Wars of the Bhaalspawn

by Capt. Incredible

Complete! The Throne of Bhaal can no longer be left unoccupied- a war for the Throne has begun. With his closest companions at his side, one Bhaalspawn sorcerer moves ever closer to claiming the power of Bhaal for his own, regardless of desire or intent.

28. Part 2: A Path to War

Part 2: Throne of Bhaal

Author's Note: He updates? What? Well, hey there everyone. It's that time again, though I do feel I need to apologize for the long delays. I'm sure a lot of y'all wondered if this thing was dead, but I'd say... more on hiatus for a bit. Is a year long hiatus long enough? I think so. The motivation is back, and the plan is for bi-weekly updates, give or take. So yeah- let's roll out with a jumbo size chapter!

Far above the plains and deserts and oceans of Toril, past the clouds and the snow-capped peaks of the highest mountain ranges, seated above even the planets and empty spaces in the heavens, they watched. They observed. They gazed down on those mortals whose actions were so very… insignificant, compared to their own, and yet the consequences and ramifications of what they may or may not choose to do could shake the very foundations of their own worlds and realms.

Cloaked features gazed upon the small globe that floated in the midst of their presence in the stars, and with the flick of an ethereal hand, the globe stretched and warped, slowly turning a bright orange hue before changing shape, the edges and bottom growing hard and rocky. Long jagged points began forming upward as the globe flattened into a semi sphere, flat on the top with rock and molten lava on the bottom. It floated closer and closer, growing large until the observers could see the tiny specks upon this miniature plane of Murder, could make out those forms who had been summoned at the whim of the Bhaal-tainted one who ruled this small, gruesome realm.

"So… the god-child has summoned more allies to his side. I had not expected this from him." A shrouded woman spoke, her voice echoing from the sparkling robes that covered her, spreading into the void that surrounded the radiant figures.

"Truly? My only surprise comes from the fact that he did not do this sooner." Another voice sounded, emanating from an armored form in glowing white plate mail, eyes burning bright with holy fire. A smaller, similarly armored form stood at his side, a sword always at the ready. "He serves a just cause, and those he has aided in the past will no doubt see the righteousness with which he strives-"

A mocking laugh caught the attention of the god-knight, a sneer in the dark as an ebony form, only just visible in the darkness, even to those with divine vision. "You assume too much, oh god of Justice. My devotee follows him for much more… self-centered reasons. I do not expect her counsel will push him onto the narrow path you espouse so fiercely."

The goddess of Darkness flashed an unkind smile at the armored divine- his shield-bearer took a step forward as if to defend his master's honor, but Lord Torm raised a gauntleted hand, holding his servant back. "Pay no mind to Shar's taunts and goads. Her words are as empty as her soul. Aside from all this, there will be no battle between gods here. The Vigilant One will make certain of that, I am sure."

At the sound of his title, all the gods present glanced to the ever watching eye, the guardian god holding his blade at guard without moving, without flinching as he gazed upon their meeting, only by his own judgment allowing them this vision, this access into the events unfolding in the Bhaal-plane below.

"Ugh... you really could do with making this place a bit more... lively, couldn't you?" a dry, half-insulting tone issued from the ether around as another dark deity formed from the mist, a pale figure in black and red robes. Cyric's wicked smile widened as Helm remained silent and unmoving at his taunts. "Come now, surely you needn't keep this tidbit of your realm so... dead?"

"I prefer it to the realm of these fools." Shar tossed out, running a long nailed finger down her cheek before gesturing towards Mystra and Torm. "But there is little point in remaining here for me, I think. My cleric will keep me appraised of this Bhaalspawn's activities... whether she knows it or not. Ha. Hahaha..."

Shar vanished as quickly as she had arrived, leaving the Lord of Lies in her place. He grinned and sauntered up, leaning over at the representation of the Bhaal-plane that floated before them. His hand reached out to touch the small sphere- Helm's blade stretched out, resting on Cyric's fingers.

"There will be no interference from the gods in the destiny of the Bhaalspawn." Helm intoned, his mighty voice echoing through the void. "Father Ao has forbidden it."

"Of course he has, and that's why you're here now, to make sure we don't drop a plague of boils or flies on these little godlings, I'm well aware of what Lord Ao has said." Cyric scowled, withdrawing his hand. "If you'll recall, I was the one who showed you how Dianya of Letherel was interfering in this particular god-spawn's path, and you gave me permission to make her cease."

"A duty you performed with troubling enthusiasm." Mystra remarked, frowning as she folded her arms beneath her robes.

"I simply kept her from pushing too far. Tit for tat and all. I'm sure any of you would be thrilled to put me in my place were I to go jumping head first into this little mortal's life. But speaking of, I didn't come all this way to engage in discourse with the likes of you, as unutterably entertaining as that prospect sounds." Cyric smirked, turning from the globe and standing before Helm. "Oh Lord of Vigilance, I have a request to put to you. Ao has placed you in charge of watching these mortals... but I feel that you have a been lax in your guardianship. By your own admission, there have been influences upon this little drama, and I feel as though my side of things had been... under-represented."

Helm stiffened, but did not move as Cyric continued, counting off the points on his long bony fingers. "Adalon the shield-dragon, Dianya the dryad-queen... too many forces of light have aided him along his way. The scales are not balanced, after all! I think it only fair that I be allowed to test this Bhaalspawn's mettle in my own way."

"Your words are cunning, but you have a forked tongue." Torm challenged him, shaking his head. "Any interference in the destiny of these mortals-"

"Was, as I pointed out to Dianya, still interference." Cyric snorted, shaking his head in disdain. "And people say that I twist words. You must agree, the forces of so-called darkness are owed some measure of compensation in this whelp's future, are we not?"

Cyric did not wait for a reply- he turned and strode back to the globe representing the Bhaal-plane- he took it between two fingers, then flicked it upwards where it suspended in mid-air, before zooming in upon the lower levels of the rocky behemoth. Five stairways descended from the main structure, and small bubbles of formless dark essence whirled where the challenge rooms, the arenas of Greywulf's mind would actually form. Two were already solidified- one filled with order and solid rock, the other with demonic eyes and figures that would chill the blood of any mortal. "Hmm… one of these would do nicely, I think. What say you, guardian god? Shall my request be granted? Surely I will not have to beseech Ao to allow me this right…"

Helm remained silent, the imposing, stoic figure remaining steady. That he had not stopped Cyric from touching the representation of the plane was enough evidence already- he was simply making up his own mind, solidifying what he, in his wisdom, knew was true. Without a word, Helm nodded, lowering his blade and nodding to Cyric. Mystra narrowed her eyes as the Lord of Lies grinned triumphantly, bowing to Helm enthusiastically before turning on his heel.

"Glad that's settled then- I should take some time to prepare, methinks. How to test this little godling… and stop glowering, Mystra. It doesn't suit you at all." Cyric's tone lowered from gleeful cheer to a dark, sinister growl. "Be seeing you… I hope you enjoy the show."

As Cyric vanished from sight, Torm turned to Mystra, the blazing fire in his eyes glowing even brighter. "Prepare your Chosen. If this interference grows to be too much-"

"It shall not. And you shall not interfere any further than has already been done." Helm cut Torm off, the two deities fixing one another with glares that would move mountains, but for these two gods, their wills were unshakeable. "I will monitor as I have been commanded. Cyric shall not overstep his bounds."

"I trust you, my friend, but that remains to be seen." Torm replied, gesturing to his shield-bearer as he strode back to Mystra, the goddess of magic and the god of justice leaving Helm's plane together.

As they strode through time and space, returning to their place in the heavens, Torm whispered to his fellow god, "It may yet prove to be another who takes the Throne for his own… but there is something about this mortal, this 'Greywulf'."

"I sense it as well…" Mystra nodded, eyes closing as she stretched out her senses, letting the power that indwelt her wrap around the sorcerer, testing his strength, feeling how deep his connection to her world went. "His mastery of magic is strong, and will only continue to grow. Those he travels with who also follow my guidance are equally powerful, if perhaps not as driven. It may be another... but I do not think so. He will be the one."

"Regardless, we will keep watch over the others- I have spoken with Tyr and Lathander. They maintain guard upon those other Bhaalspawn that yet live, though they tell me that Talos, Malar and even Ghaunadaur are also involved. I suppose it would not simply be Shar and Cyric who took an interest..." Torm sighed, before pausing, drawing a portal with his armored hands, a shimmering halo of light leading back to his own realm.

