There was just enough time to spin out of the way, trying a desperate downward cut with the Vorpal Sword- and his fading strength only carved a notch out of the giant hairy leg rather than severing the foot entirely. Minsc shuffled back, placing both giants he was fighting in front of him, keeping his flank clear- Minsc felt the urge to let his control slip to a berserker rage once more, and once more he pushed it away. He couldn't afford to lose control- not with Aerie still on the battlefield, still being hunted by their opponents.

If she needed him, he had to be able to hear her, had to be able to respond and so he kept fighting, feeling his strength ebbing away, the weight of inevitability crushing down upon them. If Greywulf and Imoen did not return soon, all hope would be lost. They would die, and as Minsc blocked another downward slice, batting the attack to the side and exposing the giant's chest with his hands and weapon down at his side, Minsc considered that a death in a battle as grand as this one... that might not be so bad after all. With a renewed roar of vigor, he leapt as high as he could manage and sliced into the giant's chest, dropping below the torrent of blood coming from the dying humanoid's chest.

Sarevok spared a glance for the ranger's energetic strike, sending another of their massive opponents to the ground. Impressive- he had rather thought Minsc at the end of his rope, so to speak. The battle had taken a turn for the worse, particularly once the giants had realized how much of an effect Aerie's spells were having upon their ranks. Two giants had slipped past Sarevok and Minsc and were currently stalking the hills, chasing Aerie over boulder and mountain in an attempt to strike her down- she was somehow staying ahead of their efforts, mostly through a judicious use of concealment magics, such as Mirror Images and Mislead spells. She'd cropped up here and there at times, lending magical aid whenever possible, but the moment she reappeared, the hunt was on once again. The druid had not appeared as of yet- Sarevok could only assume that she was part of some kind of plan that he was not privy to- and he hated, absolutely hated relying on the plans of others. Far better to be in absolute control of his own destiny, to know the ins and outs of every scheme he was embroiled in- only then could he make certain that there was nothing left to chance, that he would come out on top.

Right. Because that worked out so very well for you last time, didn't it? The mocking tones of Greywulf in his head made Sarevok growl as he swung the Sword of Chaos in a wide arc, causing his opponent to back off several yards, the sheer intensity of the Deathbringer giving the giant pause when considering how to destroy this annoyance. His time spent with Greywulf had been more informative than he had thought, and it had given him valuable insight in how to turn Greywulf into the ruler that he had been- a thought that still gave him a touch of nausea, truth be told- but so much time spent in his brother's company was always going to rub off on him as well. Moments like this, where once he would allow himself to exult in his own infallibility, in the knowledge that everything was going according to plan, or that his foes were nothing more than fodder to be wiped from the earth by his power- every now and then the reproaching or mocking tones of Greywulf would sound in his mind.

Platitudes of morality, speeches that demonstrated nothing more than a weakness to be mocked and laughed at were it delivered by anyone else- but it wasn't just anyone that these warnings and bits of advice came from. It was the only man to have bested him not just once, but twice. That lent his words... weight. At least, Sarevok snorted as he felt his muscles burn, heaving the blade he carried to the side in order to shunt away a slash aimed at obliterating his head, it wasn't Imoen's voice. Bad enough that he had part of her soul in him- the last thing he needed was her cheery, never-ending voice incessantly bothering him.

No, it was little more than an annoyance that he felt. Annoyance that one as weak and misguided as Greywulf could have beaten him, nothing more. There was certainly no way he was actually considering the unending speeches and reprisals that his half-brother kept giving him, and if he was beginning to feel the effects of Greywulf's influence on him, how much more was Greywulf beginning to feel the words that Sarevok continually whispered, surreptitiously made him believe, even as he denied it outwardly? Greywulf would embrace the simple truths that Sarevok understood- absolute power was the only possible goal for a Bhaalspawn. The only reasonable goal for one of their lineage. And with Sarevok's help, they would have it. And- a very small and- if a certain bit of experimentation turned out the way Sarevok prayed it did, the possibility still existed that the Throne of Bhaal was not quite out of Sarevok's reach.

