"All clear?"

The hushed whisper from their half-elf leader didn't stir any response, at least any noticeable one, from Minsc, the ranger's eyes and ears fixed on their surroundings as they waited at the edge of the wood that bordered the smoking ruin of Saradush. So far they had encountered no resistance, no horde of fanatics declaring their loyalty to Yaga-Shura in one breath and spouting murderous threats the next. Barging straight into the camp of their enemy would be nothing short of suicide, and their plan depended on guile, deception, and a bit of misdirection.

"Minsc does not see anything, and Boo cannot smell the stink of our foes inside the city." Minsc murmured, slowly straightening up to his full, imposing height. "We should be safe to use the city as cover to get closer to their camp."

"We should check the ruins for survivors first, before we confront Yaga-Shura." Aerie voiced, glancing about the smoking ruin with concern and pain in her gaze. It was a horrible sight- so much devastation- and for what? Greywulf glanced back at Aerie, pausing a moment as though weighing her suggestion against going after the one responsible for this right away- and after blinking and shaking his head as though clearing the cobwebs away from his brain, he nodded. "You're right. There might still be a few left alive that might have escaped. Split into groups of two- we'll meet on the opposite of the city- the walls overlooking Yaga-Shura's encampment. That's where we'll make our vantage point. Will it be close enough?"

Imoen did not answer right away- she turned from surveying the destruction, then looked back at Greywulf, her ever-present grin and cheer replaced with a hard stare. "It'll be good enough."

He nodded, needing no explanation for her change in demeanor. Not in a situation like this. Here, with so much death and devastation... they knew what they were up against, what kind of atrocities had been committed. The time for jokes and games was through. Still, the others were right- innocents needed to be protected, if there even were any left. The sorcerer gestured down the line with two fingers extended. "Minsc and Aerie, take the chapel. Jaheira and Imoen, take the castle. Sarevok and I will check the inn. If there were any survivors, they would have been bunkered down in those three places. We don't have time for anything more thorough."

The others nodded in agreement, despite any personal reservations they might have had over their searching- while some would have liked to take more time and find those lost and trapped by the devastation Yaga-Shura wrought, others wanted vengeance on the fire giant himself, none questioned their assignment for the moment. Not even Greywulf himself, as he and Sarevok stalked through the rubble, slipping past the blackened pieces of walls and foundations. The Deathbringer behind him used his massive blade to tip over a few pieces of crumbling rock, peering underneath with unhidden impatience. "So, while our enemy waits less than a stone's throw from the castle battlements, we spend our time searching through the debris to find the poor souls unfortunate enough to survive the burning of this place. Tell me brother, do you really expect to find anyone alive in this place?"

Sarevok's sibling did not answer right away, instead continuing forward until they reached what had been the foundations of the tavern- Greywulf knelt and picked up a piece of splintering, charred wood, crumbling in his hands. Looking carefully, the sign of the Tankard Tree could be made out... until it all fell to dust and ash in his hands. Sarevok watched as the half-elf stood, continuing forward and using his quarterstaff to sift through the debris, hoping to uncover one survivor in the ruins. Greywulf's staff hit something solid- he paused, shutting his eyes quickly as he made out the burned, swollen features of the bartender.

"If you did not wish to see it, you should not have searched it out." Sarevok's voice was a snide, self-gratified tone, far too close to his ear. "What did you really think you would find here in this graveyard? A chance for redemption? A hope that you might be able to save yourself from the path you see beneath your feet even now? You will find no solace, no comfort here. Here there is but the dead, an example of the one thing you can use your power for. The one thing you have begun to unlock within yourself."

Greywulf swore and spun to confront the goads of his brother- Sarevok was several yards off, poking through the rubbish as well, though with far less interest or compassion than Greywulf. His blood cooled, confusion dulling his anger. He had been so sure Sarevok was speaking to him- he had heard the voice, right there in his ear. But if not Sarevok... a distant laugh echoed, and Greywulf caught a glimpse of shattered glass beneath his feet. In his reflection, the Slayer flashed a toothy grin before disappearing once again.

"I'm in control." Greywulf whispered to himself, wrapping his cloak tighter, suddenly aware of each and every lifeless body in the ruins surrounding him. The bartender. The pretty waitress Minsc had saved from Gromnir's thug soldiers. The drunkards in the corner, never once sober the entire time they had been in Saradush. All dead, all lifeless... Greywulf tried to ignore the feeling that every one of them was staring at him. "Not the Slayer. Me. I'm controlling its power, not the other way around. I just need... I just need more practice. That's all."

That last statement drew another laugh, this time unmistakable. The tones of the beast he had been attempting to tame mocked him... it was a veritable shock when Sarevok's voice cut in again. "We waste our time here, brother. Yaga-Shura left none alive. We should move on."

"Yes... yes, we should." Greywulf murmured quietly, following his brother as they left what had once been the Tankard Tree, slowly filing towards the western city battlements. "Nothing here at all."

Several hundred yards off, digging through the ruins of the castle, stepping over banners and staircases, Jaheira and Imoen remained silent as they sought for some sign of life, but in vain. No cries for help beneath mountains of rock, no stirring of bodies trapped under stone. Heat still faintly radiated from the fires that had burned the castle to the ground, there at the last. As though the anger and impotent fury of those dwelling within were seeking a release, but would never find one.

Imoen exhaled deeply as she slid aside more debris, trying to quell the nausea, the disgust... and the excitement. Ever since Gromnir's death, ever since she had absorbed a greater portion of the taint, each new battle was a thrill, a drug that left her wanting more at the end. It was like making love, but where the only release was found when she ended someone's life. Just seeing the bodies was enough to make her jittery... and the knowledge of what she was feeling in the midst of such tragedy was sickening. She glanced across the ruins to Jaheira, her bronze features glimmering with sweat and dirt from the exertion of their search. Perhaps this was something she should speak to her about- it could only help. Jaheira had been the closest thing to a mother she had ever known... and despite all their differences, she trusted her words and wisdom in nearly any situation. Not that she listened to it all that often.