"Stay vigilant, Lord of Justice." Mystra nodded to him, drawing her robes tighter as magic swelled in the void and turned her form ethereal, fading away. "The powers of Bhaal will return to the pantheon soon. In what form though..."

As they parted ways, Torm glanced down at his shield bearer, the small yet radiant form of a man who stood at Torm's right hand at all times when venturing from his realm, guarding his glory and any who would dare blaspheme against his power. He cocked his head slightly, then spoke quietly. "Before you return to your reward, answer me this, my good and faithful servant. You know these men and women far better than any of the gods, save the dead Lord of Murder himself. Do you think that these wards of Gorion will win out against their kin? And if so, will they bring the power of Bhaal to heel, or let it consume them as it would all the rest?"

The smaller form paused, as if considering the query by his master. He reached up and removed the Helm of Glory he was wearing, revealing the shining features of the man that had been Keldorn Firecam on earth, now the Right Hand of Torm. He smiled, closing his eyes for a brief moment, then nodded. "They will succeed, my Lord. In spite of all the trials that come their way, these men and women will never give up. Not in the face of all the demons and hellspawn the mortal coil has to offer them."

X X X X X X

At last- for a brief moment, everything was still. The clamor and confusion that had gripped every single one of the men and women before him was quelled for the moment, though that did leave something of an uncomfortable silence. A silence that he would need to break- a silence he would need to fill with an argument convincing enough to ask these people he considered friends, to follow him into hell once more. One last time. Greywulf inhaled sharply, then spoke.

"Every one of you has fought at my side in the past. Every one of you has proven yourself to be a worthy companion at the very least, and I would hope, a friend. And I know that I've pulled you away from people, places, loved ones, all in the blink of an eye, and I have to beg your forgiveness for that. But if ever any of you felt any loyalty to me or Imoen... then we have need of you. This is the hour."

Nobody spoke, nobody tossed a rejoinder or a counter to his words. He might convince them yet. Imoen glanced at her brother, his eyes knit, trying to find the words. It wasn't like him, being unsure of how to speak. He had been good at leading his whole life, and he'd certainly had plenty of practice before, but this... this was something different. He was right- for all they knew, the people they'd summoned could've been at home with families, protecting loved ones from bandits, maybe just enjoying a well earned rest from their labors... but without any warning they'd been ripped from their lives and thrust into what was, for all intents and purposes, a plane of Hell. And they were being asked to fight for the ones who'd torn them away. Imoen bit her lip quietly and prayed Greywulf had the words to convince them.

"This isn't about just us, though. This is about all of Faerun. All of the lands and homes that I've ripped you from. The Bhaalspawn, my kin... they have fulfilled the prophecies of Alaundo. The rivers run red with the blood of innocents. But enough is enough. In all the lands, three remain. Three more of my kin, and we cannot fight them alone." Greywulf paused, looking back at those who had followed him for so long.

He had considered, for a time, that he had no right to put them in danger, to bring them with him on these suicide missions, throwing themselves against army after army, somehow coming out on top each time. How long could the odds favor them? When would their time be up? He didn't know, and he didn't want to know... but maybe, with these others at his side, he might be able to delay that moment a while yet.

"If any of you wish to leave, I will do my utmost to send you back to your families, to your homes, to your lives. I will not hold it against you. There is little hope for treasure or coin in the battles we're about to fight. All I can promise is a fierce enemy, and an honorable goal. For some of you, perhaps that is more than enough. For others, those words ring hollow, I know. But this is all we have to offer right now."

Minsc squeezed his fists tightly, nodding with approval at the words of his friend. Fighting for the good of all- it had always been enough for him. And his witch, of course. Others needed more incentives to cast their magics, or demanded more to wield their blades, but it had never been that complicated for the ranger. And right now, he wished all of those before him could see with the clarity he possessed. To fight, to die in the cause of something such as this... it would be a good death, if that was to be their fate. And if not... well then. The bards of Rashemen would sing such a tale the likes of which the Ice Dragon Lodge had never heard.

"I have little more to say, but I thank you for allowing me this much. If there are those who wish to leave, then speak now and I shall send you home..." Greywulf spoke, gesturing at the gateway, the portal maw that had all summoned them.

Nobody spoke for a time, each one glancing to the others as though gauging whether or not there would be those who turned down this request. Jaheira watched each one, her eyes flitting back and forth between faces, the gears of her mind turning as she calculated who would be the most likely to go, who would stay and help. It was true... they needed every bit of aid they could muster to fight this war. Three more Bhaalspawn with armies of their own, and the forces of Tethyr committed to their deaths as well- they had scarcely been so hunted in the past, even when facing down the might of the Shadow Thieves outside Beregost. They needed the help, but for all of Greywulf's persuasiveness… it was no small thing they needed. She wasn't even sure what adding these men and women would accomplish… she'd simply have to trust him. Luckily for her, she'd had some practice with that particular task.

Silence permeated the air- the only sound being that of breathing and the occasional unearthly screech from those unholy forces flying in the distance of this green-tinted sky. It would, of course, be the bard who broke the silence first, letting his speech lift the others, if not speak for them entirely. Haer'Dalis laughed aloud, then proceeded to clap slowly and deliberately, bowing once before Greywulf before extending a hand to the sorcerer. "Quite the speech, my raven. But your words, while worthy of a performance in the troupe of Raelis Shai herself, are unneeded. I will follow you wherever you lead, and if that stretches into the gates of Oblivion- well then, let us depart. It would be a most interesting journey, would it not? Life is a story simply waiting to be told, after all. I would not miss this one for the world."

Haer'Dalis glanced to the side, noting Aerie's troubled visage- he should have guessed that the elf would have been unsettled by his presence. After all, the last time they'd seen one another, he had kissed her, then trapped her in a Hold spell, then left the party to seek vengeance on the traitor Yoshimo before dying in battle. All in all, her feelings about seeing him again were probably… conflicted. "Ah, my mourning dove… I have missed your company."

That was it? That was all he had to say to her after… well, after everything that had happened? Aerie glared as hard as she could, putting every ounce of disdain into that stare. It did little to impact the tiefling's sly grin, but it felt good anyway. What Greywulf's plan was, bringing all of these old companions back… well, guessing what he had planned was pointless, usually because his plans were often borderline insane to begin with. But it certainly couldn't have anticipated the return of the presumed dead Haer'Dalis. This would be… interesting. And if the silver-tongued bard tried to flatter her with his charms again… well, she wasn't the starry-eyed rookie she'd been back then. The bard winked at her, and she felt her cheeks redden, despite all her attempts to remain justifiably peeved. Well, she didn't claim that a little flattery wasn't welcome, but the point remained.

"To leave after such a challenge would be a most ignoble thing- I would not hear of it, not while you have need of worthy companions to your cause." Anomen stated, stepping forward with clenched gauntlet to his chest and a bow. "There are things that I- perhaps I should say we- must attend to before I may be fully committed to your work, my friend... but if you can lend aid to me I shall repay it twice over."

Solaufein and Nalia exchanged a quick glance, then nodded in agreement, moving to position themselves aside Anomen. The drow elf's mind began to race, rapidly trying to place this new development- he had given up hope of re-uniting with the Bhaalspawn after a time, but it appeared fate had other plans in store for him. The attack on the grove of Letherel seemed like it had happened so long ago, now... and it sounded as though Greywulf and Imoen had their share of troubles as things stood. But if his blade could help turn drive his kin back to the Underdark and away from them... he allowed himself a faint smile. Just like old times then.

Cernd took the moment to step forward as well, his painted face resolute, strong, as willful and proud as ever. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath- his body shuddered a moment before he returned to them in spirit. "I sense the cries of Nature, even in this place, so far removed from our mother. I have felt the devastation that plagues this land for many months now- the druids of Trademeet have banded together to defend themselves, as more and more turn to Shadow magic to combat this assault on Nature. I had thought to remain with them, seeing no other way to maintain the balance... yet if you succeed, if you can end the bloodshed across Faerun... then perhaps I may have a role to play after all. I shall join the hunt alongside this pack, and may the spirits guide us through the veil and beyond."