As the warriors fought and defended themselves against the onslaught still pouring from the Temple of Yaga-Shura, the ground beneath their feet shook and sent many of the combatants tumbling to the ground. Those who did not were given no chance to take advantage of their opponents' sudden weakness; behind them, the mountain that the Temple was carved into trembled violently and high above, the top of it exploded with flame and molten rock. Tucked between several rocks on the hillside, far from her pursuers, Aerie flashed into vision, gazing upward in horror. A volcano eruption? Now, of all times? Aerie stood from the spot she'd been using to take a breather and plan her next move and conjured what powers she had left, shielding the two fighters down by the Temple entrance from the sudden rain of magma and fireballs. Several exploded off the magical protections she'd summoned, the blue haze covering them rippling, nearly shattering upon several extremely powerful explosions- but they held fast, including the one over her own head. She was tucked fairly close to the mountain itself, putting her at less danger than the others, but no sense in taking chances.

The thought that this event might help their forces out, the giants without their own forms of magic protection, died quickly as she realized that the giants were big enough and so immune to fire that this would be little more than an inconvenience for them- and her dirtied features only fell further when she saw her two pursuers roar, pointing to her position by the Temple, already moving to track her again. This was bad- she couldn't move while keeping three shields in place, and dropping them for the next few moments could prove fatal for any of them. Still, why had it happened to begin with? Surely their luck couldn't have been that bad?

A sudden wash of darkness passed through her spirit, and Aerie nearly faltered in maintaining her protections before renewing them. She concentrated on the feeling that had just passed- a presence foreign yet familiar... she concentrated, reaching out for the source of the power that had touched her- flames and explosions erupting, a guardian tearing open the fabric of the Plane as it came into existence- Aerie felt a sudden tightness in her throat. Whatever Imoen and Greywulf had unleashed in their quest to get the heart, it was powerful and ancient- and the plan she and Jaheira had come up with was more important than ever. If she could just hold on for a bit longer, if those fire giants would wait just a bit longer before- Aerie blinked in shock, noticing that the giants she had though were pointing at her, the giants fighting against Minsc and Sarevok- they weren't fighting anymore? No... no, they were heading for the Temple itself, rushing back inside the rumbling halls of the Temple. The two bloodied warriors below were as uncertain as any of them, still holding their weapons at guard, but uncertain of what had just transpired- of course. That volcanic eruption was a trigger, a releasing of the guardian that watched over the heart. And if it had been released, that could only mean one thing.

"Aerie!" Minsc's concerned voice reached her quivering ears as the girl remained where she was, bluish light shining from her hands as she concentrated, keeping her powers stable as fire continued to rain from the sky. "Are you all right? The evil men have run back inside to their hiding holes! But Greywulf and Imoen-"

"I know." Aerie said, her throat hoarse from shouting spells. "We need to get away from the Temple, up toward the cliff face where we split up from..."

Minsc nodded, either knowing that Aerie could not move and keep up her powers or simply out of over protectiveness, but he picked her up and moved with a swiftness that belied his size, craning his head to shout at the Deathbringer, to gather his attention- the Deathbringer was already climbing the mountainside to return to their old position. Either he had the same plan as them, or he had very good hearing. Regardless, the three of them moved as fast as they dared, finally reaching the plateau that was just under the peak of the mountain opposite the Temple, shielded from the magma falling all around them- and there they found Jaheira seated cross-legged, her eyes closed, palms open, effort twisting her features to speak of the struggle she was experiencing.

"What is she doing?" Sarevok growled as Minsc set Aerie down gently, the elf finally daring to release her spell shields. "Has she been here during our entire battle? What kind of-"

"Do *not* disturb her. Not right now." Aerie growled, uncharacteristically cross, but in no mood to deal with their latest member's taunts or bullying tactics. "She's the final part of our plan... all we need to do now is wait for Greywulf and Imoen to make it out... if they can."