But with the nature of the relationship that she and Greywulf had embarked upon... and being fully honest with herself, they had never been 'friends,' at least not in the way she considered Aerie or Minsc to be her friend. She was a mentor, a teacher, a parent figure in a world where her real father was an evil god and her foster one had been killed long ago... no. Telling Jaheira would just make things harder- give the druid one more thing to fret about. She had enough to deal with worrying about Greywulf's ability to stay on the straight and narrow. She could only imagine how Greywulf was coping with this kind of pressure and stress- she'd have to ask him later, once Yaga-Shura had been dealt with. The thought crossed her mind... what if it happened again, when they killed the fire giant? Would his portion of the taint enter them as well? She could barely handle the call of the blood as it stood... what would happen if Yaga-Shura's portion was given to them as well?

Her worries were interrupted as Jaheira whistled quietly, gesturing for the thief-mage to join her. She stumbled over the debris until she got to her side, looking down at what Jaheira had found. Lying before them were several corpses, but one skeleton in particular was dressed in burnt and rotting finery. The skull was crushed but the jaw and teeth were unmistakable in their monstrous nature, as was the ring upon the finger bone. "Count Santele..." Jaheira murmured, planting her spear shaft into the ground beside her. "The vampire Lord makes his triumphant return to the throne of Saradush..."

"And just like everyone else, his reign is cut short by those freaks outside the town." Imoen scowled, letting her gaze rest on the undead corpse for a little longer than she would have liked. "If he and his coven couldn't survive, we aren't going to find anyone else alive. Let's... let's just get moving, before Yaga-Shura and his army figure out we're here, or leave."

"Imoen." Jaheira placed her hand on the girl's shoulder, one pencil-thin eyebrow arching as she gazed into Imoen's eyes, one elven ear twitching. "You seem... distracted. Is everything well?"

Imoen paused for a minute... then shook her head. "I'm fine... just ready to end this."

Tucked against the walls of the city, the chapel was still partially standing, but it did nothing to hide the dead that lay within. Aerie covered her mouth with one slender hand as she despaired of finding any survivors- Sister Farielle lie crushed beneath a piece of collapsed ceiling, her body broken and lifeless, blood staining the ground beneath her. The altar had been smashed and broken by the collapse of the building as well- cabinets in the back lay open, their contents spilling out onto the ground. Vials of holy water were smashed and empty, potions that had been in mid-brew were contaminated and useless, the alchemical ingredients that Farielle had kept scattered to the winds. She'd been keeping the soldiers of the city supplied with as many potions as she could muster, but near the end it was all she could do to keep up with those who lay near death's door.

"Boo hates to say this... but he does not think there will be any left alive in this place." the ranger said quietly, stepping carefully over a piece of crumbling pillar, one of the supports of the structure. "Perhaps we should return to the others-"

A loud crack followed by the sliding of rock and debris echoed from outside the city wall, followed by a curse and the faint echo of someone berating another man. Aerie frowned before realizing the import of what was going on- she gestured to Minsc and the two of them hurriedly moved further back into the building's darkened and collapsed section, the roof slanted and providing a perfect place to hide and watch. They lay there for a few moments longer as the voices grew louder and louder, until the tones were audible, distinguishable. They could only hope that the others would hear the commotion and take notice as well...

"This place will be the death of us if you fools are not more careful. Would that not be the utmost insult- to survive a war spanning all of Faerun only to be crushed beneath a dead city's last, ruinous breaths?"

"Yes sir, it shan't happen again."

"I dare say it shall not. You two are only here so that if by some miracle, there is a last survivor hiding in the ruins, you can bring it to Yaga-Shura so that he may extinguish the spawn's life himself. Otherwise, this is an expedition to gather more materials for my work. The gods know I haven't had any luck procuring more herbs for my work. How am I expected to do quality work for the master if I have no tools?"

Aerie listened, a sense of dread and anger growing within her as she tried to place the voice. So familiar, but the name and face escaped her... as the three men she had heard talking crept into the ruins of the chapel, she finally saw the man at lead in the light. He was short with a hooked nose and spectacles upon his face. Thin, oily hair with unkind, professional features. Aerie's eyes widened and all her emotions vanished as a single, overwhelming thought entered her mind. Him. HIM.

"You!" Aerie shouted, erupting from the back of the chapel with a furious cry. The three men were taken by surprise- the soldiers flanking the Doctor were quick and well-trained. Both had their swords drawn in less than a second. If Aerie had been a warrior charging across the ruined building, they would have been well prepared to meet her advance before she arrived. Unfortunately for them, she was not a warrior. She was a mage and a cleric... and at the moment, completely and totally filled with rage. In less than two seconds, both guards had been reduced to a pile of ash and a charred husk, respectively. The only one left was the Doctor, Yaga-Shura's torturer and information gatherer. Minsc was following behind Aerie, a look of surprise at the cold efficiency with which Aerie had dispatched their opponent, while Aerie stalked towards her prey, his mind only just now telling him to begin running. He spun, trying to bolt- a Power Word Stun echoed through the air freezing him to the spot.

He could do nothing but watch in terror as she spun him around to face her, holding him by the collar with one hand, her other erupting with a Fireball spell, raised high and threatening. There was furious wrath on her face, anger on what were normally such kind, gentle features. "You tortured me in Yaga-Shura's camp, treated me like a slave again! Do you know what kind of things I went through- what you forced me to relive?"

Even if he could've answered, he would not have gotten a chance. Minsc's massive hand dropped on her arm, holding back the hand awash in flame. "Aerie? What are you doing-"

"He was the one who tortured me, Minsc!" Aerie sputtered, pain in her features, only slightly struggling against Minsc's grip. "Let me go- he deserves this!"