Viconia remained the only one who had yet to speak- all eyes rested upon her for a moment, and, somewhat unlike her, she shied away from the attention. If anyone had taken care to notice, they would have seen the bits of straw and hay clinging to her robes, and the rope burns around her wrists. She curled her lip and snorted, quickly deflecting any direct inquiries towards her. "Really now? Another damnable crusade you seek aid for? Battling the vampires underneath Athkatla was not enough for your foolish idealism, it seems. I shall never understand you, jaluk."

"If you wish to be sent home, the portal is waiting..." Jaheira snorted, gesturing toward the open maw Greywulf was holding open, the gold-white mass of space-time swirling within.

Viconia paused, then folded her arms, seeming to withdraw even further into the black hood and cloak that covered the splint mail she wore beneath. "I shall stay, for a time. I thank Shar you did not summon that atrocious gnome Jansen to your side as well..."

Greywulf smiled, nodding to her, closing his fist as the portal he had been maintaining collapsed. The Pocket Plane was sealed once more... and it was time to plan. Sarevok nearly shook his head in disbelief- so the fool had done it again. Yanked five- no, six, warriors and wizards from their places and into a plane of Hell... and with a few words, a speech perhaps, their swords were Greywulf's to command. Sarevok had been a leader of men as well, back at the Iron Throne. Thousands had followed his command, but they were pathetic, fodder to be used and discarded in the end. Weaklings who meant nothing, barely qualifying as sentient beings themselves. Not like these- they were powerful, strong-willed. He'd ruled with an iron fist, but his brother commanded with a silver tongue. More questions, always more questions. The longer he stayed with Greywulf, the more he questioned just how the sorcerer had managed to make it all work. How he'd come this far, gained the loyalty of so many... and still he maintained this high road, this self-righteousness that held him back. It did hold him back, didn't it?

"Well that's it then..." the half-elf smiled, allowing himself to relax for a brief moment. The hard part was over with, or at least, what had seemed like the hard part. Finding the other three Bhaalspawn out there, dealing with the army of Tethyr on their tails... no trouble at all. Or at least, not with a few more resources on their side. He concentrated for a brief moment, summoning a large table with enough chairs to seat all of them from the rocky ground they stood upon. "Have a seat, everyone. I've got a lot to explain and a few ideas on how to make all of this play out. As I'm sure most of you know, my ideas don't usually end as well as I'd like, so I'm counting on all of you to figure out what I'm missing, how to make it better, and with any luck, we can all come out of this alive."

X X X X X X

"From your description of the assassins at Saradush, it would seem that the ones I faced in Letherel follow the same woman, this Sendai..."

"And do not forget the rumors of we have heard of dragons gathering in the south east, in the canyons east of Amkethran. It could simply be coincidence, but..."

"It has been some time, hasn't it? I have grown in power since we last crossed paths. Perhaps we should test ourselves at some point, yes? There was little time back at my Keep, but perhaps we might have the opportunity to match spells-"

"The Watcher's Keep is northwest of the ruins of Saradush, a few days journey on foot. With the power of your Pocket Plane, it should be a easy trek-"

"Reynald is undoubtedly wondering what became of us- we had just arrived. Hopefully he will wait and we can reunite once we are there-"

"-didn't think we'd get a chance to meet up again for a while. It's good to see you."

"Always a pleasure- it appears Nature has treated you well since our last meeting. You are looking much less… dead, this time, methinks."

"I doubt the General will simply wait by the oasis to trap us again. Still, unless we can find Melissan we will need a new route to locating the other members of the Five."

"Make another remark about my 'ebony skin and ivory hair', bard, and I will cut out your tongue-"

The commotion of the party was a divide between old reunions and planning their next moves. Anomen had spoken to Greywulf of their quest in Watcher's Keep... the sorcerer had listened, his mind calculating with the new condition thrown into the mix. This was not something he had anticipated originally... but perhaps it might still work. Greywulf had half-retreated from the conversation, promising to consider Anomen's request, but it had to be weighed against their existing priorities. He eyed each person in turn, considering at their strengths, their weaknesses, their abilities. A party of six was one thing- that he could lead. Thirteen, once Reynald was back among them? This could be... difficult.

Greywulf excused himself from the group for a moment while the remainder continued to talk, striding back to the portal maw, attempting to exert his will over this place again- a portal flickered in and out of existence, and he began to focus on Reynald, trying to find the ex-paladin's presence, his form-

"Careful, brother. You wouldn't want to leave one of these stranded in time and space, would you? Give yourself time to rest- bringing six here all at once was... ill-advised, I think."

Sarevok's gruff tones took the sorcerer by surprise- he relaxed for a moment, then nodded and let the portal collapse on itself. "Point taken. Though you might've warned me about that beforehand..."

The Deathbringer cocked his head to one side for a moment, snorting with a hint of ridicule. "You did not ask, as I recall. In fact, our last words spoken to one another were of quite mutual hatred, I think. I am glad that this forced partnership has not quelled our mutual emnity. Such a rivalry is not something to be thrown aside so easily. It should be... savored."

"You're one sick son of a bitch, you know that?" Greywulf replied easily, taking a moment to see whether a bruise was forming where he had punched Sarevok earlier. "Hmm. I was hoping that shot I took at you would show more."

"Please." Sarevok laughed unkindly. "Imoen struck me harder than you. I'm surprised you didn't break your hand."

The sorcerer shrugged, taking the blow to his pride without any rejoinder because quite frankly... punching Sarevok had hurt like hell. For a moment he'd thought there might have been a broken knuckle or two. "I have to admit, I'm surprised you're so... talkative, or calm, after what happened a few hours ago. Didn't think we'd be on speaking terms for another day at least."

"I am not quite so petty as you imagine." Sarevok noted, leaning against the rocky walls that encircled the Plane, watching the others at the round table Greywulf had summoned. "To reach the heights of the Iron Throne, I learned how to play politics and I learned it well. There are times when taking offense is simply... inconvenient, for all involved."

"Is that right?" Greywulf asked, arching one eyebrow with dubiousness. "And... my refusal to conform to your idea of what a power hungry despot should be isn't throwing a wrench in those plans of yours to gain power, is that what I'm hearing? Not sure whether or not I should be worried..."

"Hnh." Sarevok grunted- or was it a small laugh? He glared at Greywulf, a smile creeping onto the corners of his mouth. "Believe me, you will know when you should be worried. It will be right about the time when my blade enters your innards."

"Right. Lovely." the half-elf snorted. "As fulfilling as this conversation has been, was there something you needed? Still trying to plan here..."

"I'm not surprised. You have always limited your scope of companions in the past... something I have wondered about, in fact. Five, I think, if I remember correctly from my spies leading up to our clash beneath Baldur's Gate. Here again, you keep five close at hand, though from the willingness of these to join your cause, you could have held a small army at your disposal for some time now."

"Yeah, well you can see how well I'm doing trying to organize this many people." Greywulf frowned, muttering to himself as he let his mind wander back to his calculations despite Sarevok's presence beside him. "Three groups, one for a distraction, one to take care of Anomen's problem, one to handle one of the members of the Five-"

"You actually plan on appeasing that foolish squire? Surely you jest. We have no time for such a useless detour. Watcher's Keep... it is an abandoned tower that the gods have done far too much meddling in. In my studies I heard tales of powerful magical items located within... guarded by the fiercest of creatures. When we stand at the precipice of destiny, risking our lives against such danger is a risk we cannot afford to take." Sarevok curled his lip in disgust. "If he cannot help us without demanding something in return, then send him on his way. We have no need for excess baggage at this stage of our war."

"Yeah. Well, that's one way to go, but since between the two of us, I'm the one who hasn't had to be resurrected, I think I'll take my own counsel on how I handle my companions." Greywulf replied easily, then returned to counting.

Sarevok rolled his eyes, then studied Greywulf a moment longer before speaking again. "You did not answer my question, I note."

"Didn't realize you wanted one." The sorcerer thought for a moment, then nodded as he figured out what Sarevok had been asking. "Why I limit my companions? Hmm. I mean, it's not like I haven't called upon others for larger operations. Attacking Bodhi's lair, what we're doing right now..."