X X X X X X

It was a strange feeling, this. Pushing so much attention inward, giving her all to this one task- not so much in that she had never been so single-minded in her pursuit of a goal, but more so in that it came through her nature magics. She had always been a warrior first, the powers of a druid merely a secondary addition to her arsenal that gave her an edge. Not to say she hadn't kept in practice of every power she could muster, keeping her connection to the earth around her as strong as possible. Still, Jaheira had never considered herself a master of druidic magic. Not like, say, Cernd had been. But she was still every bit the wielder of nature magic that a druid of her rank should have been, and the powers of nature were her to command... if she could master them.

Her consciousness was no longer truly in her body, no, it was dispersed within the very world around her- an experience like this could shatter her mind, leaver her an empty shell of broken thought and memory if she wasn't careful. But it also gave the potential to commune with nature so much better, the ability to see what the earth saw, to feel what it felt... and to push it, mold it to her will if necessary. She snaked her consciousness into the ground, the rock, pushing past the dirt and the rock and the soil until she felt herself literally inside the Temple. The mountainside... she was part of it. She could feel the carving of the Temple all around her, could feel the pounding as battle waged around her- battle? Her brow furrowed and sweat poured from her face as she focused even further- breathless footsteps pounding across her surface, annihilation itself following. Scorched earth passing above as a great being of flame and power passed behind the runner, chasing them relentlessly.

Imoen or Greywulf- it had to be. One of them had retrieved the heart and they were trying to escape. The other one was... there. Back toward the entrance of the Temple, skittering back and forth like a bug across a hot boulder as other presences cracked her surface with their weapons, attempting to squash the annoyance. No- she couldn't divide her attention like this. She had one purpose, and her small foray into seeking out their presences gave her enough information to know that if they could make it out, her powers would be needed right away.

She had cast the spell Implosion before, but it had always been on a small scale- ripping the very earth itself open and creating a chasm into which an enemy could falter and be crushed with the power of the ground itself... it was nothing to be trifled with. But to do something of this magnitude, to cast an Implosion large enough to swallow the Temple itself and everyone inside? She had never tested her powers in such a manner. Never. And yet, this was what she had been born for. This was what she had trained her entire life for- defending innocents, defending the Balance with everything she possessed. It would have to be enough. She felt a sudden wash of cold in the fiery belly of the mountain- no time to figure out what it was. Jaheira pictured the mountainside, the earth surrounding and beneath the Temple cavity. She pictured the pieces of stone that made up that particular mountain, the soil and the stone and the worms and the very essence of nature rolling through it, drew strength from it... and with invisible hands, Jaheira began to push. Pull. Tug at the stone itself, racking the foundations of stone with forces conjured from nature itself.

Like floating within the stone, Jaheira could see the foundations, could feel what kept the Temple in place. Could feel how the mountain was composed. Had to crack the stone beneath, to tear it open and let everything above come tumbling down- she struggled with all her might, but there was nothing. No movement. Nothing. Desperation flooded her- this had to work. It had to. Just like any other Implosion spell- just like it. The size was of no importance... again she pushed. Grasping the rock and the soil and pulling it apart, slipping inside it and crumbling it from inside. A slight tremble of the rock she was focusing on- yes. It began to split and crack, the edges trembling within the mountain itself. Yes- now the one beside it. Pull at it and rend it like parchment- good. Now that big chunk of obsidian, buried deep in the earth. Then the piece of granite. Little by little, she tore apart the mountain from the inside. Another boom above, inside the Temple- they were getting too close to the exit. She had to hurry the process. The whole thing had to go, and soon.

Jaheira focused her powers, her entire being, letting herself go further than she would ever have dreamed- fading out until she could see the entirety of the mountain, like it was a child's play set. Her intangible hands took hold and began tearing, pulling, crushing, breaking... the pressure within her mind was too much. It would kill her if she did not pull back. Jaheira barely felt the trickle of blood running from her nostrils as she hesitated for the briefest of seconds... then delved fully into the spell once more.

X X X X X X

A blast of flame immolated the ground where she had just been standing, sending licks of flame scorching her back despite the Protection from Fire that was shielding her body. If not for the magic she'd been surrounded by, she would have been incinerated long ago; there was still a good chance of that, actually. Imoen limped with all her strength, trying to put as much distance between her and Imix as possible, knowing that she had either two options: run and hope for the best, or turn and try to fight the Elemental Prince of Fire along with two Fire Giant Honor Guardsmen. Injured. Yeah, no.