Minsc did not relent- the sound of footfalls caused Aerie to finally let up as she glanced around, spotting the rest of their group arriving on the scene, looks of concern amidst one and all, even Sarevok, though his might have been interpreted as curiosity at the sudden change in the normally sweet girl. "What's going on here?" Greywulf paused, looking at the man in her grip. "Who is-"

"The one who tortured us, Aerie and I." Jaheira said coldly, now recognizing him as well. "He liked to hurt people... Aerie is returning the favor, it would seem, though I would not have imagined such an act to be in her nature."

Aerie pulled her gaze from the man and looked up at the others, red, tearing eyes flitting between her friends with a mixture of shame and righteous anger. "He tortured us! Jaheira, you were there- he deserves it-"

"Perhaps... but this is not you, Aerie." Minsc shook his head, slowly releasing her flaming hand. "Still... we were not there. It is your choice..."

Aerie hesitated, the frozen man watching her with sweat trickling down his face... she closed her hand and extinguished the fire, releasing him as he crashed to the ground, unbalanced without her support. "No. I'm not like them. Not like him."

"Agreed." Greywulf said as Aerie stumbled away from him, trying to get her emotions under control. "Minsc and I will question him for a few moments, see if he knows anything about Yaga-Shura's camp. The rest of you should get set up like we planned. I doubt we'll find any survivors... and they might come looking for this one if we wait too long."

Without waiting for a reply, Greywulf grabbed the man by the back of his collar, pulling him along the hard rubble away from the others, Minsc following behind. As soon as they were a good distance from the rest of the others, Greywulf closed his eyes and made the incantations for a dispel, releasing him from the paralysis of Aerie's Power Word. Lying on the ground before the sorcerer and the mage, the Doctor inhaled sharply. "I will tell you nothing! Your tortures are child's play compared to what I have inflicted- you will get nothing from me!"

Greywulf snarled and swung him around, kneeling on his chest with a growl. "You like hurting women, do you? Torturing people? Those are my friends back there. The two girls you tortured- one of them is the woman I love. The other is the witch that my friend here swore to protect with his life. But we don't have time to interrogate you thoroughly, so I'm going to let Minsc do the talking. Minsc, pound him until he tells us something useful."

Before either Minsc or the Doctor could move or say anything, Greywulf made a quick gesture, using arcane gestures to activate a Silence spell. His body had hidden it from view so that Minsc could not see it- the Doctor realized what Greywulf had just done as Minsc picked him up by the collar and raised a fist. Greywulf stepped back and watched- inwardly, he knew he was enjoying it too much- his darker side reveling in the pain of the man before him, but he couldn't bring himself to make it stop. Not yet anyway. The Silence spell would wear off in approximately five minutes. He gave the Doctor less than three before his skull collapsed.

X X X X X X

"No."

Anomen could not hold back a mixture of shock and disbelief from rising to his features as Cernd spoke that simple word, calm and quick, no sorrow and no regrets in his tone. It was a shock in more ways than one- every other time they had spoken the druid's language had been filled with flowery nature analogies, metaphors that wearied the listener but after a time, they sprang naturally from him to the listener. That he was so straightforward, so unapologetic... there was little chance of changing his mind. Anomen held his tongue, not asking the questions, demanding the reconsideration that he might've done in months past. He wasn't a knight yet... but he was getting closer. Keldorn would have been proud, he thought. Keldorn- apparently the relationship between his old mentor and Cernd did not bear as much weight as he might've hoped.

"Cernd... I understand that the grove requires your attention, but surely you understand why I ask." Anomen said after several moments of paused consideration. "We four may not have the strength to achieve our goal in this endeavor- a goal that, I might add, is aimed at restoring the balance as Helm wills it."

Cernd cracked a small smile at that- "Clever, using my own philosophy against me. But my answer remains the same. There is far too much to do here." the four of them followed Cernd away from the private chambers and into the Grand Courtyard overlooking the Pit of Trials where he and Faldorn had fought for supremacy during her reign of darkness in the grove. He gazed into the depths of the pit as he spoke, his sharp features narrowing like a hawk as he spoke again. "The forest grows restless. There is a great darkness growing in these lands as of late. Evil is rising, and the druid grove is still weakened, split from Faldorn's influence. There yet remain Shadow sympathizers who watch, wait for an opportunity to repeat the coup which nearly wrecked the grove."

"Then why do you stand for their insolence?" Nalia asked, gesturing around them. "Why wait until they show their treachery if you know who they are? Root them out now and save yourself bloodshed down the road. Make an example of one of them; let them know that you and your kind are not to be trifled with. The others will fall into line soon enough."

Cernd glanced at Nalia, and then shook his head as he crossed his arms across his bare chest. "That is not the way of things here. Perhaps in the city, where servants are many and equals are hard to find... but here, in the grove, each man and woman has leave to seek his own path, choose his own destiny in the world."

"So long as it conforms to your specific ideas of what a druid's destiny should look like." Solaufein remarked quietly.

The shapeshifter nodded, conceding the point. "Admittedly, even in the midst of the wild there is order to a degree, as it must be here. We will allow any druid who wishes to leave that right. We will harbor and shelter any who wish to study our ways and choose how they wish to learn. But we will not permit those who would attack us. Not after they have proven their intent."

"Naive... I would have agreed with you once upon a time, however, so I cannot fault you too harshly." Nalia sighed, looking to Anomen. "It does not appear we shall have his aid assaulting Watcher's Keep. Is there yet more to do here or shall we depart?"

There was naught but the sound of frogs and chirping crickets in the chamber for a time as Anomen tried to find the words, but he came up short. "I suppose not. If you feel your place is here, then so be it. I shall not force you from it, nor do I think I could were I to try. From what I understand, Sir Keldorn thought highly of your martial skills."

"No more so than I of his." Cernd finally relaxed, letting his rigid posture go, allowing his lean frame to sage slightly. "I offer you my best wishes along your path. May nature shield you from the dangers you face."