He paused, then frowned. "They're my responsibility. They'd deny it, and to a point, it's true- they're all capable of handling themselves, and probably the group itself better than me. But they're family too... and with this life, death is never far behind. If they're willing to risk themselves for me, I won't stop them... but I'll never ask them to do it, either."

There was silence between the two for a moment longer, before Sarevok shook his head, pushing away from the wall where he'd been leaning. "I will never understand your thoughts, brother. Still, it is as you say. You have survived this long, I have... not. Proceed with whatever plans you see fit."

Greywulf watched him walk away- something had changed in Sarevok. His taunts, his threats... all of that was still there, but he wasn't the same force of corruption he'd attempted to be before. Somehow, Greywulf wasn't sure if that made him more or less dangerous. Still, so long as he continued to prove useful, continued to help- or at least, not actively hinder, them... and as long as Jaheira didn't impale him. Or as long as Aerie didn't disintegrate him. In fact, perhaps it would be best if he was split from them for a time... Greywulf divided them mentally, then smiled as he felt the pieces begin to fall into place. This would be tricky to pull off... but if Sarevok went with her... and Haer'Dalis could masquerade as anyone, with his acting skills... while Viconia's abilities as a cleric would make her useful alongside that one... and those two would work very well together, if push came to shove. Yes.

Greywulf pushed himself off the wall, preparing to return to the group- a sound like thousands of bees buzzing through a sealed glass cage filled his head, the shock of it nearly driving him to his knees- he clenched his teeth, forcing himself to concentrate- there. The sound was filtering down, becoming bearable, becoming audible... a voice? Yes, it was becoming a voice, a familiar one...

"Greywulf, can you hear me? This is Melissan... you are within your pocket dimension, yes? Listen closely, I haven't much time. The forces of General Tombelthen are pursuing me, but I promised you a path to the rest of the Five, and I intend to keep my bargain. Speak with the monk Balthazar in Amkethran- the path to his monastery goes through the desert, due east from the oasis I sent you to. He will direct you to your enemies. I must retreat- they will find me soon if I do not continue my retreat. I will contact you again…"

The echoing voice ripped itself from Greywulf's head like he was emerging from a pool of water, as though he could breathe again. The others hadn't noticed his sudden communication- and to be fair, he wasn't sure how he could even explain it. He'd cast long range mental attachment spells in the past, but it had required an item of some kind, to link the caster with the recipient. He hadn't given her any such thing, had he? How had Tombelthen's forces found her? Had she sold them out to the General, was that why they'd been ambushed at the oasis?

He inhaled sharply, clearing his mind. Melissan was more than she appeared, that much was certain. A dubious ally at best, plotting their betrayal at worst. And if she could contact him so easily, here in his Pocket Plane... no, something was not right with their so-called ally. A mystery to unravel, or at least, once they'd taken care of the other Bhaalspawn. He could only hope that turning their back on her for the time being wouldn't end up being their downfall later.

He forced a smile onto his face, then strode to the table, planting both hands on it as the others glanced his way, quieting down a bit. "So, fearless leader, do we have a plan to coordinate this madness?" Viconia smirked, resting her chin on one palm as she gestured to the rest of the group with her other hand.

He couldn't help but grin a bit wider. "That we do. We all have a role to play... and thanks to a bit of information I just picked up, we all have a target too. Take some rest, gather your equipment, and let's all be ready to split up in a few hours. Three teams, three targets."

"So we will be handling the situation at Watcher's Keep after all, then? I wish to aid you in whatever ventures await, but I fear that for me, my mission for the Order must take precedence." Anomen inquired, relief flooding his features as Greywulf nodded, affirming the squire's hopes.

"If that's what it takes to get you on board, then we'll make the time, don't worry. Let's just hope Reynald hasn't run off by the time we get down there. Time flows... strangely, in this place. He should still be there. I hope."

X X X X X X

The initial madness of the influx of warriors and old friends had quieted down- after a thorough amount of disbelief, skepticism, and arguing about the plan, all had eventually agreed on it, and divided into the teams for their respective missions. Some of those men and women tasked to travel alongside one another had never done so before- it would be an interesting experience, to say the least. Those who were unfamiliar were, to their credit, trying to take a few moments to at least acquaint themselves with their new traveling partners. Which was good strategy, truth be told. It would be rather embarrassing to travel alongside a mage fond of the Sunfire spell and forget to duck when he or she began the incantations. Or in the case of one particular ranger that happened to be with them, neglect the fact that he had a tendency to slip into berserker rages every now and then and prepare to... well, again, duck.

Luckily for Nalia, she had already traveled with all of her companions, not that it mattered much to her. She was leaning against the encircling shards of rock around the platform, waiting impatiently. Her leather boot tapped and tapped, a small token of her unhappiness at being forced to wait for the others. She hadn't left De'Arnise Keep lightly- the promise of the power that Watcher's Keep offered was enough to draw her into this quest, but that didn't mean she liked leaving her home, her people.

She brushed her dirty blonde hair away from her face for a moment, sighing in what was a most un-lady like huff. Her companions for the task ahead had changed ever so slightly- Greywulf had replaced Solaufein, giving them two capable fighters in Anomen and Reynald and two magic users in her and the half-elf sorcerer. It would be good to have the Bhaalspawn fighting with them- she had witnessed his power first-hand several times, all when defending her home. It was not a debt she carried lightly, knowing how much she owed to those who had sacrificed to free the De'Arnise lands from Firkraag the Red. She had every intention of making good on that debt- whatever aid the Bhaalspawn needed from her would be there for the asking... and the power she could lend would only be greater after this expedition.

"Ho, little Nalia! Minsc is pleased to see you again, eh? It has been some long time since we feasted at your table!"

The jovial tones of the Rashemani ranger shook her from her introspection, Nalia smiling despite herself as the ranger rested one hand on her shoulder with a grin. "Minsc, it is good to see you alive and well. How have you been? Keeping out of trouble, I trust?"

The ranger threw his head back and laughed, his broad shoulders shaking with mirth. "Minsc and Boo do not stay out of trouble, we wade into trouble with a sword! And then once we are waist deep, we splash and frolic about until trouble no longer stains others with its dirty, murky depths! And how about you, eh? Has the gate that Minsc built stood firm against any more evil little orcs?"

Nalia smiled, thinking of the solid oak gate that the ranger had built himself, his own name carved rather messily on one of the logs comprising it. True to his word, it was a stout piece of construction, and had served to guard the entrance to the keep rather well. She nodded gracefully, taking the man's enthusiasm in stride. "It has, Minsc. I still owe you and the others a debt of gratitude for helping retake my home."

"We were simply glad to help- and a dragon to fight! We should be thanking you for that opportunity, yes? We will have tales to tell when we return home to Rashemen. Although that is perhaps a long time away." Minsc paused, considering his words. "And while we hope that Minsc and Boo and Aerie can go there soon... eh, perhaps we may not."

"Really? I had thought you would return to your homeland soon after restoring the souls of your friends." Nalia remarked, trying to remember the events that had taken place just scant months ago. It seemed like so much longer, now.

"No... no, Minsc and Boo could not leave, not just yet. Not while we are still needed to fight the good fight with our friends, eh?" Minsc laughed, but it was obvious the usual joviality was almost.. forced.

Nalia frowned, this sudden change of attitude quite unlike the ranger, or at least unlike how she had seen him the amount of time she'd spent in his company. "Minsc? Is something troubling you?"

For the first time since they had spoke, or really since Nalia had met the big man, he looked uncertain. His tone lowered and his smile turned serious, the ranger voicing his concerns to her. "With all that is going on, Minsc has been having a little trouble keeping his feet on the ground."

"What kind of trouble?" Nalia asked, unsure of why the ranger would come to her with his problems. Aerie was his so-called witch, he had traveled with the others for so much longer than her... but then she realized, looking at him. He didn't care. To him, she was just another friend, fighting for justice, as he would put it. There were few barriers, only strong bonds forged in battle. His way of looking at things was so much more black and white, so much easier. Much like she had been, once upon a time...

"Well, with all this talk of gods, where will Minsc and Boo fit in?" he pondered, glancing upwards into the dispassionate green swirling void. "Swords have little effect on the heavens. Even magical swords like the one Minsc carries. And it is a very good sword, believe me!"