Still, it wasn't as though she could really outpace her opponents- the only reason she was still ahead of them as it stood was that Imix had as little regard for the fire giants as he did for her- if they got in his way he simply banished them from existence with a single blow of his mighty fist. And by banished from existence, she knew that meant a giant, bloody, fist sized hole in the fire giant's chest. One of the honor guards had been foolish enough to impede Imix's progress as he pursued her- that was not going to happen again. The other was well behind him, following to... she didn't know, praise his skill when he did catch up to her and burn her alive for stealing Yaga-Shura's heart. Which was almost certainly going to happen the moment she reached the stairs heading down the pyramid like structure of the Temple. She supposed that there was a good shot at triggering the numerous traps she'd seen tucked away in the ceiling and that she might meet a sudden end via those monstrosities... but then again, she doubted they had been meant to kill someone running away from the Temple. In which case, something right behind her might get the brunt of the attack- Imoen felt a sudden rush of hope, tempered by the knowledge that she still had to descend roughly one hundred stairs, each one about half her height. With a wounded leg. This could be problematic-

Below the temple, the earth shook, and Imoen nearly tottered over the first step, which would have led her to a very painful tumble- while rolling down the entire staircase would have been quicker than her attempts to hobble it, Imix only a few steps behind her not-withstanding, it would most likely result in a broken neck. It would leave her unable to move, most likely. But her options were getting limited- wait. A distant memory flashed through her mind of a tale Greywulf had told her, a battle fought underneath the city of Athkatla during a quest to fight something called the Unseeing Eye- he had been in a similar position, needing a quick way to descend a flight of stairs... and Imoen inhaled sharply, praying to whichever god might have been listening that this would work. The first thing was to do that which Imix least expected- she leaned back and hurled the heart as far as she could, sending it down the stairway. It flew for far too long, hitting the stairway with a squish and continuing its roll until it lie nearly half the distance of the stairwell down before slowly coming to a halt on one of the stairs. The Prince of Fire had been reaching for her in the moment she'd thrown the still beating organ- his fingers were close enough to raise heat blisters on her skin as she stood, trying to ignore the pain as she concentrated on her next spell, hands preparing the spell as she prepared to take a running jump. She just needed Imix paralyzed by indecision for a brief second... and pause he did, watching the heart go flying.

That was it- the spell was ready, and Imoen braced herself for the pain that was going to follow this stunt. Her hands erupted into a Cone of Cold, pointed at the floor before her, flash freezing the ground and the rocky stair before her. Not that it would last more than a moment- the ambient heat was enough to melt the ice within two seconds of it solidifying. Two seconds being one more than she needed. Running forward and leaping with her hands still erupting in ice, she tucked her legs up as she left the ground, ensuring that she hit the next stair seat first, the three foot drop cracking something in her tailbone- but the ice had done the job. Rather than stopping abruptly with simply another cracked bone, she kept sliding, off the stair and onto the next one, frozen before her landing by the spell she was struggling to maintain throughout the pain. She barely heard Imix roar in fury as she continued her bone breaking slide, the fire in her body traveling up from her rear to her back, each jolt worse than the last as she continued downwards. The ground shook as Imix hurtled down the stairway after her, the sound of the traps she had noted previously triggering upon her bouncy ride echoing as they all dropped after her, right in front of Imix, impeding his progress as he crushed them in annoyance. Fire giants were a blur as they tried futilely to reach out and stop her descent, but her speed had picked up as she moved- none of their reflexes were up to the task. And down below, she could see a small figure behind more fire giants, the edges of his robes burned and his features covered in soot and dirt, but there he was- Greywulf was watching her descent with as much horror as hope, the fire giants he had been dodging and trying to keep distracted now far more interested in the rapidly descending girl, as well as the heart of their master lying unattended on the stairway.