"Be well." Anomen bowed slightly and turned, Reynald and the others following in his wake.

Cernd watched them depart, then motioned to a pair of young druids walking through the chamber hall. "Be kind enough to follow our guests until they have reached the borders of the grove safely. Maintain their safety if need be, though I doubt they will have need of your aid. Simply a precaution."

They nodded and went to take up their quarterstaffs and leather armor before following. Cernd sighed, looking down at the dust and rock beneath his feet. Should he have told them? Just what kind of evil they would be facing within Watcher's Keep? Oh yes, he and the druids knew of what lurked deep in the heart of Helm's tower. The druids had once fought in a great battle involving the captive monstrosity lurking inside. He knew quite well what would happen if it were to get free... and he knew that the Knights of the Vigil would be none too happy to see a druid accompanying Anomen's chosen party.

He turned to the Hall of Memories, where paintings upon the wall reflected great moments of history in their druidic order- and great moments of shame. One painting in particular that Cernd was drawn too- a ritual the druids had performed, to bring balance to a tainted and scorched land- it had gone so terribly wrong, releasing nothing but death, opening a gateway to the Underworld... and to a monstrosity that should never have been set free. It had been thousands of years since that time. Thousands of years since the druids had erred against Faerun. As self-imposed punishment, the druids kept close watch on where their foe resided, where he slept and waited for another chance to cross over into the mortal plane.

Perhaps it would have made more sense then, to go with them, to make certain that their folly would not be repeated again… but no. That guilt had been paid for by the blood of countless servants of nature in the past. No need to relive old guilt and debt. For now, his destiny lay upon a new path, rebuilding their world: helping the elves against the drow, keeping the remaining Shadow druid followers under control... and watching for the threat of the god-spawn emerging. That was more than enough to keep him busy for a time... no need to add the Prince of Demons to the mix.

X X X X X X

The air was putrid, thick with smoke and burning meat. It was humid as well, like a sauna all around him as he walked. His robes were sticking to him, the sweat that poured off of him staining his gray robes a darker shade. Everything was a clatter of busy-ness, a bustling ruckus that, if Greywulf had to pick one moment to compare it to, was like the time their original party, the one that had gone after Sarevok, had infiltrated the bandit camp outside of Nashkel. Men and women crowing about their ill-gotten gains, piles of loot alongside tents and cots, weapons and armor stacked alongside trophies and spoils of war. An underlying hint of menace behind everything, just enough to make him feel uncomfortable about sneaking in, knowing that if they knew who he was, just who was hidden beneath that bandit outfit, they'd all have been after a piece of him.

This time, however, things were different. No sneaking into Yaga-Shura's encampment, no hiding beneath costumes and disguises. Greywulf walked alone, even his quarterstaff gone, across the small, dried up creek bed that marked the border of the fire giant's encampment. He passed several tents on the outskirts, even catching the eye of one or two perimeter guards who were either too dumb or too uninformed to know just who this stranger was. Wizards and mages were no uncommon sight in the war camp he supposed, and if he had learned anything from Imoen about sneaking around, it was that given a big enough setting, one could get a long ways by simply looking like you belonged.

Not that it could last. No, that would be too easy. A shout from one of the soldiers as he passed ever further into their encampment was directed his way- he tried not to let himself smile. He was going to enjoy this- finally, payback for Saradush. Finally, a chance to let the rage, the power he had been taming within him loose on a worthy foe... a sibling. He stopped in his tracks, curling his fist as flames grew around it- his eyes flashed open as he looked up at the path ahead, spying two soldiers slowly picking up the pace, jogging and then running at him with weapons rising. A ball of fire immolated them both and he kept walking, not even bothering to wait until the armies of the Bhaalspawn made themselves known, simply clearing a path of devastation towards the center of their camp. Tents were set aflame, trees were reduced to cinders, and men were disintegrated.

The ground began shaking around him- that was his cue to either worry or be pleased- he wasn't sure which. It would depend on what was causing the shaking- a fire giant emerged several dozen yards off, pointing with a bellow, but his beard was dark brown, maybe red, but certainly not the bright orange flame that Yaga-Shura was known for. This was just another minion. Another pawn to be shoved aside before the real challenge. "Let me out... I could draw him to you..."

The Slayer- the voice was still abhorrent, but he was beginning to deal with it. Ever since he'd begun trying to harness the power of the demon within him rather than deny it completely, he'd become ever more... accustomed, to its presence within him. Not to say he ever intended to give it the kind of control it ultimately desired... but if this compromise worked, he'd have a newfound advantage in every battle he faced against his brethren. But to transform... he still had to be careful with that kind of thing, especially with the others. They wouldn't understand. He smiled, picturing the Slayer ripping his foes apart- no. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind and instead reached out with a Bigby's Crushing Fist, lifting the Fire Giant high off the ground, taking small comfort in the screams of the massive humanoid as he prepared to slam it to the ground. Yaga-Shura had best make an appearance soon- he couldn't fight the whole army on his own. But he didn't intend to. He just needed to get his brother's attention. As the fire giant slammed into the earth below, Greywulf reared his head back and screamed, "YAGA-SHURA! FACE ME!"

From across the war camp, at one of the few remaining towers along the Saradush wall, Imoen peered out from between the guard bricks, not wanting to risk a random spotter noting their position. The plan all depended upon Yaga-Shura's unending arrogance... his willingness to face Greywulf one-on-one rather than using his army to squash the wizard. She glanced over at Sarevok, the big man's arms folded as he looked out upon the field, glowing eyes narrowed. He watched as the Bigby's Crushing Fist raised the fire giant above the sparse trees and smirked as he felt the slight vibration of it hitting the ground. "Get down, y'bufflehead." Imoen whispered harshly, motioning for him to take some measure of cover. "What if they spot you?"