"Minsc, nothing can withstand the might of your righteous fury." Nalia said with a smile, unable to try to change the ranger, or explain to him that in many ways, he was right. It was what she had learned, that for all her noble intentions and for all the help she'd given to the poor of her land, sometimes the direct path, the simple route just wasn't enough.

"Nothing that *stands* can withstand it, but floaty specters of evil gods incarnate may as well be made of the hot air they spew." the ranger sighed. "But I have spoken to others about this, like Imoen. She has told me that it is all about belief, and whether or not Minsc believes he can kick their tails. I *believe* that I can stick a thumb in the eye of evil no matter what head it is moored to. Perhaps that is enough. We shall have to see. Thank you for listening, little Nalia. I look forward to when we can fight side by side once more!"

Nalia nodded and smiled as the ever-addled ranger took his leave, no doubt returning to his charge, the elf mage seated beside Imoen as the two talked and swapped a few stories. Minsc's nature, his tone was far too reminiscent of what she had once been like. So idealistic, so naïve. But strangely compelling... the ability to boil everything down to a simple equation, good or evil, right or wrong. For people like her, it just wasn't possible. But alone with her thoughts, Minsc's words echoing in her mind... she wished it still was.

On the other side of the Pocket Plane, Greywulf's eyes fluttered, taking a brief, few hours of rest while they still had the time, propped up on top of a bedroll with Jaheira lying at his side. Splitting up had not been a decision she had been particularly happy about... but in the end, they'd made it work. She was more protective of him now than ever, and he of her... but to make their plan work, the divide had to be in place.

"Mmpph... how long's it been...?"

"Just an hour or two." she replied quietly, "We have a while yet should you wish to rest longer."

He elbowed himself up to a fully seated position, running a hand across his face to clear the cobwebs. "I probably shouldn't. Everyone's impatient to get started, I think. It's a little easier when you don't know what's coming, but preparing for something like this..."

"Imoen and the others can handle themselves well enough without us. Solaufein is... protective of her. Sarevok will not try anything foolish with the drow guarding her." Jaheira said, although she would not put anything past the Deathbringer. "They will draw Jamis' army quite easily, once word of her and Sarevok's travels get out. I admit, the idea of using Haer'Dalis to masquerade as you? I'm impressed, whelp."

"I have my moments." he said with a hint of smug satisfaction. "Imoen, Sarevok, Solaufein and Haer'Dalis lead the army of Tethyr on a merry chase, while Minsc, Aerie, you and Cernd head to Amkethran and find out who this 'Sendai' is that's been sending assassins after us. All the while, Anomen, Reynald, Nalia and myself head to Watcher's Keep, conveniently out of the way of anywhere Tombelthen will be searching. Until word spreads that we were in the area of course. The General won't know where to look once we're through."

"Perhaps... though I still wish I was accompanying you." she grumbled, stifling a yawn. He noticed, frowning at her.

"Did you get any rest? Tell me you weren't staying up watching Sarevok in case he decided that now would be the best time to murder us all in our sleep..."

She glared and elbowed him gently for the comment, but shook her head, her eyes drifting to stare at the rocky ground they were seated on. "No... sleep simply did not come easily for me. Perhaps we did not have the time register what we had seen, back at Saradush... but I can remember the devastation all too clearly, now. So many lives lost, all for... what? I am troubled, Greywulf... I hope I am not alone in this."

"You aren't..." he murmured, although the somber tone in Jaheira's voice was far deeper than anything he felt. Was it simply that he had grown use to the carnage that his blood caused? The Slayer's influence, guiding him along a path of blood? Whatever it was... he'd promised to be more open. To let the others know what kind of path he was following, and where it would lead. They could keep him on the straight and narrow... or at least, he hoped they could. "I admit, I do not feel the grief, the shock that I had thought I would. Maybe that you feel right now- I have sympathy for those hurt because of who I am, but... little else."

His admission did not startle Jaheira as much as he had thought it might- whether that was good or bad, he hadn't decided. She remained silent for a moment, then gazed at his features, elven ears quivering gently. "I worry for you. You seem distant, when the carnage is so real, so near. I know you worry for others, but I hope you are not immune to the pain yourself. Greywulf, please do not lose yourself. You care about your fellow beings, about me. I do not know if the gods have such feelings... we are so small to them."

His initial intent was to comfort, to remind her that he had everything under control... but that was what had almost led him to his fall, hadn't it? Thinking he could carry the weight of his taint without any sort of help, without any consequence. Sarevok had goaded him into it, slowly, subtly. He needed to be honest with her. They would be separated for a time... and the possibility existed, one of them could die. That thought was always there, always just around the corner. Honesty... and honesty wasn't always easy. "I know... and I know why you worry for me. The power is enticing... it calls to me each day, each battle. When I think about using it, I imagine how much good could be done with it, how I could change the grand scheme of things so easily."

"And the small things? Will they simply... work themselves out?" Jaheira smiled, but it was sad, accepting his attempts to be straight with her, but it was made no less difficult, in the end. "It is... it is possible that by the end of this you will become a god yourself. What kind of role would that take you into? An avenging solar, or a marauding demon? Neither is a creature of balance. Neither is anchored in the world of mortals. Please, give thought to your actions while we are apart. I do not want to lose you to this beast you carry within. Be careful."

She quieted, her worries settling within, and he knew that there was little he could say to quell them. He nodded, letting her head rest on his shoulder as they sat together in silence for a little longer. Just a few minutes more, a few moments to enjoy the calm before the storm. A god, and all the power to decide his fate for eternity... or a mortal, struggling and fighting and dying beside the family he'd made here on earth. It would be one hell of a choice to make, given the opportunity in the end. One hell of a choice.

X X X X X X

Reynald sucked air greedily as he climbed the steps leading to the top of Watcher's Keep, a massive obelisk that stretched high into the air, massive in size and scope, shining in the distance to anyone who approached. The base of the tower was buried deep under ground, and the gigantic scale of the construct spoke to how intricate the insides must have been.

The outer shell was comprised of marble, smooth walls with rough trim that had grown moss and vines upon it over the ages. The stairway leading from the ground to the top of the tower was a steep climb, but Reynald refused to relent. Not until he knew where his companions were, where they had been spirited off to. He ran through the events of a few hours ago through his head once more- the four of them had just risen to the top of a hill that allowed them visibility over the next few miles- and there, in the distance, was the mighty Watcher's Keep, finally visible after such a long trek. The sight was... electric, if he could describe it in any way. Somehow, just seeing it raised a feeling of anticipation and dread in equal parts- a strange bit of unease for someone who had been involved in so many battles in the past.

And then, as though the sight of the tower had been a signal or a trigger, blinding light and shone all around, nearly blinding the former paladin with its intensity. He had called out, hearing shouts from his companions- and when the light vanished, they were gone, leaving small semicircles in the ground where they had been standing, smoking with the power and magic that had taken them.

Watcher's Keep was still mostly a mystery to Reynald- all he had known was what Anomen had told them before departing upon this quest- some sort of Imprisoned One lurked inside, and the seals binding it needed renewal. The Knights of the Vigil, eternal guardians of the Keep had somehow failed in their duties and needed aid... and that in itself should have told him this situation was more dire than anything he had imagined prior.

He pushed himself up another score of stairs, trying to keep his wind as he drove higher and higher. Gods, climbing stairs in plate mail was not the best plan he'd ever had. But if there was any chance at finding his friends... the Keep was the best place to start looking. He had seen lit torches and small figures upon the apex of the tower, at the entrance to the tower above. Knights of the Vigil, perhaps? Eternal defenders of this mysterious keep, beholden to no man except the will of Helm. Their sense of devotion shamed him, but he pushed the thoughts away. There was no time to wallow in self-pity or mourn his lost honor. He had long since made peace- or at least tried to- with the fact that he had been drummed out of the Order for his inability to maintain his vows. There was nothing to be done about it; a fallen paladin was never welcome back in the Order, no matter what kind of reconciliation was done.

Anomen was not yet a full fledged knight... nor had he fallen away from the service. When Anomen had confronted him months ago, in bitterness, alone and hearing naught but the spiteful words that the arrogant squire had spoken to him, he had jealously wished for the Delryn warrior to befall the same fate as he, to understand the misery he had felt upon realizing how far that fall could be. Now... Anomen was a changed man, humbled by his experiences and by the example of others. Reynald had changed as well, and could only hope that his presence might serve as a reminder to Anomen of what could happen to him, should he allow it. Perhaps he might yet serve the Order in some small way, if only that.