Imoen was coming close to the stair where she her throw had landed the heart- this would be the hardest part. Nabbing the heart in mid slide would be nearly impossible with one hand, but to keep her descent in something of a controlled fashion, where her only injuries were to her tailbone and her lower back would mean remaining in complete control of her spell. No way to have both, and besides, did she really want to live forever? Imoen inhaled sharply as she came close enough to reach out and snag the heart... and with one hand, she did just that. It nearly worked; with one hand still maintaining her Cone of Cold, the other clutching the heart, she nearly kept her perfect slide, staying in 'control' until the very end. Almost. With only one hand creating the ice path she was sliding down, it wasn't wide enough to ensure that her rocky bouncing kept her on the slick path. A bounce took her on half ice, half stone, and with that everything went to hell. Her slide turned into a completely uncontrolled roll, her body bouncing and tumbling like a ragdoll the last dozen steps, ricocheting off the final stair and sliding to a halt in a crumpled, bloody heap at Greywulf's feet. The fire giants and Imix were nearly upon them, their target in sight- Greywulf snarled, dropping to one knee as lightning flashed from his fingertips and struck everyone in the arc before him. It wasn't enough to kill anyone, especially Imix, but once again it hadn't been meant to. From his kneeling position he picked up Imoen's broken body, trying not to look upon her bloodied features, trying not to think at how many bones had shattered upon her final descent- he turned and rushed toward the exit as fast as his body would allow him.

The Temple shook once more, but this time it was much more than a mere tremor. The floor began cracking beneath him, and Greywulf could only muster the power of a Haste spell in response as he began navigating the rapidly shrinking tiles, too much of the path beginning to collapse from under him. It was spreading like wildfire- the cracks were leaving small chunks of rock where entire pieces of floor had stood, but the exit was right there- so close. No way was this going to stop him now, not with Imoen like this. He heard the roar of Imix behind him as he spared a glance over his shoulder- the Elemental Prince was rapidly descending as the entire mountain imploded upon itself. The Fire Giants were gone as well, victims of this unnatural disaster- all that remained was for him to get Imoen and he out alive... which was suddenly much more difficult. The entire last section of flooring that led outside was gone, leaving a span far too wide for him to simply leap over. There were no other ways to reach the exit, no other paths that he could weave over... just the bright light of the exit, and a gap that he would be at in a matter of seconds. He needed an edge-

"Have you forgotten me so quickly?"

No. Not for something like this. He'd promised Jaheira that he wouldn't let it take him again. He'd promised himself that he'd rather die than give in once more. But all he needed was a small taste of power, not the whole, not the entirety of the Slayer. He just needed a bit of its power, enough to make the jump-

"It doesn't work that way and you know it. You cannot have part of us, not anymore, not now that I have been tasted freedom in the past. We must be one, you and I."

An ethereal vision of the Slayer appeared beside him as he ran toward the gap, the ground behind his feet collapsing far too quickly- it wasn't supposed to be this way. He could handle sacrificing himself to hold back the taint. He could handle putting himself on the line if it meant keeping the taint in check. He had even promised Jaheira that he would not let the Slayer take control for her sake. But this was Imoen. His companion for life. She meant more to him than Jaheira, in a way. And to see her like this, broken and bloody, to let it end like this... no. He refused.

Watching the Temple rumble and quake from atop their vantage point, the party grimaced as part of the mountain collapsed, still no sign of their companions, the only sight being that of dust and smoke pouring from the entrance- and then, just as the mountain collapsed entirely, a blur leapt from the dust and the dirt, landing in a crouch, dirt and smoke trailing in wisps from... it. For that was what it was... definitely not a he, or a she, or a human in any way or shape.

"Gods, no..." Aerie breathed in horror, her blue eyes shining as she took a step back. Minsc did not say a word, only glared with hardened eyes as he cradled Jaheira's unconscious body. Sarevok stood, folding his arms, his eyes never leaving the sight below- the Slayer cradling Imoen's body, the heart of Yaga-Shura still clutched tightly in her bruised hands. The Slayer looked up to meet Sarevok's glare, and roared a challenge, a teeth-rattling bellow that belied the slight twinge of humanity audible in the echo.

Sarevok did not flinch. Sarevok did not move. He simply smiled and watched the Slayer stride from the ruin of the mountain, the Avatar of Bhaal unleashed once again, contrary to all promises and oaths to the contrary. No words were necessary.