"Hnh." Sarevok grunted, not moving a muscle. "First of all, your use of the term 'bufflehead' makes me want to gag. Second, take a look at the commotion that our dear brother is causing. They have no clue we exist."

Imoen scowled at her brother but did as he said, glancing out from cover, noting with dismay, that what he said was true. From all over the camp she could see men and women and fire giants beginning to swarm towards Greywulf's position. She heard the echo of his shout, his declaration of war against Yaga-Shura. Surely the giant wouldn't turn down the chance to finish off a sibling with his own hands... if he didn't make his move quickly, they wouldn't have much time to rescue their companion. She peeked over the edge, making sure that Minsc, Aerie and Jaheira were in position- waiting by the base of the tower, looking out towards the camp where Greywulf had gone- probably a few hundred yards between them and Greywulf.

It would be a long, hard sprint if Greywulf needed their aid, but this was the minimum safe distance they'd determined such that Yaga-Shura's men wouldn't accidentally spot them. Also, while it would take Imoen and Sarevok time to get down from the tower in case things went south, the others could still react quicker. It wasn't a perfect plan... but it would work. It had to work. Imoen fingered the taut string on her bow and drew one of the arrows from her quiver, nervously gazing at the bulbous tip. It would be hard to aim, hard to control... but only for someone who hadn't done it before. She had the experience, had the skill. She'd better, if Greywulf had any sort of chance.

She sighed, glancing at Sarevok again for a moment. "Y'ever use these kinds of arrows before? What am I talking about, of course y'have. Yer men down in the Undercity nearly destroyed all of us with a few. Kind of hard to find though- not too many shops carry Arrows of Detonation. Not that it stopped us-"

Sarevok rolled his eyes as Imoen continued speaking, rambling on and on about meaningless drivel, just another of the traits he was thankful that her tiny portion of soul had not transferred to him. He could have sworn that she was doing it on purpose to annoy him... but there was nothing for it except to tune her out, to try and focus on something- anything else. He let her words drone on in the back of his mind, choosing instead to focus on the rest of his surroundings, letting the lids of his eyes close as he inhaled deeply, nearly slipping into a meditative state. He could still hear her, and surely she'd let him know when Greywulf sent the signal or if they need aid... but... but... he heard something.

His brow knit slightly, as he tried to place the faint sound against the ambience of everything else- a gritty sliding noise, like sandpaper against stone. He had heard it in the past... and he knew exactly what it was. Leather soles sliding against flooring in order to keep from making footsteps. It was a hard noise to pick up, and almost impossible to catch unless you were listening for it... or if you had been the target of assassins in the past. Invisible men and women, using magic to cloak themselves while sidling up to their target to tend their life. He concentrated further, knowing he only had seconds before he would have to act- three different sources. Maybe four. Sarevok grimaced- no reason to be hunting him- they were after the Bhaalspawn. Imoen. He could strike the location of one of them, but the others would attack right away and Imoen would be dead. And if Imoen died, Greywulf would follow soon after at the hands of Yaga-Shura... unacceptable.

Imoen paused as Sarevok's armor shifted, and she was certain he was about to lay out another sarcastic remark about her tendency to blather on... which to be perfectly honest was one of the ways she tried to annoy the Deathbringer... but there were no words. Imoen glanced behind her to see what Sarevok was up to- his blade was planted firmly in his hands, his back to her as he stood stone still, eyes flitting back and forth. "What-?

Sarevok cut off her question with a snarl. "Ready yourself- we are not alone! Cast your spells of detection before they strike!"

Imoen did not bother to ask how Sarevok had come to this knowledge, what he had seen or heard- she had just begun to make the incantations when she heard the sounds of footsteps nearby- far too close! Sarevok had apparently heard the same and hurled himself back, raising his sword in front of Imoen. An invisible blade ricocheted off the block, but his luck ended there. Pushing himself in front of her also put him squarely in the path of two crossbow bolts that had been aimed at Imoen. Both pierced his armor, sinking into his side. He sank to the ground with a groan, just as Imoen finished her spell, illuminating the unseen assailants.

Four dark armored elves pressed at her, their faces and features unmistakable. "Drow? Gods no... of all times, not now!" Imoen shouted desperately as she swung her bow up with the arrow of Detonation strung and ready- too late. The closest elf knocked the weapon from her hands as the arrow swung high and shot lightly into the air, sailing over the edge of the tower. His hand gripped her throat and raised the relatively short girl off the ground, the tips of her boots dangling as she groped at the hand holding her up. The one holding her leaned in closer, examining her face for a few moments, before grinning darkly. "I know who you are, little one. Imoen... one of the wards of Gorion. One of the two we will kill today in the name of Sendai."

"More... ghhkkk... more assassins, huh?" Imoen choked out, just catching with her peripheral vision the sight of something hurtling downwards outside the tower radius. She managed a slight smile. "Don't know any 'Sendai'... but you didn't hurt my friends downstairs... did ya?"

"Their lives are meaningless." her assailant hissed, raising his blade to impale her upon it. "Tell us where to find Greywulf. He was not with your companions downstairs- cooperate and your passing will be swift."

An explosion at the base of the tower rocked the ground, making her opponent stumble for a half-second- enough for her to swing her legs upward in an acrobatic maneuver that rocked the drow back onto his heels as Imoen's feet slammed into his chin. His grip loosened and she maintained her momentum enough to make a complete back-flip as she landed in a crouch, one hand on the ground as the other drew her short sword from her belt. "Yer gonna wish you'd killed me when you had the chance. And that you hadn't left my friends down there alone. Damn, yer just making all kinds of mistakes today..."

Despite her bravado, Imoen was all too aware that they were in trouble. Sarevok was down, possibly dead, and while she held no love for him, he was a fine warrior and if drow assassins were on their trail, his help would be invaluable. Not to mention that the prospect of her fending off four of them at one time was next to impossible. Jaheira and the others would be racing up the tower steps after seeing that explosion beside them- assuming the explosion hadn't actually killed them, but what were the chances of that happening- and so she only had to hold off four drow for... say, thirty seconds. And be ready to aid Greywulf when the time came. Yes, her earlier assessment was correct. They were in trouble.