He kept moving, kept pushing past pillars and stone tablets embedded upon the stairwell sides. In every one of them was a mention of The Imprisoned One, and each tablet had the seal of Helm emblazoned upon it. The frequency of these inscriptions and the symbols was so great, it would not be possible for any save a blind man to reach the top without knowing the purpose of this obelisk and which deity had sealed it closed in the first place... which did nothing to ease Reynald's mind. What kind of beast had Helm sealed away so fiercely, had gone to such lengths to warn intruders about? He finally crossed the threshold, the archway guarding the final passage to the large rectangular roof of the tower, where three knights watched and waited, each one turning to gaze upon the new arrival with a mixture of trepidation and relief. One of them stood, a bearded man with wide eyes, clad in grey mail and wearing a the Hand of Helm upon his breastplate. The wrinkles and scars on his face showed the sign of years spent in battle- he smiled and approached Reynald, pounding one gauntlet to his chest in salutation.

"Praise be to Helm, for answering our prayers of salvation! You are a member of the Radiant Heart, yes? Our please have not gone unheard then."

"I..." the question stung, though Reynald knew no offense could have been meant by it. "Sort of... though the story would take far too long to explain, methinks. You are members of the Knights of the Vigil, yes? My companions and are embarked on a quest from the Order to seek this place out and aid you in whatever mission you would have of us."

"Then you are a most welcome sight. I am Brother Odren, and behind me you will see Sister Garlena and Brother Pol. We are, unfortunately, all that remains of the Knights of the Vigil." the older man grimaced. "It is to our shame that our order has been reduced to this... but we must not fail in our calling."

"Aye... I know something of a devotion to a calling, and the consequences of coming up short to one's vows." he spoke carefully and quietly, nodding to the other two knights in turn. "I am Reynald de Chatillon, though I had hoped you might be able to tell me something of where my companions had disappeared to. When we rose atop the hill that allowed us view of the Keep proper, they vanished in brilliant magics. Was that the Keep's doing?"

Odren frowned, shaking his head slowly, his brow knit. "I... do not think so. Although the Imprisoned One does indeed stir in his slumber below, I do not think he has regained such a measure of power to which you speak. We should seek out those companions you brought with you- you will surely need them to assail the vaults and traps below."

"Hold, friend... we do not even know the task to which we are assigned." Reynald raised a hand. "And if you are to explain, I should like to have the others here as well-"

A thunderclap echoed all around them as a tear in the void appeared among them, splitting reality itself. Three figures emerged from the tear, flickering in and out of the maw of nothingness until they regained their solid form, becoming flesh and bone again in the mortal plane. Greywulf blinked once, glancing upwards, smiling at the sight of blue sky, white clouds, and the distinct sound of birds and trees rustling in the breeze. Much better than green sky, black clouds, and the howls of demons.

"By the gods, my friends! You return- what happened?" Reynald exclaimed, rushing to them as the Knights of the Vigil leapt from their posts, rushing to see the newcomers as well. "You vanished as though whisked from this plane by a djinni- and now you return in the same fashion. What sorcery befell you? I-"

"All in good time, Reynald- it does me good to see you still here. We had hoped to return before you assaulted the Keep without us." Anomen met the man in a brotherly embrace. "As you can see, Lady Nalia returns with us, although Solaufein has left to seek a different path. In his place Greywulf of Candlekeep joins us instead. I am sure you remember him..."

"Are we to assume these are the fellows you had lost?" Odren interrupted, his blade half-drawn as he watched the reunion with uncertainty. "I would know if they are allies to be welcomed or denizens of that plane they emerged from- the screams echoing from within..."

"Yeah... sorry about that." Greywulf winced, rubbing the back of his neck. I wouldn't call us denizens of the hells... not exactly. I'll explain later... I actually have something of a favor to ask, once we get started. But rest assured, we are here to help though- Anomen's the leader of this particular expedition though. Squire?"

"Aye. I'm not sure what Reynald has spoken to you of yet, but we are from the Radiant Heart, answering your call for aid. The Prelate himself gave me this task to fulfill- by Helm, we shall see it through. Tell us, what can be done to aid such a worthy sect?"

"Er... very well then, squire... Anomen, was it?" Odren cleared his throat, glancing at the locked vault door enshrined behind them. " As you know, we are...a small sect that was given a most solemn charge by the Vigilant One, Helm, Himself."

"A charge we are unable to fulfill, sadly," the robed woman behind Odren added, a great sadness in her weathered features. How long had these men and women been guarding this tomb, the party wondered?

"I had heard of your Order before this quest, but little details." said Anomen.. "If you are unable to do as Helm has asked... that must be a cause for great sadness and concern, I would imagine. The god of Duty asks much of His followers."

"Indeed," Odren replied. "Helm appeared to us during the Time of Troubles, when all gods but He walked Faerun as mortals. A great evil had been imprisoned, he said, and we were to be its keepers. Watcher's Keep, this ruin you see before you, was once a great prison for the most terrible foes of the gods. It was abandoned for many, many centuries until Helm came to us with His news. The old prison would not hold this great evil for long, He said. Our order would have to maintain a vigil, to watch for the day when the evil would begin to break the great seals and escape."

"And... I presume that the day you speak of has come?" Greywulf asked.

"Aye." Odren nodded. "The great evil struggles within, and has infected the Watcher's Keep to the point where we cannot bypass the creatures and foul magic that blocks our path."

"A simple enough task, if unpleasant." Nalia frowned. "Enter this dungeon and dispose of the beasts in our path. Your order could not accomplish this?"

If the insinuation of weakness in their ranks bothered the Knights of the Vigil, they did not show it. Brother Pol, who looked to be the eldest of the three, spoke up, his gray and wizened features sad but gentle. "We... are not the Order we once were. Where once our ranks were composed of dozens, we are but three now. Many knights gave their lives defending this place from looters, treasure hunters who wanted the magics and relics located inside, uncaring of the dangers lurking within, or the risk of releasing the Imprisoned One."

"Bah- defilers and thieves." Anomen spat, righteous indignation in his voice at the thought. "And through their interference they have opened possibilities that should never have been. It grieves me to see a proud order such as your own in this state."

"It is our shame that we are too weak to get to the lower vaults and enact the ritual that will strengthen the old seals once again." Odren sighed, but hope glimmered within his eyes as he looked upon the four that stood before them. "Our need is obvious- we require a group to enter the Keep and descend to the lower vault so they may repair the mystic seals. When completed, the Imprisoned One will be forced into captivity once more, and our duty shall be fulfilled."

"I admit, I am curious as to the nature of this beast." Reynald frowned, glancing at the tower itself, the structure, the power it had been created to withstand from within. "What can you tell us of the monster guarded so well below?"

Sister Garlena shook her head, clutching her hands together. "There is little enough we can say that you cannot discover by reading the tablets upon the sides of the Keep. Perhaps there may be more clues to be found inside Watcher's Keep itself, but Helm only called it the 'Imprisoned One', saying it was a being of great cunning and power. Enough so that Helm himself was forced to deal with its presence."

"Interesting," commented Nalia, her eyes narrowing as she listened. "A god was forced to deal with your Imprisoned One? No ordinary apparition, this."

"There were five seals upon the final tomb that held the Imprisoned One below." Pol recited, gesturing towards a stone tablet embedded in the side of the archway they stood below. "One by one, they have faltered under the weight of time and the power of the beast below. Were we able to reach that vault, we might have repaired them as they weakened, but... it has been years since any of our members set foot in the lower levels of the Keep."

"And how did the Keep grow to be such a haven for traps and monsters? Did Helm place them inside as guardians when he created this place?" Greywulf inquired.

"Some of them... there are those inside who guard the way to prevent intruders... or perhaps to prevent escape." Odren murmured. "But many of the monsters lurking inside are no friend to the god of Duty- we cannot know for certain, but I fear that perhaps... perhaps the Imprisoned One summoned them, to keep us from reaching him as he broke free of his wards."

"Or worse yet, that his mere presence upon this mortal plane attracts creatures of evil to him." Garlena added, shaking her head. "We do not know which would be the worse possibility, truly."

"Here, the holy symbol of Helm." Odren reached into the robes hanging loosely outside his plate mail and handed Anomen a circular disk, the picture of a gauntlet with an eye in the middle inscribed upon it. Anomen felt the tips of his fingers tingle through his gauntlet as he touched it- the divine power indwelt within the magical item was apparent to all nearby. "This symbol will allow you passage through the entry of the tomb, but more importantly, it will also grant you passage to leave. Many a would-be bandit or robber tried to sneak past our guard into the temple in years past, but those who managed to get past our guard never left. Without this seal, they were unable. A troubling fate, but a just one for those who would defy the will of Helm."

"So why guard this place so fiercely, if they could never leave?" Greywulf asked with a frown. "Unless... the Imprisoned One-"

"Yes, that was our fear." Odren nodded. "Helm spoke of this creature's wisdom, his intelligence. If some managed to reach the inner sanctum, converse with this bound creature, would it be possible that it could use its power to allow them to leave? To breach Helm's wards enough for them, but not itself? Perhaps. We did not know. The power of our Lord is mighty, but even his strength can fade over time."

Greywulf glanced at Anomen- both knew what the other was thinking. What of Greywulf's ability to access the Pocket Plane? Would it too be denied him once they entered this most mysterious of dungeons? "I see... interesting. We shall keep the symbol well in hand then- being trapped inside Watcher's Keep for all time wasn't exactly what I'd intended when I talked about losing Tombelthen's army."

"The second item you will need to reverse the damage done to the wards below is the ritual scroll that will unleash the power of Helm upon the seals binding the Imprisoned One to his tomb." Pol stated, handing Greywulf the scroll, a wax seal keeping the weathered parchment closed. "You look to have the training of a wizard- it should be no issue for you, but theoretically anyone could read aloud the words inscribed within and unleash Helm's seal. It only needs be read in the presence of the Imprisoned One and all will be complete. The issue will, of course, be reaching the Imprisoned One himself."

"The Keep was originally built for the purpose of entombing horrors that were too powerful to be set free upon the land- it had been abandoned for several centuries before Helm restored it's purpose. When trapping the Imprisoned One to begin with, he asked half our Order to sacrifice themselves, to become spirits guarding the Keep and adding to the ancient seals that were already in existence. The spirits will guard against all who enter...they cannot be reasoned with. Add to this the evil which has infected this place... your journeys will not be easy. I can only imagine the horrors you will face to realize the fulfillment of this task. When you finally reach the lowest level, you must open the final seal to gain access to the Imprisoned One, himself. I...do not know what state he will be in. Read the ritual quickly before he attacks."

Anomen nodded, tucking the holy symbol of Helm into his pack as he checked his gear one last time before they began their sojourn into the depths below. "What of logistics? The Keep itself, can you tell us anything of its layout? Where we might find rooms to take rest, or traps to watch for?"

"I believe there are five separate levels within the Keep, the fifth of which is the lower vault that allows access to the Imprisoned One, himself." Pol replied, crossing his arms beneath his robes." Each will have a seal that prevents access to the next level. I know little of what manner of seals are in place, however, nor how they might be overcome. They are meant to prevent simple access, however, so unlocking the seals will not be simple."

"Fair enough... although there has been a question bothering me since we started this, if you don't mind me asking." Greywulf grimaced, fixing Odren with a stare. "You've been very helpful... but we still don't know just what this thing actually *is*. Or why we even have to bother with sealing it up again- why can't we simply kill this Imprisoned One and be done with it all?"

Odren's eyes widened and he shook his head wildly, raising both hands in protest. "Oh, no no! The Imprisoned One must not be killed! Helm has strictly forbidden us from even attempting to slay the beast... if, indeed, it even can be killed to begin with. Perhaps death, too, would be a form of freedom?"

"Which would suggest that this thing isn't really from around here." the half-elf rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head. "I have a bad feeling about this..."

"Perhaps, but it is too late to turn back now." Anomen replied firmly, giving no chance to deny their task. "Brother Odren, you have my word that we will complete this task. This day shall be remembered as the day when the Order of the Radiant Heart stood alongside the Knights of the Vigil and overcame whatever evil waits below!"

"May Helm go with you then, brother." Odren smiled sadly, resting one hand on Anomen's pauldron, before glancing at Greywulf inquisitively. "Though if I might, perhaps you may return the favor to me, lad. A question for a question. I sense the power that summoned you and your fellows to Reynald's side came from you. Just what kind of magics were those- who are you?"

Greywulf gave his companions a sideways glance- telling the Knights of the Vigil of Greywulf's heritage had been part of the plan, although they'd anticipated telling them after their task was done. Getting the Knights to spread some word of their presence at the Keep would be just one more rumor for General Jamis to check out, and if they arrived long after the group was gone, then it would buy the others more time to find the remaining members of the Five. Telling them now though? A risk, if nothing else.

He sighed, weighing the chances of what might happen- they were desperate men and women. And Helmites took their duties as seriously as anyone- turning away help to fulfill those duties would be unlike them. Besides, if all else failed... they still had the Pocket Plane to retreat to... or at least, while outside the Watcher's Keep. "A fair question, after what you just saw. I suppose I should explain. I'm sure you've heard of the Bhaalspawn crisis..."

X X X X X X

The Throne of Bhaal hummed with power, the souls and essence of those slain Children of the dead god swirling in a whirlpool of dark energy. High above it, Amelyssan surveyed the limits of her realm, watching the portions over which she could feel her control grow flex and warp according to her wishes. It was still difficult, exerting full influence over some of the more... stubborn parts. The Realm of Murder had fallen into disarray upon the death of Bhaal, and much of his realm had been claimed by other pretenders, usurpers to the Throne.

Cyric had, of course, taken over the portfolio of Murder itself, though he had been content to let the realm of Bhaal rot. His Land of Lies was more suited to the god's crafty ways, but at least it left Amelyssan something to do, a way to pass the time as she let her little game play its way to completion. Speaking of which- it was just about time she let her monk know what was headed his way.

She grimaced, allowing herself to float down to the solid ring that encircled the essence-accumulator stretching across the void. With the smallest hint of effort, her fiery red hair shortened and darkened to the dull brown color she wore when posing as this mortal benefactor, Melissan. Her armor vanished and the world around her brightened, grew rock and stone and life as the essence of reality changed to suit her needs. Within moments a portion of the Throne looked as though it was any countryside on the face of Faerun, a monotonous piece of landscape, completely forgettable in every way. She drew one long finger in an oval, trailing fire and dark orange energy behind it, until it blazed open into a portal that slowly shimmered into a portrait of the monastery of Amkethran.

Melissan flicked the portal and it rippled like the face of a pool of water, the echo reverberating through space-time until it centered in upon the ring that she had gifted Balthazar with- he would know she yet lived, and desired to speak with him. His magics would connect the two in moments- it gave her a few brief seconds to decide how to further mislead the idealistic fool, if nothing else. She could be patient, when she had to be. As time passed on, her face passed from a smirk to a scowl, the wait gnawing on her nerves. She *could* be patient... it didn't mean she liked to be. This was all unnecessary... the planning, playing the Bhaalspawn off one another, every bit of it was a waste of time. She was the one who had been siphoning the powers of the dead god, her! Amelyssan the Black-hearted, high priestess of Bhaal! Only she could command this plane so easily, and were she to choose to do so, she could wage war on all the remaining god-children and wipe them from the face of Faerun herself. It would be easy...

The portal cleared and Balthazar's face appeared in the mists, his lips pressed tight but betraying a touch of relief at seeing her despite himself. "I see you have escaped death once again, Melissan. I would ask your methods, but for now I am simply glad Tymora seems to favor you."

She forced away the rush of anger that she'd allowed herself to glory in for a moment and resumed the carefully constructed persona she'd allowed the world to see, giving the monk what appeared to be a nod of gratitude, never seeing the inward sneer, the ridicule she felt for him at how badly he was being played. "Your thoughts are appreciated, my friend. Regardless of my well-being, the important thing is that we are one step closer to ending this madness. You have heard of Yaga-Shura's death, I trust? Of course- I barely escaped with my life from that city..."