Back down on the forest floor, inside the war camp of Yaga-Shura, Greywulf stood his ground, surrounded on all sides by blades, bows and spells. He let his gaze drift over every one of them, slowly turning to see just what kinds of death awaited him if even one of them decided it better to kill him now rather than wait for their master. No... they were too loyal. Too devoted to their 'god' to deny him this chance. Their mistake to make, and one he would not let go unpunished. The ground shook for a moment, and Greywulf thought it was Yaga-Shura... no, it was from back at the tower. Had something gone wrong? A sense of panic began rising within him, but it was quelled almost immediately by the voice within. "There is no need to fear. Should every one of your plans fail, you have the power to tear the fool's chest open with your own hands!"

It was true... and how could he be blamed if it came down to it? This method was one where he could accomplish his goals without the use of the taint, but if there was no alternative... he settled down again. The others could handle themselves without his needless worrying. And unbeknownst to them, so could he. A booming laugh echoed overhead- filled with arrogance, malice and unbridled savagery... no question that his opponent had finally shown himself. Bursting through the line of soldiers and men, a fire giant taller than all the rest, with blazing orange hair and beard, Yaga-Shura was truly a fearsome sight to behold. His eyes were wide with the anticipation of gaining the power of another child of Bhaal. Just as he had hoped, the giant had grown complacent. Weak. He did not wear heavy plate armor or pauldrons- he wore greaves but no shirt, letting his massively scarred, bare chest do all the talking. And why not? For one such as him, invulnerable and regenerating... every scar was simply another reminder of his power.

"What a disappointment you created for me, worm!" boomed Yaga-Shura. "I redoubled our efforts to crush this worthless town when I heard you were within, the Terror of the Sword Coast...only to find you gone! I thought I would have to content myself with slaughtering all the weakling Bhaalspawn in the city and forgetting about you... but here you are!"

"No need to hide from scum like you." Greywulf raised both hands, showing that he had no weapon, his quarterstaff abandoned in place of using both hands for spellcraft. "I've come alone, even sent my sister away. Face me one-on-one, without your army. Or are you frightened?"

Yaga-Shura paused a moment... then let out a horrendous laugh, spittle flying from his mouth as he reared his head back. "Hahahaha! You amuse me, brother! But I shall grant your request- for when they see me destroy you singlehandedly, there will be no doubt that I am the greatest of all the Bhaalspawn!"

The rest of the army backed away, creating an arena of sorts, wishing to see the glory of the master first-hand while still fearful of the collateral damage that could and quite probably would occur when these two god-spawn battled. Yaga-Shura hefted his massive war hammer, the head of the weapon glowing green as he swung it once, twice, letting the sheer size of the weapon intimidate his foes. Greywulf flexed his hands, snapping his hands open as lightning danced in his hands. A little show boating on both sides- the fire giant was cocky, willing to take his time with this fight. Good- give Imoen more time to make the shot. He subconsciously glanced down to the pouch of spell ingredients hanging from his belt. It was much bigger than usual- and if Yaga-Shura had any idea that his heart was hanging inside he would have been acting with quite a bit more urgency.

X X X X X X

The explosion that rocked the ground knocked Jaheira, Minsc and Aerie off their feet as clods of grass and dirt rained all around them. It had been far too close to them- had they been spotted by Yaga-Shura's encampment? Were they catapults, hurling explosive death towards their position? No... it was something else entirely. Minsc shook his head to try and get the ringing out of his ears as he got to his hands and knees- he glanced to his right to make sure Aerie was all right, she was slower getting up, but she looked to be fine. Minsc shouted a word of warning, pointing up toward the top of the tower- Aerie frowned, looking at him strangely. "What?"

"I said, we must make sure Imoen is all right! What did you say?"

"I can't hear you, what? My ears are still ringing-"

Jaheira grabbed Minsc by the shoulder, pointing toward the passageway at the base of the tower leading up to the top. "Minsc! We should make certain Imoen is all right! Someone should remain here in case Greywulf needs aid-"

"I think one of us should stay here!" Minsc shouted back, "Boo cannot hear you!"

Aerie gripped her forehead with a wince, her hearing finally returning, a touch quicker than the others, having been the furthest away from the blast. "Both of you get upstairs- I'll watch Greywulf's position from here." A few accompanying hand motions were enough to convey her point and within moments Minsc and Jaheira were ascending the tower stairs, taking the steps two and three at a time as they made their way ever higher. Jaheira felt the trickle of blood running down her cheek- a piece of rock or dirt had hit her squarely in the face after the explosion- no time to take care of it now. Whatever had hit was either aimed at them or Imoen... or was it? The Arrows of Detonation Imoen had- some kind of call for help?

The idea that they might be running into a battle right there and then was just enough for Jaheira to brace herself- and just in time. A dark shape leapt down the stairway with dagger bared, ready to plunge into an unwary neck. Jaheira had just raised her spear to guard position, and let the tip rise to catch the leaping figure in the chest, swinging him up and over her head, sending him crashing down the stairs. Minsc's eyes widened at the sudden attack and Jaheira's ungodly reaction time- he grinned and drew his blade, Jaheira inhaling sharply as adrenaline surged through her system, letting the ranger take point.

At the top of the tower, Imoen rolled aside from a crossbow bolt that shattered a few inches from where her head had been a second prior. One of the drow had moved back to guard the tower climb from her companions, but that still left her fighting a three on one battle, and it was not going well. The top of the tower was not exactly a big place to hold a battle royale, and she had just enough speed and space to keep dodging, but she could not find the time or opportunity to mount any kind of counterattack. She came up from the roll she'd performed to avoid a set of crossbow bolts and let out a yelp of fear as an obsidian blade landed in front of her, her momentum nearly taking her head to where it would have been split like a fresh melon.

One of the drow wielding a crossbow fired again- Imoen blurted out the trigger word for her Stoneskin spells and watched in relief as the shot ricocheted off her magical protection. She tried to swing to her feet but a kick sent her rolling across the tower floor before hitting the guard stones. The drow holding the blade snarled as he landed another blow, the only effect being a third skin dropping. How many left- Imoen tried desperately not to think about it as she hurriedly shouted another set of incantations and thrust her hands out from lying on her back- a Prismatic spray engulfed her opponent as two more blots hit her body, the second one leaving her vulnerable and unprotected once again. If the spell didn't do enough to hold the drow before her back, it would all be over- as the blinding light cleared, Imoen was rewarded with the sight of a stone statue of a drow warrior, frozen in time with sword raised high to strike, but never to fall. One chance to save herself again- Imoen flexed her stomach muscles and flipped to her feet from lying on her back, slipping behind the statue of the drow as more crossbow bolts struck the statue instead of her.

A temporary solution at best- she peeked out and sure enough, the two remaining drow were simply moving to either side of the tower, making certain she couldn't use the statue to defend herself against both. She needed an edge- and like it or not, spells were going to be difficult to get out with two archers on her. Damn it. Behind her, leaning against the edge of the tower guard stones, was her bow… could she get it and get a shot off before she took at least one crossbow shot to the back, chest, or leg? Maybe an invisibility spell... using their own tactics against them? Imoen smirked, beginning the incantations and disappearing from sight before either could get a clean shot. Easy to get her bow now, or maybe she should simply finish one of them with a spell right away-

Before she could make a decision, she heard a self-satisfied laugh and peeked out just in time to see a wave of white powder slice through the whole area nearby, catching her right in the face and upper chest. Imoen sputtered once or twice, then paled as she realized what had happened, looking at the drow standing there with an empty pouch at his feet. Flour. Sticking to her... and effectively negating her spell. Of course they'd be prepared for this kind of thing- they were hunting a sorcerer and a thief-mage after all- but to be defeated by a common baking ingredient? This was just embarrassing. If she got out of this, she wasn't telling Greywulf. *If*, of course, being the optimal word in this situation. She ducked behind the statue again as her sudden appearance drew two more shots.

Another bolt hit the statue, this one sending a small chip of stone off that struck her cheek. She winced, knowing she had only another few seconds to make a new decision- before it was made for her. She tensed, getting ready to make her move- a familiar roar echoed across the tower and Imoen grinned, knowing she'd just been given a reprieve. Minsc leapt from the tower staircase with sword upraised, bringing it down to bisect one of the drow marksmen. The dark elf was given just enough warning by Minsc's battle cry and managed to roll out of the way, landing beside Sarevok's lifeless body- but he was given a rude awakening as muscled arms snaked out, intertwining with the drow's ankles, bringing him to the ground with the clack of teeth as the drow's chin hit first. He looked back in shock to see Sarevok's eyes open, a furious rage borne of pain on his face as he pulled at the man's legs, trying to bring him closer to where he could get a hold of the elf's neck. The drow swung his crossbow downwards to aim at the Deathbringer's head- a spear pinned his arm to the ground at the elbow, Jaheira twisting the spear with a snarl as the man dropped the crossbow with a twitch of the hands.

Imoen leapt for her bow and came up with it in her hands, already swinging to find the second drow- only to see that drow's crossbow aimed right into her face. "Well crap."

A downswing from Minsc ended the life of the injured drow as Jaheira knelt by Sarevok, Minsc turning his attention to the drow with at his mercy, the elf never taking his eyes off the thief-mage as he snarled, "I will kill her if any of you move closer. Do not move."

"And we will have your head on a pike if you harm a hair on her head." Jaheira shot back, glancing down at Sarevok's wounds- blood had pooled around him, but not as much as she would have expected from two injuries such as his. The armor had kept the bolts from piercing too far- he would live if she was given time to work her magics. Time that would not be afforded to her until Imoen was safe.

"Release her, or you will feel the wrath of Minsc! Boo will tear your eyeballs from their sockets!" Minsc pointed at the offending drow while holding his great sword with one hand- just another example of what kind of strength lay inside the ranger's body.

The drow held his crossbow even tighter- he didn't want to die here, but his mission, his orders were clear. "You may destroy me, but Sendai has hundreds more like us. We will be your death in the end."

"Sendai?" Jaheira paused, then nodded grimly. "One of Yaga-Shura's allies, undoubtedly… another Bhaalspawn with delusions of godhood. Your masters will never succeed. Nature itself will defy you."

"Maybe, but my mistress demands the heads of the wards of Gorion- I can do no other than obey her to the end." the drow sneered, pressing the crossbow harder into Imoen's temple. "One will die here; the other will follow, if not by my hand, then another. There is no escape."

Behind them, out in the war camp of Yaga-Shura, a lightning bolt erupted from the ground and flashed through the sky. The signal they had agreed upon! It was time for their part- and there was no way they'd be able to pull it off.

X X X X X X

The war hammer struck the ground where Greywulf had been standing, the sorcerer activating a Shadow Door spell at the last moment, slipping through the planes to appear across the makeshift arena, invisible from human sight. The giant whirled around, eyes narrowed as he looked for his foe. He growled in frustration and swung his hammer low in a sweeping circle, trying to ferret out his invisible foe. Greywulf tensed, trying to decide if now was the time- if he sent the signal to Imoen, she'd be able to get the shot off, but Yaga-Shura would know his position and move right for him. He needed to get him on the ground, give himself time to send the signal and make certain he would be far enough away that the blast wouldn't catch him as well.