"And for that I am grateful. The others had asked about you- we recently... conversed, and I told them of the fire giant's fate." the bald monk spoke, choosing his words carefully. "The wards of Gorion are more powerful than any of us had assumed, I think. It may be time to unleash both Abazigal and Sendai upon them. I had toyed with the idea of letting them strike individually- I am certain they would all take greater losses in this manner, but to be sure that Greywulf and Imoen perish..."

Melissan stiffened- Balthazar had not regarded the wards of Gorion with such respect before- he had assumed they would fall beneath the might of the Five, without worrying over which member would be the one to destroy them. If that became too great a factor in the monk's mind.. he might actually survive. He might actually defeat Greywulf and Imoen. That would be... unexpected. She had based her plans, her tactics upon eliminating the Five with the help of those foolish adventurers, then wiping them out with the taint they'd unwittingly gifted her at the Throne. But Balthazar had a much greater understanding of the Bhaal taint, of the lore that he could, possibly, use to oppose her should it come to that. Time to up the stakes. Greywulf's arrival in Amkethran was to be a surprise to the monk- it would keep the monk guessing and distracted when he would need to be at his most centered. Perhaps it was time to change that.

She smiled again, then shook her head. "Against your forces? I think not, Balthazar. In fact, I was so certain of your superiority, I have sent them your direction now. They should be heading to Amkethran to seek you out. I told them that you had the location of both remaining Bhaalspawn-"

"What?" Balthazar broke from his usual calm, eyes wide as the tattoo on his forehead wrinkled with the anger flowing across his brow. "You know that the taint is easy to sense in another for those trained to do so! They will detect my heritage, know of my blood! I will not see the war come to my people's doorstep-"

"War does not spare anyone- this is a lesson you should have learned long ago." Melissan cut him off, her voice cold. "If they guess your blood, then take the opportunity and end their lives right there- surely you do not fear them? And if you can loose their powers on the others, then so much the better. You already have blood on your hands- isn't that why we made our deal in the first place? Why you joined the Five? To finally be rid of this taint on your soul? It will not be a righteous path to redemption, Balthazar..."

He cursed, then bottled his anger as abruptly as he'd released it. The smoldering rage was still in his eyes, but no longer in the open. He spoke softly, deliberately. "I will direct them to the others, as you say. But do not mock me, or the weight I carry upon my shoulders, Melissan. I do not do this for you, nor out of some notion that I might save my soul. I will free Faerun of Bhaal's influence, and if that means men and women must die... so be it."

"Good to hear." Melissan nodded. "Steel yourself- they will be at Amkethran within a few days, I'm sure. Keep that power of yours under control and they'll never know you're one of them. Speak to me when they've left."

Melissan stepped away from the portal, letting the communication collapse upon itself and shutting the magics with a small crackle of energy. She exhaled, letting her disguise and the warped environment return to its natural, true form. She had, admittedly, been more antagonistic during that last conversation than she should have been- the more she pushed Balthazar, the less he'd cooperate with her. Not that she feared him. Nor any of them. This whole charade, it angered her, frustrated her to no end. Only combined could the Bhaalspawn hope to challenge her, and that was precisely why she'd set them on one another. To guide the most powerful of them though... that took skill. Patience. Even in the face of her impending godhood, she had to remember that.

Amelyssan took a deep breath, calming her fiery temper as best she could. The fruits of her labor would be evident soon enough. She half-heartedly wondered which of the three Greywulf and Imoen would slay first... the dragon, the drow, or the monk? They'd certainly had experience with dragons in the past, as well as the Underdark elves. Monks... perhaps not. Balthazar had the best chance of killing them, she assumed, but thus far, she'd seen no evidence to believe that they wouldn't be capable of wiping one another out.

Still, her work with Balthazar had given her insight into many of his secrets, his strategies. She could predict what the monk would do, and knew just how to manipulate the man, using his martyr complex to fuel the guilt inside his head. He really thought he could wipe the taint from the earth? As though it were a stain to be washed aside with water? She laughed, shaking her head with a smirk as she strode to one of the essence pools surrounding the Throne of Bhaal.

Greywulf and Imoen... Imoen and Greywulf. Wild cards, unanticipated and unpredictable. She could help guide them, try to push them in the direction she wanted ,but they were not so easily manipulated, not like the monk. She had to simply hope for the best, use their power while she could, and then wipe them out with overwhelming force in the end. Could she do it now? The thought drove her mad with heady passion and rage again, but she pushed it away, refusing to let the essence of Murder overwhelm her just yet. Again, patience. Learning her enemy's weaknesses, their flaws, what made them tick... and how best to take advantage of it.

Amelyssan reflected upon that as she raised her spear-staff, the long golden rod lighting up and hissing as green energy was absorbed from the pool below, pushing aside the screams of the unwanted and useless, sifting through and finding the essence she desired. Only two men had ever attained such knowledge of her foes, had really and truly dove into their minds, understood them at the level she needed. One of them was Sarevok Anchev, the first of the Bhaalspawn she had considered a threat to her taking the Throne. Left unchecked, he might've pushed the Realms into a war she would have been unprepared for, unable to twist to her own power. If he had managed to truly absorb the essence of every Bhaal-child he killed, as he had intended... it would have been over before it began. He would have been the new god of Murder, and she would have been left with nothing. However, thanks to Greywulf and Imoen... that possibility was now gone.

She felt a tug, a familiar presence drawn to the seeker tendrils that her staff was spinning into the deep well of souls. She mentally commanded the weapon to bring out the one she sought, and before long, the essence of her prey began to form before her, manifesting in spirit, the flesh long since rotted and burned from the bone. Sarevok would not be there to challenge her for the Throne in the end... but he could've been one to supply her with the information she sought about Gorion's wards. His hatred for them would have been enough to provide all the motivation he needed to bring them to their knees. But by the strangest twist of fate, he was fighting alongside them now, a shell of humanity in a body formed by Imoen's soul gift, but alive nonetheless, and distinctly unavailable to her powers.

The soul she had sent for finally reformed fully, a whine in the air finally forming into a scream as the spirit took shape and voice, dropping to its knees in anguish before ceasing, realizing that it was no longer in eternal torment, no longer in agony as the denizens of the Hells tore into it with the fury that could only be directed at one whose atrocities were unspeakable. Amelyssan smiled as the spirit blinked once, twice, then chuckled humorlessly, rising to its ethereal feet. The other who could tell her about Greywulf and Imoen... Jon Irenicus, killed at the Tree of Life in Suldenesselar. He, on the other hand, was most certainly available to her.

"So... I am summoned once more at your whim." his voice echoed with the sound of that which was distinctly unreal, but it had lost none of the arrogance he'd possessed in life. "And for what purpose this time, priestesss of Bhaal? You want more information about the god-spawn who killed me? I have indulged you for some time now..."

"Is that any way to speak to your savior, Irenicus?" Amelyssan asked, effecting a tone of shock. "I would have thought you grateful to be released from your everlasting torment, for even such a short time."

"And what is a few moments of relief compared to an eternity of anguish?" Irenicus' spectre sneered. "Should I praise your benevolence for this meaningless gift? I speak only to assuage myself that the knowledge I pass along will end their lives all the faster, but even now I find that purpose less... compelling, than it had been. If you still want my aid, my knowledge in helping to kill Greywulf and Imoen, I shall require something more of you."

"Hmmm. I had anticipated you might make such a request, although the speed at which you resort to this bargain is surprising." Amelyssan noted. It was true- from the moment she'd chosen to call upon Irenicus' spirit for information regarding the Bhaalspawn, she knew what the ultimate price would be. She knew just what kind of deal would need to be made in order to make full use of the sorcerer's hatred. "Very well then. I scarcely need to ask what you wish- to speed this process for both our sakes, I shall grant you this boon. Do not waste it."

Amelyssan opened her mouth and screamed- a sonic boom that blew away the wraith before her, although in it's place something completely different began to emerge. Spirit was made into bone and muscle and sinew, internal organs began forming and the skin knit itself closed all around this thing that had once been a spirit, that had once been a man, that had once been an elf of Suldenesselar. A familiar mask and spiked skull cap enveloped the face and head while armored shoulder pauldrons flashed from the void to settle alongside the black robes and chest piece he had worn for so long. Thick leather boots covered his feet, purple lightning blazed from his hands, and as Jon Irenicus stood to his feet, fully flesh and blood once more, he smiled- a twisted, perverted sight.

"I *LIVE*."