Before he could make the choice, Yaga-Shura lowered his shoulders and charged across the arena, swinging wildly. He couldn't see Greywulf, but he was coming past his position- the war hammer grazed his side and sent him flying, rolling across the ground as his cloak tangled up around him as well. The slight glancing blow was enough to crack at least two ribs- his whole body ached with each breath. A howl of victory issued from Yaga-Shura as his invisibility faded, and Greywulf forced himself to concentrate as he leveled a hand at Yaga-Shura, unleashing a Cone of Cold, trying to buy time so that he could get back to his feet. The giant leaned into the ice blast, pushing through the growing ice crystals on his body. His stilted movements continued, even as the intense cold continued spewing from Greywulf's hands... it ceased, Yaga-Shura's torso and upper legs encased. He laughed, eyes blazing with hatred at Greywulf, the sorcerer slowly rising. "You fool! I am immortal! You will beg for mercy before Yaga-Shura has finished with you!"

The ice began cracking, shattering under his massive strength- and Greywulf saw his opportunity. He raised a hand, letting lightning erupt from it, striking high into the sky. After the energy had blazed for a second, he let his hand drop and directed the blasts of magic at Yaga-Shura himself, the lightning striking through the ice and into Yaga-Shura's body. His flesh burned and blackened, only to regrow and renew after a few seconds. It was true- any conventional assault would have no chance of victory. Greywulf tensed, dropping a hand toward the pouch where he kept Yaga-Shura's still beating heart, waiting for the Arrow of Detonation to tear the giant's chest open- Yaga-Shura finally burst from the ice, hefted his war hammer and started stomping towards Greywulf. There was still no arrow from Imoen to be seen... this was not good. Yaga-Shura swung his hammer so quickly that it was all Greywulf could do to summon a Mantle spell before he found himself bowled through the line of Yaga-Shura's men forming the edge of the arena- the men quickly pushed him back into the circle of battle, Greywulf's wits knocked from him with the massive blow. If the others didn't hurry... he felt the power of the Slayer gnawing at him, whispering in his ears...

Atop the guard tower, it had been nearly ten seconds since the signal... Greywulf needed her, and fast. She thought of what Jaheira had told her, what Sarevok had told her. It was all about protecting her and Greywulf, all about keeping them alive to fulfill whatever destiny the taint had in store for them. To her, there was no doubt that Greywulf was the stronger of the two. If anyone could master the power of Bhaal, could make use of it for good, it was him. He needed her right now. Whatever the cost- he needed to survive, more than her. Only one chance to make this right- and with a quick exhalation of breath, she went for it.

Imoen jerked backwards, the opposite direction of the pressure that the drow had been putting on her neck. There was no reason for her to try and push backwards, after all... that would only lead off the edge of the hundred foot high tower. And sure enough, he was taken completely by surprise as she slipped from his grasp, her back pressing against the tower edge, one hand already going for her quiver and the Arrows of Detonation back there. She spun to her right, into the drow's body so that her vision was facing the war camp- this would be her last moment of clear vision- one split-second to take in the position of Yaga-Shura, his figure towering over the top of the rest, and with that she leapt.

The sound of the others, their cries of surprise and shock were all but lost to her as she hurtled through the air, gravity already beginning to tug downwards- but not before she had drawn the arrow to the bow. The last of her upward momentum ceased as she drew the string back, praying to any and all gods that this shot would hit its target- and as she slipped into free fall, released the arrow. Now to face a death that would be upon her in seconds- what in the world? An enormous updraft was slowing her descent... she looked below in shock, seeing Aerie with her feet planted and hands raised, wind gusting and forming a cyclone below her- the Avariel was straining far beyond anything she had ever done before. How long could she keep it up?

Greywulf struggled in the grip of Yaga-Shura, the giant holding him clenched within both hands, raised high in the air as he bellowed a laugh. Greywulf's Mantle spell was all but gone- he would be vulnerable within seconds. Time to make a decision. "I should have been the first sent after you, and now I shall prove it! Yaga-Shura shall become even greater still! Now, embrace oblivion!"

Without warning, a whistling sound entered the arena- Greywulf craned his neck behind him to see an arrow hurtling through the air, landing several feet from Yaga-Shura's position- the detonation sent the giant hurtling to the ground, the rest of the men surrounding the battle knocked off their feet by the shockwave. Greywulf was flung to the ground beside Yaga-Shura's form- but there was his chance. Imoen had failed... but he could do it. Could finish the job- Greywulf stumbled over to Yaga-Shura as the giant began to stir- climbing atop the humanoid's chest, his eyes flashed golden and he reached deep down into his soul... touching the power and the taint within. His body began shifting, changing... but not into the Slayer. Not completely. He was an amalgam, a mixture of humanity and demon, a monstrous shape that was far too beastly to be considered human, but not quite the form of power that he had taken in the past. As his arm swam out of view, replaced with a massive claw, he thrust it downwards, pounding through flesh and bone and meat. Yaga-Shura howled in pain as the Slayer-Greywulf tore a hole into his chest cavity, the other, human hand reaching into the pouch and yanking the throbbing heart from its resting place. Yaga-Shura's bleary eyes fixed on it, and he began to scream in terror, realizing what was about to happen.

The Slayer-Greywulf snarled, half-elf features rapidly shifting demonic, back and forth. "Too late now, brother. You lose."

His hand slammed the heart into the cavity where it had once rested... and light blasted forth from the fire giant's chest, mouth and eyes as Yaga-Shura screamed. The chest closed up rapidly as Yaga-Shura clawed at his own body, trying to get the organ out... but it was far too late. The effects of reuniting the heart with the body were already underway- a shock wave of magic erupted from Yaga-Shura's body, then another, and another. Everyone nearby was flattened, and as they swept outwards, the tower that the others were seated upon, even Aerie and Imoen, the elf trying to keep her from a messy death on the rocks below... all of it was blown backwards as the rock tumbled downwards, destroying the few remaining structures left in Saradush... along with everything inside them.